Shit.
She sat up and her brown eyes locked with his. “By the time you get to my house, you should’ve had time to make up a good story.”
Chapter Nineteen
Shade’s fingertips skimmed over the closed laptop Chelle had tucked next to his hip on the bed. She told him to use it to watch movies or to work on some reading lessons, if and when he felt up to it.
Right now, he didn’t feel up to shit. His stitched-up head throbbed like a motherfucker, his eyes were sensitive to light and he was still in a fog. Had to be the pain meds. They were probably the only thing making his injuries bearable.
It wasn’t like he wasn’t used to pain. He’d lived a third of his life with a lot of it. However, a baseball bat to the head was a first and the doctor told him the bone bruise was much more serious than it sounded. His knee and surrounding area looked ugly as fuck. All shades of purple and swollen.
Once he was discharged, Easy and Rook had brought him from the hospital directly to Chelle’s house like she ordered.
Both of them wore smartass smirks as she bossed them around on where to put him and the shit Easy had picked up from his room in the bunkhouse. Things he needed. Unlike his cut. Shade didn’t think it was smart to have it there with him, but Chelle waved that concern away. According to her, it was time to let the girls in on who he was. At least with his being a part of the Blood Fury MC. She said they weren’t stupid and they might see him around town wearing it, anyway.
As for him fucking their mother, he figured Chelle wanted to still keep that on the D.L. since she directed Easy and Rook to set him up in a spare bedroom on the opposite end of the house from the master bedroom. Though he hadn’t seen it yet, Chelle said her room took up the whole floor over the garage and it was her favorite space in her house besides her backyard.
While he’d prefer to be in her bed, he’d respect whatever decision she made in regard to her daughters. She was raising them right and he wouldn’t be the one to fuck that up.
By the time he’d been discharged and transported to Chelle’s late Saturday afternoon, both girls were already gone. He had no clue if they were at work or where, not that it mattered. Chelle had already given them the heads up he’d be staying with them for at least a week, most likely two. He could only imagine how that conversation went since they tended to ask as many questions as their mother.
Those apples didn’t fall far from that curvy tree.
He leaned his head back on the pillows and closed his eyes, running what happened last night through his mind again.
He had fucked up, plain and simple. He should’ve been paying the fuck attention on that mountain but, instead, let his brain fill up with shit that shouldn’t have mattered in the middle of dealing with the Shirleys.
That clan was fucking crazy and dangerous, and even desperate, now that their men were getting picked off at a good clip.
Shade hadn’t gotten a chance to give Trip and Judge an update on what happened, but he had a feeling they’d want to hear about it sooner than later. He just had to decide if he would admit it was a young Shirley spawn who took him out. His ass might get ridden long and hard for that one.
Maybe he’d skirt around the facts and just say it was a Shirley male. No one needed to know it was a pint-sized one.
In the meantime, while he was on Trip-ordered recuperation, someone else might need to take over their Clan Plan until Shade was back on his feet and before the mountain no longer provided cover due to the oncoming winter.
He’d need to mention that, too, and see what they thought. If anyone was going to take his place, even temporarily, Shade expected it to be Rook. Rook wouldn’t think twice about taking out one or more of those Shirleys, especially after they kidnapped his niece.
Yeah, Rook would be a good choice and he’d also keep his fucking mouth shut about it since he was trying to keep his ass out of the joint.
The front door slammed shut and he expected to hear Chelle call out to him to let him know she was home from her grocery store run. But the only thing he heard was the sound of heavy boots moving quickly through the first floor. That didn’t sound like Chelle or her daughters.
For fuck’s sake, he hated lying in that bed as vulnerable as a goddamn baby.
His fingers curled around the handle of the knife he had tucked under a knitted throw near his elevated left leg. Chelle had tossed the blanket at him before she left since he was only wearing a T-shirt and a pair of snug boxer briefs. He wouldn’t be able to wear jeans for a while. At least, not until the swelling went down on his leg and he no longer needed the brace.
She suggested he toss the throw over his lap if her girls came into the room until she had a chance to pick him up some loose shorts and sweatpants. He wasn’t sure if she was more worried about them seeing his junk or about him keeping his scars a secret.
Either way, he hadn’t worn shorts since before “Daddy David” left his mark. He didn’t even own a fucking pair. But that didn’t fucking matter, what mattered was the sound of boots stomping up the stairs.
At this point, he wasn’t covering up his lap or legs in case he needed to protect himself from whoever was in the house.
His phone was in reach but calling anyone would do no good. It would take too long for anyone to get to the house, so he was on his own with a fucked-up leg and a beat-to-fuck brain.
Fuck.
“Chelle?” a man called out.
Shade could hear him moving toward her bedroom.
“Maddie?”
At least it was someone Chelle knew, but Shade still didn’t like not knowing who the fuck he was. Chelle hadn’t mentioned a man in her life, especially one who had a fucking key. It would’ve been nice if she would’ve shared that fact instead of leaving him in her house like a goddamn sitting duck.
“Josie!” the deep voice yelled. Shade heard a muttered, “Where the hell is everyone?” The footsteps paused right outside his door. “Answer your damn phone, Chelle,” came the irritated mutter. “I’m at your house. Call me back ASAP.”
His fingers tightened around his hidden knife as a tall, broad-shouldered man with reddish-brown hair appeared in the doorway and froze. His eyebrows shot up as he took in Shade lying on the bed.
“What the hell?” the stranger muttered and shook his head. “I was wondering why Chelle needed Maddie’s crutches from storage. Guess they’re for you since it looks like you got the short end of someone’s stick.”
Yeah, an aluminum stick wielded by a damn inbred snot monkey.
The man wasn’t done yet. Fuck no, he was just getting started. “Not sure who you are. Not sure where you came from. Don’t even care. Just want to know why the hell you’re in my sister’s house.” What apparently was Chelle’s brother scanned Shade from injured head down to bare toes again, then his angry gaze landed on Shade’s cut which was tossed over a backpack on a chair by the bed. The one Easy packed full with Shade’s things.
The brother lingered on the Fury colors a little too long. “Also want to know why the hell you’re in my sister’s bed.”
“Ain’t her bed.” With his brain being both scrambled and foggy, along with his rapid heartbeat, he decided it was best to keep talking to a minimum. Otherwise, he was afraid he’d screw up everything he attempted to say and sound like a fucking idiot.