“Exactly.” I ran my hand through my hair and grumbled, “I just need to know what the fuck happened that night, and as far as I can tell, she’s the only one who really knows what went down.”
“I’m sure you’ll find a way to get her to talking.”
I shrugged. “She can’t tell me what she can’t remember.”
“Well then, you just gotta find a way to make her remember. I got faith in you, brother. You’ll do it.” As Rafe turned to leave, he said, “If there’s anything I can do to help, you know where to find me.”
Once he’d walked away, I continued towards the infirmary, but when I walked inside, I was surprised to find it empty. Knowing she couldn’t have gotten far, I rushed back into the hall and was about to go find Doc when he stepped out of one of the vacant rooms. Without giving him a chance to speak, I asked, “Where’s Remington?”
“I moved her.” He motioned his head behind him. Before I could ask him why, he told me, “I thought she’d be more comfortable.”
“Viper know?”
“Of course.”
“Good.” I looked over to the door. “How’s she doing?”
“Better. She’s eaten a little, and I’ve given her some ice packs for the swelling.” I could see the concern in his eyes when he added, “She’s resting.”
It was clear by his tone that he didn’t think I should disturb her, but I had no choice. Reaching for the doorknob, I assured him, “Then, I’ll try to keep it short.”
Without giving him a chance to argue, I stepped inside and closed the door behind me. Remington was lying on the bed with an ice pack over her left eye, and she was wearing the clothes I’d given Doc for her to borrow. They were way too big for her, but fuck, she looked all kinds of good in them. While the swelling in her eye was a little better from the day before, they were both still black and blue, and several large gashes and bruises marked her face. Remington pulled the comforter up, nervously covering her chest, as she mumbled, “You’re back.”
“I am.” She never took her gaze off of me as I walked into the center of the room. Damn. Something about the way she was watching me made it hard to decide if she was scared of me or into me. She wasn’t the first woman to look at me like that. I was done taking chances on getting my heart ripped out, so depending on the girl, I’d either fuck them good and hard or steer clear. I could tell that Remington wasn’t the fuck ’em-and-leave ’em kind of girl, so it was best she stay as far away from me as possible, and I needed to do the same with her. Unfortunately, that wasn’t possible—at least not yet. I walked over to the desk and brought the chair next to the edge of the bed, then sat down. “We need to talk about the night of the attack.”
“I already told you. I don’t remember anything from what happened that night.”
“Then, why don’t we start with some things you do remember.” I crossed my arms and leaned back in the chair. “We’ll start with the basics.”
“Like?”
“How about, where do you live?”
“In an apartment a few blocks away from work.”
“And a roommate?”
“No, I live alone.”
“What about friends or family?”
“Yes.”
“Gonna need you to give me more than that.”
“I don’t know what you’re wanting from me with all this.”
I didn’t respond. Instead, I just sat there studying her. I’d seen all the information Menace had pulled up on her. I knew she was a smart girl. Hell, I was almost afraid that she was too smart. I didn’t want to make things harder for her than they already were, but it was my job. I’d been placed as the club’s enforcer for a reason. My brothers expected me to get any information we needed; I’d never once let them down and wasn’t going to start now. That didn’t mean I felt any less guilty for pressing her like I was. I could see the anguish in her eyes, the tension in her shoulders as she sat there glaring back at me, but I remained silent, in hopes that’d be enough to get her to talk.
After a brief staring contest, she finally sighed and said, “Fine. My parents are both still alive and living in Franklin where I grew up. We’re pretty close. I talk to them all the time. As far as friends go, I don’t have many. I’ve only lived in Nashville for a few months, but I’ve gotten pretty close to a girl at work. Her name is Madeline.”
“What about a boyfriend?”
“No.”
“So, you’re not involved with anyone?”
“What does my relationship status have to do with anything?” she sassed.
Whether she had a boyfriend or not was irrelevant, but for reasons I couldn’t explain, I was compelled to press her for a definite answer. “Just answer the question, Remington.”
“I already said no.” She cocked her eyebrow. “I don’t have a boyfriend. Just to be clear, I’m not involved with anyone whatsoever, and I haven’t been for a long time. Does that answer your question?”
“Yes. Yes, it does.” Without wasting any time, I asked, “Where do you work?”
“Davis and Cole. It’s a marketing firm downtown.”
“How long have you worked there?”
Her eyes narrowed as she asked, “Do you need an exact length of time, or is it okay to say a few months?”
She was aggravated with me, and rightly so. I was being a dick, and I knew it. Even though I could see the fatigue in her eyes, the dried blood on her forehead and arms, I just couldn’t calm the interrogator in me. Hell, it was engrained in me and couldn’t simply be turned off—even when I wanted to. I wished I was like Doc, calm and cool, making her feel at ease, but I’d be no help to her or my brothers if I didn’t get the intel I needed. I knew I hadn’t crossed any lines, and she was still capable of moving forward, so I ignored her hostile tone and said, “A few months will do.”
“Anything else?”
“What do you remember about the day of the attack?”
“Nothing. It’s all still a damn blur.”
“I know this isn’t easy, but I can’t help you unless I know what happened.”
“I’m trying.”
Her eyes drifted over to me, and the vulnerable look got me right in the gut. I had to remember that this was all part of the game, although I didn’t know what role she played in it. She was still just a pawn, a play waiting to be made and nothing more—or so I thought.
Remington
At first, I thought that Shotgun was only trying to help figure out who’d hurt me, but with each question he asked, I found myself wondering if there was something else going on. For a moment, I actually got the feeling that he was kind of interested in me, especially when he kept asking if I was involved with someone. I knew it was crazy to have such thoughts. He was this sexy, hot biker guy who could get any woman he wanted, and I was a hot mess. I could only imagine how horrible I must’ve looked. I glanced down at my hand and cringed at the sight of the dried blood on my wrist and forearm. I lifted my hands up to my face, gently brushing them over all the bumps and scratches, and every inch felt tight and tender. Curious to see how bad it really was, I looked over to Shotgun and asked, “Can I have a mirror?”