Page 137 of Tempting Fate

27

LILY

The drive to Slash’s house is made in silence. Bebe seems caught up in her own thoughts, and I’m not exactly in a rush to delve into my injuries or to discuss what led to them. So, instead of making awkward conversation about the weather with the woman I’ve only met two or three times, usually on her way in or out of Fret’s hospital room, I settle back in the comfortable seat of her very sexy sports SUV and let my eyelids droop closed.

For a little while, my mind avoids thinking about Alex.

Of course, the second the motion of the car makes me nod off, the memory of his violation decides to play in my head like a bad C-grade movie.

I jolt upright with a whimper.

“Hey.” Bebe rests her hand on my forearm. “We’re nearly there. I’ll get you something to help with the pain as soon as I can.”

“Thank you.”

“It’s not a problem.”

“No,” I tell her. “For all of this. Dressed like you are, it’s obvious Slash pulled you away from something important. I really appreciate you giving up your time to help me.”

Bebe dismisses me with a flick of her hand. “It was nothing… just dinner with my family and my… boss.”

I’m not sure I buy her excuse, considering she’s wearing a Prada dress and Jimmy Choo heels, but I let it pass without comment. Either her family is loaded and expects her to wear ten-thousand-dollar outfits to dinner, or Bebe is closer to her boss than she’s letting on.

Either way, it’s none of my business.

Slash isn’t owed my loyalty or Bebe’s… not after the pictures I saw tonight.

Before my anger can get the better of me and I say something I shouldn’t, a wave of pain ripples through my stomach. Until now, it’s been alternating between a cramping kind of nausea and an excruciating ache. Worse than a period, yet not as bad as I felt immediately post-surgery four years ago. With my face throbbing and the rest of my battered body competing for my attention, my inability to ignore the ache in my lower belly has me worried that he’s caused internal damage that’ll see me hospitalised.

The spectre of arrest hangs over me until Zeke and Slash can organise Cub and Hunter to work their magic on the safe house. I grind my teeth when another surge of agony burns through me. It strips my breath from my lungs and leaves me shaking. Gritting my teeth to the point where I’m scared that they’re going to snap; I do my best not to cry out. I need to keep myself together until any evidence that links me to Alex’s death is gone.

“Then I can break,” I mutter under my breath.

After flicking on her indicator to pull onto Slash’s street, Bebe turns to me to ask, “Did you say something?”

“No.” My sharp answer has her peering at me harder. Keeping one arm wrapped around my waist, I use the other to point to the upcoming driveway. “You’re about to miss Slash’s gates.”

When she stops her SUV in front of the garage, Bebe lets out a low whistle at the large, two-storey, monstrosity Slash calls home. “I guess being a dirty outlaw biker pays well.”

“That’s a really fucked-up thing to?—”

The pain morphs from an achy burn to stabbing. I double over and scream. I don’t hear the two Harleys as they pull up behind us. I’m barely conscious of Zeke ripping my door open and lifting me out of the car as I battle through the agony. With one hand clasped over my mouth and the other pressed to my lower belly where the searing throbbing seems to be centred, I try my hardest not to throw up all over Zeke. We make it into the house, all the way through the kitchen and into the guest bedroom on the ground floor before the urge gets too much to contain. I lean away from Zeke and retch. Nothing comes out. He freezes, mutters a curse, then changes direction. The tiles are cold at my back when he carries me inside the shower cubicle and lowers me to my feet.

When I try to push him away, he growls, “Just let it out. Don’t give a fuck if you throw up all over me. I’m not goin’ anywhere.”

For the next few minutes, I gag and retch until I finally vomit. True to his word, Zeke stays with me through it all. He holds me upright, keeps my hair from getting in the way until I finally stop throwing up. I swipe the back of my hand across my mouth and attempt to stand straight.

The pain starts again.

My knees buckle.

Zeke catches me.

“Put her on the bed,” Bebe commands. She follows us out of the bathroom and climbs onto the California king-sized mattress next to me after Zeke lays me down. I curl into a ball on my side, hands clutched to my stomach. “Get out of the room. I need to examine her.”

A string of curse words that’s followed by the sound of a scuffle echoes off the walls as Slash manhandles Zeke out of the guest room. The door slams shut, leaving me alone with Bebe and the keening sound that I can’t stop making. My stomach feels like it’s being set on fire at the same time as a million little demons have decided to simultaneously stab me repeatedly with pitchforks.

“This’ll help with the nausea.” Bebe pushes the sleeve of Zeke’s shirt up and jabs me in the bicep with a needle. “Now, I’m going to give you something for the pain. It’ll take a minute to work… once you’re comfortable, I need to see what’s causing you so much discomfort.”

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