Page 25 of Savage Heart

The sounds of the door slamming open made her peel her eyes open.

“Shit, Liz,” a massive, familiar blob cursed, coming closer to the bed. “Calm down, you’re safe.”

“I’m not worried about me—”

“Erika is safe,” Trouble drawled softly. His large, warm hand on her shoulder pressed her back into the bed, and she pinched her eyes shut against the pain and glaring overhead lights. “She’s with Skathi and Fae at Fae and Hawk’s house. There’s no place safer than with Skathi...and Fae is excited about watchingBravewith Erika. Something about the movie score, or somethin’.”

Trouble sounded confused, but it made perfect sense to Liz, who knew that Fae, who was actually world-wide folk phenomena, Aoibheal, loved anything to do with Celtic music. The woman spoke and sang in Gaelic, which was amazing on its own, but add in the fact that she also played all her own instruments, and she became a fucking powerhouse.

Humming, Liz gingerly laid her head back against the flat hospital pillow. If Erika was with Skathi, she was definitely safe. Safer than safe. And at least Erika wasn’t at the clubhouse where she could see or hear many mentally scarring things.

Her heart thudding, Liz fought the burgeoning tears—she’d been beaten. Men had come into her home, terrified her child, told her that her partner was criminal scum, and then beat her as a motherfucking “message.”

“Is she okay?” she asked, worried that her little girl was shaken by what happened.

She opened her eyes at his deep, timorous chuckle.

Trouble crossed his arms and smirked at her—the fucker.

“She’s a brave little girl. She called Odin, and we came. We got there not long after. She was scared, but as soon as Odin mentioned a sleepover, she seemed fine.”

Liz smiled despite the pain in her face from that asshole goon’s fists. She probably looked like a human plum—all purple and swollen.

“She’s asked ‘bout you, misses you. Worried ‘bout hermama….”

At that word, Liz knewheknew.

Shit.

Liz tried to raise her right arm again, and cursed. She glared down at the appendage and sighed at the cast.

“They crushed your ulna and wrist. The orthopedic surgeon removed the shards of bone and inserted a steel rod to assist in healing. You’ll always set off metal detectors, but you should make a full recovery,” Trouble reported, his voice flat. “You also have a concussion from the lump on your head, a few bruised ribs, a bruised kidney, and a lot of other bruises to your body and face.”

Damn, those goons had no mercy. They sent such an effective “message”, she’d be pissing blood for a week.

“How long have I been here?” she asked, her worry for Erika rising. Her daughter had never been without her for longer than twelve hours.

“Two days. The only reason they could get you into surgery on your arm so quickly was because the orthopedist knew you and pulled a few strings.”

She huffed, her face throbbing when she tried to smile. “Dr. Faison. I did my orthopedics rotation with him. He’s a great guy. His husband’s a bit of a diva, though.” She snickered, then hissed at the pain pulsing through her ribs.

As if his mind were somewhere else and he hadn’t heard her speaking, he asked, “Need more pain meds?” He looked both tense and distracted, leaning his hip against the side of the bed.

“No,” she sighed. “I want to see my daughter. I know you said she’s safe with Skathi, but Erika has never been apart from me this long. She’s going to be worried, and I can’t imagine that finding me on the floor and having to call a perfect stranger didn’t scare the shit out of her.”

Trouble sighed, his expression hardening. “I’ll text Odin to bring her by. He wants to talk to you, find out what the fuck happened.”

She gave a curt nod, then regretted it. Fuck, she couldn’t move a damn muscle without her body screaming about it.

“Are we going to talk about it?” he asked, his voice taut.

She arched an eyebrow and pursed her lips. “About what? When Odin gets here, I’ll tell you about what happened at the house. Those assholes didn’t scare me into silence. I’ll tell you everything they told me, and then you can go do whatever your club does to women beating goons.” Like hell would she become the battered woman statistic and keep the information about her attackers to herself. Was it dangerous to blab about the fucking Russian Bratva? Hell yes, it was! Was it evenmoredangerous to act like nothing happened? Yes. And so, she was going to suck up her terror, wipe away the tears of shame and humiliation, and get down on her motherfucking knees and beg Odin and Trouble to help her, if necessary. She would do anything for her daughter, even humble herself in front of the man who’d flattened her ten years ago.

Trouble clenched his jaw, his green eyes flashing. “Oh, we will deal with them. No worries ‘bout that, darlin’.” He pushed off the bed and dropped his arms from his chest. Slowly, tension roiling through his muscles, he leaned over her until his face was inches from hers. She could smell the acridness of the hospital coffee on his breath. “But that’s not what I was talkin’ ‘bout, and you know it.”

She swallowed, suddenly overcome by the situation. Yeah, she knew that staying in Vegas and raising her daughter came with the risk of Trouble discovering that he fathered a kid, but she never thought this was how he’d find out. Hell, she’d literally lived in the same town as him and hadn’t run into him a single time in ten years, not since Odin tracked her down and offeredher the club doctor job. She’d have lived happily ever after, never seeing Erik Skaarsen again, and she had been, until Odin waved money in her face. She knew then that the countdown to Erika’s reveal had begun, she’d just hoped—ridiculous, really—to hold on to the secret for another nine years, when Erika would take off for college.

But now, he knew. And she was sure he wanted answers. She internally rolled her eyes. She’d give him answers, and he wouldn’t like them.

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