Page 15 of Protector

I lifted my head up off my arm. “What did they say, Celia? Where were they going? The cash I gave you—that was, what? Four grand?”

Her lower lip quivered, and she dropped her forehead to my chest with a wince. “No. It was more. A lot more.”

With a sharp cry, her body contorted, and I tightened my grip, reminded again that the idea that she’d been safe here had always been just that. An idea.

An illusion.

Something I’d been too stupid to recognize.

More tears leaked from the corners of my eyes and fell onto her robe before disappearing into the fleece. I’d always seen myself as her protector, going up against her parents and Betsy, but hadn’t been here when she’d needed me the most.

“Jamie?” Celia gripped my wrist. “I did something stupid…”

The thrashing of my heart inside my chest was the only sound in the room. I held my breath, waiting for her explanation, but she’d given in to the effects of the drugs again.

I brushed my hand across her forehead, relieved to find her skin cool to the touch. Whatever they’d given her though was still in full effect, leaving me to wonder how much, if any, of our conversation she’d remember later.

Celia’s left eye popped open again, focused on the bedroom door. “Did you know that the paint doesn’t go all the way down to the baseboard on the wall behind our bed?”

I tucked a strand of bloody hair behind her ear with a frown. “I, uh, I didn’t know—”

Angel interrupted with a soft tap on the door. “Hey, how’s she doin’?”

Celia shifted with a groan. “I’m doing better.”

“Yeah? You don’t seem better.” His eyes narrowed before he looked over at me. “Lucy’s here.”

“Lucy?” Celia called out. “She came all this way?”

He nodded. “Just to see you, doll.”

“Hey, Celia,” Lucy said, as she stepped out from behind Angel. Her eyes widened as she approached the bed, darting from one wound to the next in horror. Instead of running away, she shifted a massive bag up onto her shoulder and forced a small smile. “I brought you some things.”

“C’mon, Jamie. Let’s give them a minute,” Angel began, but I cut him off.

“Ain’t leavin’ her.”

His jaw clenched. “You’ve been in here with her for hours now. She needs to rest, and we got things to discuss.”

Celia released her hold on my wrist as she moved away. “I want you to go, Jamie.”

I squeezed her shoulder. “Celia…”

“If you have something you need to do, go do it. I don’t want you here.”

The order was like a knife to my chest, but I knew that I deserved every bit of her rejection.

Lucy’s lips pursed as she took in the exchange. “We’ll get you cleaned up—”

“No. Just give me something to sleep. Please.”

Reluctantly, I rolled out of bed. As I bent to retrieve my boots, I studied the wall. The light blue paint looked the same as it always had; no bare spots to be seen.

It left me questioning how much of what she’d said was truth, and how much was the result of the drugs. Maybe I’d slipped up and mentioned another club over the years, and in her current state, she’d latched onto it.

I left Angel and Lucy with Celia and stepped out onto the back porch. Bear and Comedian stood by the rusted cast-iron smoker, deep in conversation while Slim sat with his hands steepled under his chin in one of the lawn chairs. The three looked up, clearly waiting for news.

I tapped a cigarette from the pack and lit up with shaking hands. After taking several desperate drags, letting the nicotine hit my brain, I finally managed, “Serpents. Hawk was working with the fuckin’ Serpents. Can someone explain to me how the fuck that’s possible?”

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