Page 8 of Protector

It was like the start of a bad joke.

I began giggling, and Comedian eyed me warily. “I, uh, I got the shit.”

Something tore loose in my chest, and my laughter turned to tears again. I knew how crazy I must’ve looked when Comedian kept his eyes trained toward the ceiling; seemingly doing everything in his power to avoid looking at me.

Angel shifted me in his arms and reached for the kit while Comedian hung back with the towels, looking like he wanted to be anywhere but where he was.

“Let’s get you in the bathtub—” Angel began.

“No.” I just wanted to be left alone to die in peace.

My girls were safe. Angel would tell Jamie that the clubs knew he was alive so he could prepare. The rest was out of my hands.

“Okay,” he nodded. “Comedian, look in the closet and see if you can find a robe or something for her to put on.”

“No,” I moaned. “Leave me alone.”

Angel shifted me over before standing up. The two bikers had a silent conversation with their eyes before Comedian disappeared again.

I lay back and let my neck rest against the side of the tub, the coolness of the cast-iron welcome against my sweltering skin. My body relaxed, and unconsciousness pulled me away again. I’d had fever dreams as a kid, but they were nothing like this.

It was some cross between a nightmare and a hallucination; vivid and terrifying. It was only when I fought for consciousness that I realized it wasn’t real.

“You’re safe, Celia,” Angel said softly when I jerked awake with a muffled cry. “Can you give me a name?”

“I told you; I did this to myself.”

Comedian hovered nearby with a bottle of water but waited to approach me until Angel nodded to him. “I got you some water.”

“Comedian,” I croaked. “You can’t tell Jamie. Neither of you. He can’t know that this happened.”

He knelt beside me and held the water bottle to my lips. I obediently took a small sip before begging, “But, Jamie—”

“Drink, Celia,” Comedian commanded. “You need the fluids.”

I drank half of it before pulling away to try again. “Comedian, you can’t let him know—”

“It’s, uh, it’s Michael. Like the archangel. Do you remember what he does?” His voice was soft and steady as if he was speaking to a small child. “He’s a protector and a warrior. Me and Grey? We’re gonna handle this shit, so don’t you be scared.”

A tear fell, and then another. I couldn’t stop them if I tried. My body twisted and tightened as the war raged within. Angel passed the trashcan over to Michael, but through sheer will, I managed to keep the water down.

“I’m not scared,” I whispered. “It’s because of Mary.”

Angel froze at the sink with a washcloth in his hands before slowly turning to face me.

“What happened to his mother nearly killed him, Angel. You and I both know that.” A shudder passed through my body, and my teeth began to chatter. “If he knew about this—”

I let my words trail off, but both men knew what I was asking of them. If Jamie knew what we’d lost because of my actions, it would destroy him.

“Fuckin’ Christ,” Michael whispered. “He’s already on the road; he’s gonna see this.”

“We’ll clean it up and say they beat me, but nothing more.”

Angel shook his head. “Celia…”

“I’ll give you the names, but only if you agree. Swear he’ll never know what happened.”

Michael pushed the water bottle to my lips again. “Drink the rest of this, and I’ll do it. Angel?”

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