Page 15 of Avenging Devil: Part 1

She opens her mouth to respond, but my hand taking hold of her arm pulls her to a halt, and whatever she was going to say is forgotten as her eyes catch sight of what’s caught my attention.

“Wait here,” I tell her, then take off.

A Marine can never turn off his training. As I run to the clearly hurt or distressed woman leaning against a beat-up car, a vehicle I’m surprised to gather, only by the virtue that it must have driven her here, is roadworthy, I’m scanning the environment, checking for danger and wishing like fuck I was armed. As I draw close, I recognise she’s the one who’d captured my attention in the waiting room earlier. She’s propped up against the door as though needing it to hold her up, her head resting against the roof, and her whole body shaking. As I draw close, I can hear her sobbing, and then, to my horror, she sinks to the ground, her arms cradling her belly.

“Hey.” Making my voice as gentle as possible, I crouch at her side, reluctant to touch her. “You alright?”

It’s obvious she’s not, but I don’t know what else to say or ask. If it’s a problem with her car, I can help her out. But as I came here with Mary with a dread of hearing the wrong news, considering she’s just exited the hospital makes me fear the worst, and that her problem is one I’m not equipped to deal with.

She’s sobbing as though she can’t hear me, so I try again. “Darlin’, can you talk to me? Tell me what’s wrong and I’ll see if I can help.”

When she still doesn’t respond, it worries me. Remembering Grumbler tries to prevent Mary getting the least bit upset, I’m getting concerned. She’s pregnant, and such distress surely can’t be good for the baby. Reaching out my hand, I touch her shoulder, wanting her to acknowledge me. Wanting to know if I should summon help from the building behind.

At my touch, she rears back, falls on her ass, and starts scrambling away.

“Hey!” I repeat, holding up my hands and getting back to my feet. I’m a big fucker standing at six foot three, and I’m Black. Even without wearing my cut, to some people, my colour and size are enough to label me as a threat. “I want to help, that’s all.”

“Niran? What’s going on?”Thank fuck, Mary didn’t obey me and wait.I could do with some feminine help. “Oh, honey.” Awkwardly, Mary covers the gap the woman has put between me and her. She manages to get herself down to the ground and holds out her arms, then hesitantly inches closer and pulls the woman to her.Ms Jones—that’s all I know, courtesy of how she was addressed in the clinic—wails again and lets Grumbler’s wife hold her. Mary’s concerned eyes meet mine, but she simply lets her sob, rocking her like she was as much a baby as the infant she’s carrying.

My gaze flicks over the parking lot, and then to the hospital entrance. “Should l get help?” I’m feeling more confident now that Mary’s stepped in and has the look of a woman who’s taking charge.

“Do you need medical help, honey? Is it the baby?”

Her enquiry makes the woman sob harder, but she shakes her head, and now her first words come out, wailed in utter anguish, “No one can help. There’s nothing anyone can do now.”

Mary and I exchange glances, both of us clearly thinking the same thing. Even if we’re adding twos and twos together, we’ve got to be close to the right result.Grumbler’s going to kill me, is my selfish initial thought. His old lady who’s already preparing herself for her own bad news shouldn’t be faced with a real example happening to somebody else. She shouldn’t be getting distressed, even if it’s on the other woman’s behalf. But how can I tear her away? The woman clearly needs help, and there’s no one else around to provide it, as evidenced by the way a happy young couple just walked past, hurrying their steps as though not wanting to get involved.

The woman is being wracked by violent shivers, even though the day isn’t particularly cold, and the coat she’s wearing should be more than adequate. Her face, pale as I noticed before, has whitened further, her eyes, red and raw, stand out in macabre contrast. Whatever news she’s just heard must have been devastating. When I served, I’d seen the result of shock many times before, and she’s showing classic symptoms. Enough to need medical help? I think so.

“I’m going to get someone,” I say quietly to Mary. My job is to get Mary out of here and away from any angst, to get her home and back into that comfortable bubble that Grumbler wants to keep her in.

“No.” Hearing me, the woman struggles to free herself from the comfort she’s receiving. “I can’t… not now. I just need to get away from here.”

Becoming conscious the afternoon is darkening, I look up at the sky, seeing the ominous clouds gathering. Already I can scent rain in the air, and my biker instincts tell me this isn’t going to be a polite gentle shower, but a downpour probably of biblical proportions.

“Mary, you comfortable with driving the SUV?” I need her out of here now. Grumbler would have my head if she caught a chill or got the slightest bit cold. As for the other woman, no good could come from her getting soaked.

“What are you thinking, Niran?”

I nod toward the woman. “That I’ll drive her home.”

The woman startles. “I’m not going home. I’ve got to get to work.”

Jeez. That’s the last place she should be going.

“No,” Mary’s no-nonsense voice addresses her, echoing my thoughts. “You’re in no state to work. You need to look after yourself. Work can wait. They’ll understand.”

I hope Mary’s right to be optimistic. I’ve worked for some assholes myself. But I wait to hear what Ms Jones thinks about it.

She considers Mary’s words for a brief second, then shudders as she says, “You’re right. I can’t face going to the store.” I think she already knew it herself, but someone else’s confirmation has helped. Placing a hand against the ground, she attempts to push herself up. When she’s standing, she sways slightly, and places her hand on the roof of her car to steady herself. She avoids talking to me but directs her comment to Mary. “I’m fine. I can drive.”

I’m about to tell her she’ll be a danger to herself let alone anyone else—hell, she’s weak, hardly able to stand, and that pale skin shows me she’s far from recovered from whatever caused the shock—but Mary gets in first.

“Honey, I don’t think that’s a good idea. How about I drive your car, and Niran can follow us, then after we drop you off, he can take me home?”

At that point, another couple passes us, the woman smiling widely and caressing her large pregnant stomach. Our woman utters a loud sob, closes her eyes, and a few more tears leak out. When she speaks, her word is barely more than a whisper, “Alright.”

This is so not what Grumbler would want me to be doing, letting Mary out of my sight with a stranger.But neither would he want her out in the elements. With a resigned grimace, as the first of probably many raindrops starts to fall, I usher the two women into the car, knowing I’d lose any argument. I make sure Mary’s been given the keys. When I ask if she’s sure she can drive in her state, I’m subjected to a withering glance.

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