Page 103 of Hell Hath No Fury
Caim shifts me in his arms. "You okay?" he asks, but I've got my eyes screwed tightly shut against the recollections. "Layla?" He shakes me.
“Memories,” I gulp out before the pain overwhelms me, and I slip into oblivion.
CHAPTER THREE
Caim
I rub my hand over my face as weariness settles in. Layla is still unconsciousness when we start back for the compound. Heat and the others brought a couple of vehicles with them, and I place her in the back of the truck that’s the more comfortable of the two. Snake is riding in the other vehicle with Prez, Heat, and a couple of the prospects. Iron, the vice president, offered to join me on the journey back and drive. I’m grateful to him because I don’t want to leave Layla's side.
When we get back, Ebony, Prez’s eighteen-year-old daughter, sets about organizing a couple of the more genteel club girls to bathe Layla and bandage some of her wounds. She still doesn’t wake, so the Doc is called. He says it’s just shock keeping her unconscious, and it’s better if we let her sleep.
Everyone files out of the room, and I’m left standing alone by Layla’s bedside. Since first finding her, I have felt an ever-present urge to punch someone. I’ve kept the urge buried deep, but when Iron starts to order me to leave her, it manifests itself in my fist narrowly missing his face. Thankfully, it did because punching out my VP would have led to a punishment I don’t want to have to deal with today, not when I want to be here when the girl lying in front of me wakes up—I need to know she’s okay. I pull up a chair, and position myself next to her bedside and make myself comfortable.
Damn, I need a drink!A few hours have passed since I started this vigil, and I’ve had nothing to eat or drink. Quietlypushing back my chair, I get to my feet and place my hand on Layla’s.
"I'll be back in a minute. Just going to get a beer. I'll bring one back for you if you like." I snort a laugh because I must sound stupid talking to someone who’s away with the fairies in a deep sleep.
I open the door to the bedroom, hoping it doesn’t creak, and breathe a sigh of relief when I get out of the room without making a racket. With size twelve feet, I’m not exactly the most graceful of people.
“Caim.” Prez appears out of nowhere with a beer in his hand. “Thought you’d want this.”
“You a mind reader all of a sudden, Prez?”
“Nah.” He laughs. “I just know my boys well.”
“Thanks.” I neck most of the bottle in one long chug. “Damn, I needed that.”
“She awake?” Prez nods toward the door.
“No. Doc says it could be a few days. She’s been through a lot.”
“Yeah.” The alpha of our group of bikers runs his fingers through his long beard. “Ebony was upset at the state of her. Said she’s pretty bruised and scarred.”
"They had to cut her hair to shoulder length because it was straggly and matted. I don't think it's been brushed in ten years, let alone washed. She was covered in stuff no one should have on them." I drink the rest of the beer, hoping it’ll wash away the sight of Layla’s thin body covered with grime and blood.
“I can’t even begin to imagine what she’s been through.” Prez takes my empty beer and whistles toward Penny, a club girl, who’s hovering nearby. “Take this and get Caim another one."
She scurries off with the beer bottle in hand and a massive smile on her face because she's being helpful in a time of crisis, which she hopes will be noticed by Prez.
"Where's Snake? Is he in the dungeon?" My mood darkens, my tone terse with a need to inflict agonizing pain on the man responsible for this.
I start to head downstairs, but Prez places his arm out in front of me.
“No.”
“What? Where is he, then?” I ask in confusion.
"He's in the dungeon, but you aren't going down there at the moment."
“What the fuck?”
An eyebrow is raised at me, warning me to rein it in. “Caim, you nearly knocked Iron out earlier. You need to start thinking straight. You aren’t going in the dungeon for the same reason I'm not going in there. We’re both too worked up over the condition we found the girl in. The others didn't see it. Heat purposely stayed out of the room and avoided looking at the girl because he knows we need to get vital information out of Snake first. If we go in with our heads full of the visions of her suffering, he'll be dead before we even get to the end of the first question.”
“I want a piece of him,” I hiss and slam my fist into the wall.
"You'll get it. It might not be the last say, but you will get your turn at him."
"You going to be the one to send the message? Take his life?" I ask, and Prez shuts his eyes. He looks older than his thirty-six years today. A father at seventeen, club president at twenty-five, and a widower at thirty. He's seen a lot, but there’s something about the woman in the bedroom behind me that scares him.
