Death of Cupids (The Blood of Cupids MC) (10 page)

Ryan

“Grace, I need to talk to you about something.”

We were still wrapped up in each other, both satisfied from
our attempt to find heat in the otherwise freezing basement of the
Cupids
clubhouse. 
She made a slight noise, letting me know she was listening although she was
fading.  It was late, and I was sure she was exhausted, but I knew what
the morning would bring.  I didn’t want to sleep when I knew I might only
have a few more hours left with the love of my life.

“I know you’re tired, but you’re going to have to hear me
out.  Grace, I need to keep you safe; I need to keep our baby safe. 
But in order to do that, I’m going to need to go away for awhile.”

The words sounded so silly.  I felt like someone in one
of those old movies who was trying to explain to a child that a mission they were
about to embark on may not bring them home alive.  I guess that was
exactly what I was saying though.  Sean had promised that if I helped him
build his own army, he would leave Grace alone.  I believed that much, I
really did.  I wasn’t living outside of reality though.  Once Sean
had no use for me, I was sure as dead.  Then he’d surely turn his sights
back on Grace.

I then went on to explain the terms of Sean’s offer. 
There was no use hiding anything from her; she deserved the truth.  She
deserved to know why she would be raising our child alone.

“He’s right though.  There is no other option.  I
don’t want to be running from him for the rest of our lives.  I want you
to have the life you dreamed you could.  I just can’t be in it.”

It stung to say the last line out loud.  I hated
thinking that one day she would meet someone who would take my place.  One
day I would be a distant memory, her first love, the father of her child, the
one who gave his life in order to save the lives of his family.  As
legacies go, it wasn’t the worst way to be remembered.  But I knew deep in
my heart that I would never settle into a life without her.  She would
consume my every thought.  My life would be forever changed because of Grace.

I tightened my arms around her, waiting for her to fight
with me, disprove my logic, but she was silent.  She had nothing to say;
she knew I was right.

“Please Grace, say something.  It’s our last night
together.  Talk to me.”

Still nothing.  Had she fallen asleep?  Had she
not heard anything I had just confessed?

“Grace?”  I lowered my head to her chest, trying to
find any way to be closer to her.  Her heartbeat soothed my anxiety, and I
closed my eyes.  I reminded myself that unless I could find another way
around Sean’s demands, this was how I would spend my last few moments with
Grace.

I matched my breathing to hers, finding relaxation in the
gentle rise and fall of her chest.  But the relaxation didn’t last
long.  Her breathing quickened.  It was hard to keep up to her
rhythm.  Her body chilled beneath my grasping hands.  Her muscles
tightened.  Her heartbeat slowed, it slowed some more, and then it slowed
again.

“Grace?”

I didn’t know why I expected an answer then, but calling her
name was all I could do to not lose my control. 

“Grace.”  I began to shake her.  Still
nothing.  “No.”  I growled under my breath.  “Please, God, no.”

Her pulse was waning.  The combination of the bitter
cold and the residual drugs left in her system must have put an extra strain on
her body.

I jumped up from the couch, pulled up my boxers, and began
to scream as loud as I could.

“Is someone up there?  Hello?  Please, we need
help!”

I ran to the door and began to bang my fists against the
metal.  “So help me God, Sean, if you are out there I will ring your
throat if she dies.”

My pounding continued.  I punched, I kicked, and I
screamed.  I had truly assumed he left us alone.  I thought the
racket I was causing was in vain.  But just as my knuckles started
bleeding from the repeated beating, I heard the first latch slide open.

He was there, on the other side of the door.  He would
have to let us out.

I prepared myself for the door to swing open.  My now
bloody fists were guarding my face, and I was perfectly positioned for a clean
roundhouse kick.  If Sean tried anything, I would take him down.

“Ryan, step away from the door.”

It was a familiar voice, but not Sean’s.  No, it was
the voice of someone else who had betrayed me.

“Danny?”
“Just step back, or I’m not going to open the door.”

“I’m back.  I’m back.”  I quickly called. 
Anger was building inside of me.  I wanted to knock him out as soon as he
stepped foot inside our jail cell, but I knew that would not ensure Grace’s
safety.  The only thing I could focus on was Grace.  She was all that
mattered.

Danny pushed the door open, holding a Glock at eye
level.  “Don’t move.”

“I’m not.”  My hands instinctually shot up, offering up
my own surrender.

“I wasn’t supposed to open the door under any
circumstances.”

“I know that, but Grace… she’s… she’s barely
breathing.”  I pleaded with him.

“And what do you expect me to do about it?”

“Can we just get her to the hospital?”

“Absolutely not.  He’ll kill me if I let you guys out.”

I put my hands down and took a step in his direction. 
He steadied his hand on his pistol, but didn’t move it from the aim at my head.

I took a deep breath, trying to remain calm.  “I’m sure
Sean told you of his little plan to start his own club.”

“Of course.”  He snapped, making sure I knew of his
place among Sean’s minions.

“And I’m sure he mentioned that he has a job for me.”

“He has.”  He was a little guarded about that
statement, but it was still obvious he knew, even if he was jealous.

“Well, if Grace dies, then the deal is off.  How do you
think Sean will feel if you let that happen?”

Danny looked away, weighing his options.  I tried not
to seem too eager, but Grace’s life was more at risk every second she was in
this cold.  “Okay, listen, Sean wanted me to make a decision.  I’ll
make it.  I’ll leave Grace.  Just let me take her to the hospital
first.”

“I’ll take her to the hospital.  You’ll wait here for
Sean.”

“I need to know she’s okay, Danny, please.”

“Which I understand, but I need to make sure you don’t try
anything funny.  If I let you get the slip on me, that’ll be the end.”

I knew what he was saying.  He had already disappointed
Sean once by allowing Grace to fool him into thinking she was about to throw
up.  She then stabbed him in the leg before cracking a few of his
ribs.  There was little doubt that Sean would forgive him a second time
for something so extreme.  If we escaped, he’d be dead.

“Fine.  You can take her.  But Danny,” I inched
forward, placing my palm on his shoulder, “if you ever cared about our
friendship, you’ll make sure she gets there in one piece.”

He nodded.  It was real, honest.  This time, and
I’m not sure why, I trusted him.

I ran over to Grace, bundling her up in the clothes I had
worn, as hers were nowhere to be seen.  I then lifted her to my chest and
whispered into her ear.

“Baby, if you can hear me, know that I love you.  Know
that everything I am doing is for you.  Know that there will never be a
minute that goes by when I will not be thinking of you.  And above all,
know this: I would not take back any of it.  For the mere two days that
you were my wife, it was all worth it.”

With that, I slid my ring off my finger, tried to wipe off
some of the blood from my knuckles, read the inscription one final time, and
placed it into the pocket of my jeans: the jeans that Grace was now
wearing.  I handed her over to Danny’s waiting arms and took a step
back. 

They disappeared through the door seconds before the latches
began to lock me in, yet again.

Grace was gone.  I was alone.  All that was left
were memories, and the quote by which I would forever live.

Today, tomorrow, and past the light.

Grace

“Hello?  Is anyone there?”

I felt groggy, incoherent, and very confused.  A
hospital?  What was I doing there?  How had I gotten there?

I remembered meeting Anne Marie’s children.  I
remembered them being safe, untouched by Sean Cassidy.  Then I remembered
Ryan and I in a basement.  A basement?  Were we actually in a
basement?  I remembered being cold and Ryan upset.  He was so
upset.  Had I done something wrong?  And where was he now?

I looked around.  There was an IV in my arm, which
seemed to be attached to a saline drip.  I could see my heart rate and
blood pressure on the digital screen.  Sixty-two beats per minute: that
seemed a little low for me.  Eighty-eight over fifty-seven: I had never
seen those numbers on my blood pressure readings.  What had caused such
low numbers?

I wiggled my fingers.  They were a bit tingly, but I
was still able to find my call button.  I heard a beep in the hallway,
which was quickly followed by a small knock on my door.  A man in teal
scrubs peeked his head in before offering me a smile.

“Hey sleepyhead, how’re you doing?”

“I don’t know how I got here.”

“Then it looks like we have something in common.” He flashed
me a smile.

“What do you mean?”

He stepped in further, closing the door behind him.  He
was a good looking, well put-together guy.  His slicked back hair was a
very light brown, as if he had been blonde as a child.  His eyes were
dark, almost black, but still very warm.  He was thin, but muscular, and
his scrubs hung loosely around his hips.

He pulled a stool over and took a seat next to me.  “I
found you passed out in the emergency waiting room last night.  No one
signed you in.  We don’t even know your name.”

“It’s Grace… Grace Bren--… um, Grace Cassidy, I mean.”

“Well Grace Cassidy, it’s nice to meet you.  I’m Mark.”

I looked at his nametag: Mark Appleman, R.N.  So a
nurse found me passed out and apparently unresponsive in their waiting room
last night.  Did I find my way to the ER?  And if I did, why would I
do that?  I didn’t seem to have broken anything, or to have fallen.

“Did you contact my husband?”  I squinted at him. 
My head was pounding.

“Grace, I didn’t know your name up until thirty seconds
ago.  I would have to be pretty awesome to have figured out how to contact
your husband.”

I chuckled at his little tease.  “Can I use this
phone?”  I gestured to the phone on the side table.

“Absolutely.”  He pushed the old, cord phone toward my
reaching hand.

I sat up and slowly pushed down the buttons in the only ten-digit
sequence I had memorized other than my own.  I pressed the phone up
against my ear and waited for the ringtone… but there wasn’t a ring tone. 
The sound I heard was the three beeps that warn you when a phone has been
disconnected.  I quickly hung up.  Maybe I pushed a wrong number.

I tried again, and then again, and then one more time, but
nothing changed.  Ryan’s phone had been disconnected.  I had no way
to get a hold of him.

“Everything okay?”

“Um, no, it seems as though his number isn’t working.” 
My voice was trembling.

“You know, I’m sure it has something to do with the phone
lines.  I’ll have someone check on it and we’ll try again soon.”

“Okay.  Okay, thanks.”  My mind was
wandering.  What wasn’t I remembering?  What had happened in the time
I was missing?  Where was my husband?

“Now Grace, this is the hard part.”

His demeanor completely changed.  No more was he
cheerful and comforting; now he looked worried, as though he had to deliver bad
news.

“What?  What’s going on?”  I stuttered.

“Well, we ran a series of tests on you… are you aware that
you’re pregnant?”

“Yes… yes, oh my God, is my baby okay?  Did something
happen?”

“No, no, the baby is fine.  I just wanted to make sure
you were aware, as you’re only about ten weeks along.”

“Oh thank goodness.  Okay.”

“But we did find Rohypnol in your system, more commonly
known as the Date Rape Drug.”

“What?”  How?  When? 

“I’m guessing your memory is a bit spotty?”
“Yes, um, yes it is.”  I moved my hands to my face.  I was becoming
clammy, nauseous.

“And,” he lightly grabbed my arm, lifting it into view, “you
have what appears to be rope burns on your ankles and wrists.  Do you have
any idea how that might have happened?”

I looked down at my wrists.  Sure enough, they were
scratched, red, and beginning to bruise.  How was I supposed to explain to
a stranger what I had been going through?  How could I make him understand
that this happening was no surprise to me?

“Grace?  Do you know what happened?”

I shook my head.  I didn’t want to know.

“I’m going to suggest we get you a rape kit, just in case
you want to press charges at some point.”

“No.”  I barked. 

I remembered this conversation with Ryan.  He wanted to
know if Sean had raped me, or if he was only attempting to rile Ryan up by insinuation. 
I didn’t want to know.  I was happy believing that my husband was the only
man who I had ever been with physically.  I needed no other
information.  Plus, if they did the kit, they would be sure to find Ryan’s
DNA.  I didn’t want anyone thinking that my husband had anything to do
with my being drugged.

“Okay, that’s your own choice, but know that this is
something we’d have to do quickly, as there’s only a short window of time these
tests can be done.”

“I know, but my answer is still the same.”

“Grace,” Mark took my hand in his and leaned in closer to
me, “I think you’re making a mistake here.”

I wanted to tell him to mind his own fucking business, but
instead I turned away, focusing my attention out of the window.  I would
not cry about this.  I would be strong.  I would figure this out on
my own.

“I’m going to give you time to rest.”  Mark broke the
awkward silence.  “You’re numbers are still pretty low.  I’d like to
see them come up a bit before we send you home.”

Home.  Where would I go?  Back to my Old City
apartment?  Or maybe to Ryan’s Pop’s place?  Where would Ryan
be? 

I thanked Mark and watched as he left my room.  I was
about to close my eyes when I saw Ryan’s clothes sitting on the chair next to
my bed.  Had he been here?  Did I bring the clothes myself?  Or
was I wearing them?  I reached over, careful not to jerk out my IV, and
pulled the chair closer to me.  I grabbed the sweater and jeans, bringing
them to my face.  They still smelled of him.  Well, they smelled like
a mixture of him and that musty basement.  I fished through the pockets,
hoping to find some sort of note from Ryan or some sort of clue, telling me
what had happened.  Instead, I found his ring.  I found his wedding
ring, covered in blood.  His blood?

Oh God.  Was my husband dead?