The Cut by Carol Lynne: Kings of Bedlam MC Series, Book One (6 page)

“It’s me, bug,” he said. “I need to get you to a doctor.”

She went wild, shaking her head and kicking at him. “No cops.”

Fuck.
He understood her concern, but the only other physician he knew was Doc, an old grizzled member of the club who’d gone crazy while trying to keep US soldiers alive in Vietnam. “Okay, no cops.”

“Momma,” she whispered. “I heard a noise. I think she’s hurt.”

“I’ll check on Ellie in a minute, but you need me now.” He slowly took the knife away from her and laid it out of her reach. He held out his arms, wondering if she’d welcome his comfort and protection.
Please, God, let her accept my help.

Her gaze went to the knife. “He’ll be back,” she mumbled without emotion. “He’s going to kill me.”

“No,” he replied. “I will never let him touch you, again. I swear to you, he won’t get close enough.” He looked at the broken door, wondering if it was Gordon’s blood on the knife, and if so, how badly the sheriff was injured. Gordon’s death meant absolutely nothing to him, but he didn’t want the fuckhead’s demise weighing on her heart for the rest of her life. “I’ll take care of him, don’t you worry.”

Santana blinked and turned to stare at him, once again. Her eyes filled with tears. “Why would you do that for me?”

The question threatened what little control he had over his emotions. “Because I should’ve never let Ellie drive me away in the first place. It’s my fault this happened, and I’ll make it right.”

Fat tears began to trickle down her bruised face as she looked up at him with confusion. “What did Momma do?”

Tired of the distance between them, he scooted closer and wrapped his arms around her. Her body went rigid, but he didn’t—couldn’t—let her go. “We’ll talk about Ellie, later.” He kissed the side of her head. “I can call Doc Bailey if you want, but you will see a doctor one way or another.”

She clutched the front of his T-shirt. “I said, no cops.”

“No, I promise. That’s why I’ll get Doc Bailey to look you over. He doesn’t like cops any more than you do.” Truth was, Doc didn’t really like anyone except his friend Jack Daniels. Stake prayed the crazy old fuck was sober enough to help her. If not, he’d do what he could to get her cleaned up while the other brothers poured coffee down Doc’s throat.

He looked around for something to wrap around her. There was no way in hell he’d carry her into the club naked. When he spotted nothing but her torn clothes, he brushed her tangled hair away from her ear and whispered, “I’m going to check on Ellie now, but I’ll be right back.”

She nodded but didn’t release the hold she had on his shirt. As much as it killed him to do it, he pulled away from her. “Stay here, okay?”

“Not safe,” she said, her gaze going back to the knife.

He didn’t want to give her the knife, but he understood its importance to her. The decision was made when he saw the sheath hanging halfway out of her purse.

“Hang on.” He retrieved the knife to its leather sheath before handing it to her. “Be careful with this. Okay?”

She clutched the knife to her chest and nodded.

Satisfied that she would be okay for a few minutes, he left the living room. Despite what he’d said to Santana, he didn’t give a shit about Ellie or checking on her. All he wanted was to find something to cover Santana. The decision was taken out of his hands when he almost stumbled over Ellie’s arm in the darkened hallway.

“Fuck!” he yelled, dropping to his knees. He rolled the emaciated woman onto her back. “Ellie?” He tapped her cheek, hoping to get a reaction, but nothing happened.

“Momma!” Santana cried as she lunged for the prone woman.

Stake did his best not to notice the way Santana’s heavy breasts swayed as she began to shake her mother. It wasn’t until his gaze landed on one of the bloody cuts that marred her bronzed skin that he snapped out of his lustful haze.
Fuck, I’m no better than Gordon.

“Momma, why’re you outta bed?” she asked Ellie.

He pressed his fingers against the side of Ellie’s neck. His suspicion was confirmed when he felt nothing but the rapidly cooling temperature of the slack-jawed woman. “She’s gone, bug.”

“No!” she cried out and pressed her cheek against her mother’s chest.

Although they would never know why Ellie was out of her bed, he wanted to believe the bitch had heard what was happening to Santana and had tried to help. As far as he knew, it would have been the first time in Ellie’s life that she’d put her only child above her own needs.

He pulled a blanket off Ellie’s bed and wrapped it around Santana, hoping the smell of her mother would comfort her to some degree. “Let me get Ellie back into bed.”

When Santana refused to move, he decided to give her a few minutes alone. He stepped out into the living room and called Cecil. Unfortunately, Ellie’s death had made the situation even more complicated, and he would need the help of his brothers.

“Yeah,” Cecil answered.

“I’ve got a situation,” Stake began. He stepped out onto the porch and looked toward Gordon’s house. There wasn’t a single light on in the place, and the sheriff’s car wasn’t in the drive.

“What’ve you gotten yourself into now?”

“Gordon beat and raped Santana. I found her about fifteen minutes ago.” Just saying the words had his blood boiling once more. His right hand clenched into a fist as he fought for control. “Evidently Ellie tried to get out of bed to help, but collapsed and died before she could do anything.”

“Holy fuck!” Cecil barked.

“I need to bring Santana into the club, but I need your permission first. She needs to see Doc.” His attention landed on a dark patch on the rotting porch floor. He reached in through the broken screen door and turned on the porch light.
Blood.
He didn’t know how badly she’d hurt Gordon, but it appeared to be more than a mere scratch.

“Ellie’s dead?” Cecil asked.

“Yeah,” Stake confirmed, knowing Ellie was the reason the club had turned their back on Santana in the first place.

“Bring Santana in. I’ll start a pot of coffee for Doc.” Cecil sighed. “What’re you going to do about Ellie?”

“I don’t know yet, but there’s something else you should know.” He took a deep breath. He wasn’t sure how Cecil was going to react to the news about the sheriff. Although the two men didn’t appear to be friends, they had worked together for years. “She managed to inflict at least one knife wound to Gordon before he got away.” He couldn’t keep the grin off his face as he realized how brave the woman was. “There’s blood on the porch.” He turned back to the house. “And a pool just inside the front door.”

“I’ll send someone over to take care of it,” Cecil replied, his voice tight with barely suppressed anger.

“Thanks.” Stake hung up and shoved the phone back into his pocket. He knew the situation would put the club in the middle of a shitstorm with the sheriff and possibly, the Broken Ridge Police Department. The fact that Cecil was willing to help said a lot about his feelings toward innocents. The Kings had always protected the women and children of the club, but Ellie had made it impossible for the brothers to look after her and Santana after Smash’s incarceration and subsequent death.

Stake returned to the bedroom and found Santana sitting up, staring down at her mother, that goddamn knife still clutched to her chest. “Let me get Ellie back to bed. Then, I need to get you to Doc.”

“We can’t just leave her here.” She used the wall to brace herself as she struggled to get to her feet.

It was further proof that he needed to get her out of the house and to the club as soon as possible. “Let me take care of you first. Then we’ll figure out what to do about Ellie.” He settled Ellie onto her bed and pulled a sheet up over her body. He noticed the bottles of pain pills on the bedside table. “She’s not in pain anymore,” he reminded Santana.

The comment seemed to help because she nodded, dislodging the blanket enough to remind him of what she’d gone through. Christ, the bruises and bloody streaks fueled his anger once more.

He readjusted the blanket, making sure her breasts were covered before gently lifting her off her feet and into his arms. When she started to protest, he shook his head. “Let me take care of you.”

* * * *

Santana rested her cheek against Stake’s muscled thigh as they road down the back roads to the Kings’ clubhouse. Each time he hit a pothole, he would brush the back of his hand down her arm and apologize. She didn’t have the heart to tell him her entire body felt numb. It seemed to make him feel better to pity her, so she’d let him.

“After Doc examines you, I’ll take you to my place. I’ve got a spare room that you can have for as long as you want it.” He began to pet her hair away from her face. “We need to talk at some point soon before we get to the club about what happened. Cecil will want to know, and I’d rather be the one to tell him.”

She nodded. Despite Stake’s familial connection with Cecil, she couldn’t stand the man. For reasons she couldn’t put her finger on, she didn’t trust the Prez. Maybe it had been the way the club had treated her father or the way Cecil had often looked at her mother when Smash had still been a member of the club. Whatever it was, she had no desire to tell the Prez what his paid sheriff had done to her.

“Can you tell me?” Stake asked.

She lifted the blanket to cover her face. She was nothing, had been for years, but it had taken Gordon’s treatment to solidify her place in the world. “It doesn’t matter.”

They rode for another minute or so before he let up on the gas and the truck slowed to a stop. “It matters because you matter.” He uncovered her face and stared down at her. “As soon as I get you settled, I’m going after that bastard. Do you really believe I’d do that if you meant nothing to me?”

She gazed up at the handsome man. What could she possibly say that would make him understand? He meant well, she knew he did, but had the attempted rape happened two days earlier, he wouldn’t have lifted a finger to help her. The truth hurt. “Why’d you stop coming over when Dad was convicted?”

He released his white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel to rub his face. “Ellie. She blackmailed the club. Told us if we didn’t stay far away from both of you, she’d tell the cops everything she knew. We had two choices, kill her or do what she’d asked. It was out of respect for Smash that we chose the second option, but don’t you believe for a second that it was easy. I even talked to Smash shortly after he went to prison about her demands. He told me that you needed your mother, and I should do what she asked.”

Stunned at the news, Santana broke eye contact and turned her attention to the set of keys dangling from the ignition. She wondered what kind of information her mom had used to blackmail the club. Growing up with Smash as her father, she’d had no illusions of what kind of men her dad hung around with. “So you walked away.”

He blew out a ragged breath. “The first year or so, it was hell, not knowing if Ellie was taking care of you. It got so bad, that I began to volunteer for every road trip the club needed to make.” He brushed Santana’s cheek. “It wasn’t easy. I promise you that. You were just a skinny teenager back then, and I saw you as a kid sister or something, but things have changed.” He removed his hand. “Fuck. I shouldn’t have said that, sorry.”

“It’s okay,” she mumbled. It wasn’t, of course, but she didn’t dare tell him that she’d continued to fantasize about him long after he’d stopped coming around. “It’s been years. I can’t expect you to feel the same way about me.”

“That’s not what I meant,” he growled, clearly upset. “You’re a woman, and that’s how I see you.”

Confused, she pushed herself up to a seated position. “I don’t understand.”

“No, you don’t.” His cell phone rang, cutting off further conversation. He glanced at the display. “It’s Cecil.”

She scooted over and leaned against the passenger door, making sure to keep the blanket wrapped tightly around her while still clutching the sheathed knife.

“Yeah,” Stake answered. “Shit, what do you want me to do?” He nodded and glanced at her. “Okay. Yeah, no, I understand.” He ended the call and shoved the phone back into the pocket of his black leather cut. “Birdie, Hog’s wife, called and said the Gordon was just brought into the hospital. A Broken Ridge cop spotted him slumped over the wheel at the edge of town. According to Birdie, he’s on his way into surgery.”

Her hand flew to her mouth. She’d never be sorry for stabbing that fat pig, but the fear of going to prison was enough to steal her breath.

“Cecil thinks it would be best for me to take you to a hospital in San Antonio. Cops in the city won’t be as likely to bow down to Gordon.”

“No cops. He said he’d kill me if I went to the cops,” she argued.

“I know he did, bug, but you need to trust that we can keep you safe.” He put the truck in gear and continued down the road.

Santana had little choice but to trust Stake. She had no one else, and she couldn’t imagine going up against the county deputies as well as Broken Ridge cops without having some kind of protection.

“Once we tell the hospital why we’re there, they’ll call the police, and hopefully, they’ll bring someone in for you to talk to.”

She studied his profile in the faint green glow of the dashboard. She’d been alone for years with no one who gave a damn about her. “I don’t need anyone to talk to.”