Footsteps down the hall had him pulling away, but that possessed look never changed. It was almost as if a demon had taken over his body.
A woman walked by, gave us a slight nod, but quickly kept going, only creating more condescending smirks to appear on his already ego-filled face.
“Now, this is what you’re going to do, Shasta. You’re going to return to the clubhouse. You’re going to sit back and keep your goddamn mouth shut. When I tell you to talk, you talk. Got me?”
I stared at the floor; submission practically being beaten into me.
“I understand.”
“Good girl. Besides,” he said coldly. “You and I both know that the only way out of the Lewd Outlaws MC is in a body bag. And I have one at home that’s just your size if you even dare to try to cross me again.”
My throat instantly went dry, his threats looming over me.
“Play with fire, Shasta, and I’ll fucking scorch you to a crisp.”
Then, before I could defend myself, he pushed away, heading straight for the elevator.
When I didn’t immediately move, his gaze shot my way, threatening me to defy him.
And like the robotic woman who had been beaten into submission, I traveled after him, walking behind him like a good Ol’ Lady always should.
Chapter Twelve
Ranger
“How’s the head today?” I asked Jesse when I entered the room, finding him sitting up trying to eat a cup of Jell-O.
“P—pounding. L—like. D—drums.”
He said every word individually, the stuttering becoming more and more apparent. His cute nurse Imogen had been by quite a few times throughout the day, and every time she entered the room, my heart rate increased dramatically. A couple of times I caught her gaze, but the second we made eye contact, she looked away, tending to Jesse and doing her best to ignore me.
Something about my cut was scaring her off, and I couldn’t quite put my finger on it.
“That sucks, man. Any idea when they’re going to let you out of here?”
He frowned, shaking his head. “I—I can’t w—walk.”
What? Did I hear him right?
“What do you mean?”
“M—motor f—function is b—b—b—bad.” That last long stutter got to me; I hated seeing him like this.
Plopping down in the chair beside him, I watched tentatively as he shoveled, very slowly, pieces of green gelatin in his face.
“So, I have to ask you something. And I know it’s going to be hard for you to answer with your stutter and all, but I have to know.”
His head, mirroring a sloth, carefully looked up at me. “O—okay.”
“Do you remember much before you got hurt?”
He shook his head. Again, it was so slow.
“Because Shasta said some things, and I’m trying to process if she was telling the truth. Not that it really matters, because if you did what she’s insinuating you did, it’s quite possible I’m just as guilty.”
Guilt suddenly swirled within his vacant gaze.
“Sh—she told you?”