Claiming Crusher (Savage Brothers MC #4)(12)

“That’s just it, Boss…she had a note taped to her chest.” Crush reaches inside his jacket pocket and hands Dragon a piece of folded white paper.

Dragon opens the paper and you can see it’s covered with blood. My panic inches up another notch as I swallow down a large drink of the wine cooler. This woman they are discussing…was beaten… beaten and bloody. Was she dying…or dead? Why is Crusher here telling Dragon? Shouldn’t he be at the hospital? Did anyone call the police? Is this Jess some dirty little secret they are going to keep hidden?

I tune them out again, but not by choice. My head is full of memories. Of my last beating, of the injuries that are too many to count. How I was hidden and chained like a dog. If not for Ms. Martens….my hand shakes at her memory…at all the memories. I can’t be around Dragon and his men. I can’t be around Crusher. I don’t want to be around men who can act so calmly about a woman being hurt. I don’t want to be around men who come to each other to talk about things instead of calling from a hospital or calling the cops! Something!

I force my attention back on the three in the room and stand up. I need to get out of the house. It feels like air is being withheld from me. I need to breathe. I look up at Crusher and he looks over my body again. This time I don’t feel excitement though. No, this time it is bone-deep fear I feel. Time for kick-ass Dani to come out and give the world a f*ck you. I grab a bottle of vodka, stuff it in the inside pocket of my leather jacket, carefully hiding what I’m doing behind the opened refrigerator door.

Nicole has this idea that going to counseling will help me. It’s making things worse. It’s bringing up all the shit I’ve fought to bury. One of their main rules is to not use alcohol to deal with your problems. Fuck that! They don’t live in my brain. I need the alcohol. So, I hide how bad my drinking has become from Nicole. I hide a lot from her. I couldn’t handle it if she knew how pathetic I truly am. I go to stand in the far corner, watching everyone and waiting for my chance to escape. Dragon lays a kiss on Nicole that almost melts my panties. What would it be like to have a man so crazy into you that he sets you on fire just saying goodbye? I immediately look at Crusher, because I’m stupid. I assumed he would be watching Dragon and Nic play tonsil hockey, but his eyes are glued on me. There’s a heat in those dark eyes that…if I had been a stronger person…a different person, I might have investigated. I am not a different person though, and all I can see right now when I look at either of them is how they dealt with a woman who was beaten and hurt. Worse, neither one of them seem in a hurry to go check on her—even now. They are more concerned with what happened instead of her and what she’s going through now…that’s wrong. So I give him a look that conveys my distaste for him and study my nails instead. When they finally leave, I look up at my friend and there’s so much I want to warn her about, but the words are frozen.

“Damn, Nic girl. You might have a problem,” I lamely say and I know she doesn’t understand why I said that. I can’t find the courage to have a serious talk, so I laugh it off.

*

We decided to spend the day shopping, hanging out and getting away from men in general. It was Nic’s idea and I agreed, as long as I didn’t have to watch some totally lame romantic sappy-crap movie. Nic loves them, but to me they’re stupid. I know better than anyone, that those movies are garbage. There are no happy endings.

It’s been a pretty good day and I have a great buzz going on. Buzz hell! I’m actually pretty f*cking drunk and I don’t really give a damn because my brain isn’t bombarding me with images of the past. Screw what the counselors are saying. I’ll take tonight’s feeling over the constant fear and pain I’ve been dealing with.

“Seriously Dani, what kind of twisted freak could come up with this in their head?” Nic asks.

“Quit your bitching, girl. Your ass made me watch four f*cking hours of Julia Freaking Roberts. Thought I was going to go into barf mode on that last one. I’m just a girl, standing in front of a boy, blah, blah, blah,” I respond and it’s not really a lie. I hate that damn movie. It makes you want to believe in fairytales.

“Shhh…” the lady behind us says, and it’s only because I’m drunk and took a second happy pill on top of that shit, that I’m able to not slap the shit out of her. She should consider herself lucky.

The nightmares have been so bad lately, I don’t think I’ve managed an hour’s sleep. Last night I woke up after dreaming about the last time Michael beat me and I swore he was standing over me, swinging Ms. Marten’s head back and forth like a pendulum. I can’t believe I moved closer to Michael. I should be in Mexico or something. The problem is, that’s not where Nic is, that’s not where Ray is and I’m terrified of being on my own. I’m still weak.

Nic thinks I have this hard shell around me. She thinks I’m a party girl, going to strip joints and getting laid every night. What would she say if she knew the truth? I go to the strip joints to watch the dancers. I need to be good at my job, learn the dances because if I go on the run, completely on my own, I will need to get a job quickly, that pays in cash and has great tips.

I don’t get laid every night. I haven’t had sex since Michael. I don’t even want sex. I’m afraid I may never want it again. I bullshit my way around men and then find some way to bow out. It’s worked so far, but it pisses me off. The whole world around me is having sex. I’m young damn it, even if I do feel like I’m eighty. I should be having sex. I picture Crusher immediately. Shit.