Page 17 of Blackbeard (Blackjacks MC #2)

Chapter ten

Leigh

I clenched my teeth until my jaw ached as the shock settled in. People milled around me, hazy at the edges of my vision, rendered in shadows I struggled to make out. The pavement was cool against my back, but the blood staining my hands was so hot…

Blackbeard knelt next to me with the same medical kit he’d used this morning.

“How bad is it?”

I blinked slowly, my sluggish brain grappling to understand what he was saying. Then Baby Doll responded.

“Bullet just grazed her. Didn’t hit anything serious, but she’s bleeding more heavily than she should be.”

“She probably took some painkillers this morning that thinned her blood,” Blackbeard replied. “When I got home last night, she was drunk.”

I frowned, trying to push their hands away.

“Stop—stop talking about me when I’m…I’m right here.”

Baby Doll easily caught my wrists in my weakened state, holding my arms aside while Blackbeard set to work.

“Was this…your plan all along?” I slurred. “Get your Prospect to…to do the dirty work of offing your pain-in-the-ass wife?”

“No,” Blackbeard gritted out. “This was not the plan.”

His bloodied fingers made quick work of cleaning my wound calmly. Baby Doll glanced over her shoulder.

“Can someone bring a cage around? We need to get Leigh home.”

Home. Dad. I shook my head, making the world spin violently.

“No, no, don’t…don’t take me home,” I babbled mindlessly. “Then my dad will know what happened and he…he won’t like this. He’ll be angry.”

“Leigh,” Blackbeard said with an infinite amount of patience. “I’m taking you to my home.”

A beat of silence as I processed that.

“Ohhhhh.”

“She’s delirious,” Baby Doll whispered.

“Hallucinating from blood loss,” Blackbeard agreed.

“Hey,” I protested. “I heard that. Are you…saying…I’m crazy? I’m not crazy. I married a totally hot biker I’ve never met before, but that…that doesn’t make me crazy .”

“In about ten seconds, this morphine I’m giving you is going to kick in, sweetheart,” Blackbeard said, and I felt the slightest pinprick of pain in my arm. “After that, you won’t hear anything at all.”

I took a breath to object, but darkness pulsed at the edges of my vision, and my body grew heavy as a stone. I plunged into unconsciousness, with Blackbeard hovering above me, speaking softly.

“Close your eyes, princess. I’ve got you.”

It seemed as if I slept for only a few seconds when I woke to find a shadowed ceiling above me. Cool, silky black sheets wrapped around my body. Blackbeard’s bed. A dull, pulsing throb marked my lower ribs on the left side.

Gingerly, I reached up with tentative fingers, probing the area. I found the rough texture of gauze.

Memories began to tumble back into my mind in a blur—Hot Shot’s garage, the frosty greeting I received, and Crash with that gun…

“Should have seen that coming a mile away,” I groaned.

“Now that surprises me.”

I startled at the sound of Blackbeard’s voice. Turning my head, I found him seated in a chair next to the bed, long legs stretched out and crossed at the ankle.

A faint glow from the adjoining bathroom—door propped open a few inches—cast a golden gleam over his long hair. It was the first time I’d seen his hair down, tumbling in dark curls to his shoulders and it looked touchably soft.

His phone rested on his nightstand beside him, but he didn’t appear to be doing anything more than watching over me while I slept.

“Why?” I croaked.

God, my throat felt as dry as the Sahara desert.

“I figured you would be crowing about how your husband put you in danger as soon as you woke up,” Blackbeard said. “Never expected you to blame yourself. You’re usually the type to weasel your way out of shouldering any responsibility.”

He picked up a glass of water from the bedside table. I expected him to hand it to me. Instead, he slid his palm under my head and lifted me up, holding the glass to my lips while I took a sip.

“You said there would be no princess treatment in this house,” I pointed out.

Blackbeard hummed and eased my head back down to the pillow again.

“I wouldn’t exactly call this princess treatment. More like doctor-patient treatment.”

“In that case, I don’t mind a little roleplay in the bedroom, Doctor Sexy.”

“Stop,” Blackbeard said, trying to growl, even though it came out more like a soft admonishment. “You’re not lucid enough to flirt without embarrassing yourself.”

“I’m lucid enough to figure out that you haven’t left my side,” I replied, attempting to play it off as coy. Instead, I just felt…touched.

Blackbeard was a better man than I gave him credit for. I would betray him one day. And I’d certainly done everything in my power to make his life as difficult as possible lately. I didn’t deserve to be cared for like this.

Blackbeard looked away with a vague gesture.

“You were bleeding for a while. I had to keep an eye on you in case a transfusion was needed.”

“How long have I been out?” I replied.

“About twelve or thirteen hours.”

It made sense that he wouldn’t take me to the hospital unless it was something he couldn’t handle himself. Gunshot wounds got reported to the cops. Then they would start sniffing around, asking questions.

“Is Crash…?”

I trailed off, unsure what I wanted to ask. The Forsaken killed his brother. It was understandable that he would come after me—the President’s daughter. And God knows, when I finally betrayed the Blackjacks, every single one of them would want to kill me in retaliation too.

So I couldn’t exactly hold a grudge against Crash for doing what he did.

“He’s on toilet-scrubbing duty for six months,” Blackbeard said. “And his duration as a Prospect will be extended by another year.”

“Ouch,” I said.

A Prospect usually served on the bottom of the totem pole for one year before his club voted on whether he was granted status as an official member or shut out for good.

But Crash now had to endure twice that sentence.

I smoothed my hands over the sheets, shifting slightly with a wince at the tug of pain in my side. But I could tell I wasn’t restricted by jeans anymore. Lifting a corner of the sheets, I glanced down at my body for confirmation. Yep, just my bra and panties were left.

“Were you the lucky one who volunteered to get rid of my clothes?” I asked.

“No,” Blackbeard replied. “Baby Doll took care of that.”

I mumbled a noise of disappointment.

“That’s too bad.”

Blackbeard regarded me with a long look, dark eyes leveled on me. He tilted his head, as if to say, you know better than to act up right now.

A few butterflies took wing in my stomach despite the fuzzy state of my brain. I wasn’t firing on all cylinders yet, but my body still reacted to being the center of his attention.

“So, how long do I have to be cooped up in bed?” I added. “Not that I’m complaining. What’s not to like? My husband is waiting on me hand and foot. I could get used to this.”

Blackbeard chuckled and finger-combed his hair back with a sigh, tying it into the ponytail he always wore at the nape of his neck.

“Two or three days minimum. A week or more would be best, but I doubt you’ll sit still for that.”

“I’ll do whatever my doctor tells me to,” I replied.

He huffed a laugh and shook his head as he rose to his feet.

“You must be feeling better already. That sassy mouth of yours is reappearing, princess.”

When Blackbeard retrieved his phone from the nightstand, that’s when it dawned on me that he was leaving. And something squeezed in my stomach.

I reached out and hooked my fingers lightly around his pinkie. Smoothing my thumb over his brown, tattooed skin, callused and warm. For a few seconds, we didn’t move, didn’t say anything. A knot formed in my throat.

Fuck, I felt so needy .

I wasn’t trying to manipulate him. At least, not this time. But I couldn’t bear to be alone right now. In the dark. In this massive bed. There was no one else to turn to. I couldn’t call Dad for comfort. Couldn’t call Torch to keep me company with sex.

I pressed my tongue to the roof of my mouth, practically choking on the words that welled up, crowded against the back of my teeth. I couldn’t look at Blackbeard, but I felt the intensity of his gaze lingering on me.

“Do you…?” I faltered.

Blackbeard shifted his hand, enveloping my fingers in his grip. At last, I tipped my head back to look up at him.

He must have seen what I couldn’t say written on my face.

Do you have to go?

Blackbeard settled on the edge of the bed and eased back against the pillows. He tucked an arm around my shoulders, pulling me into his side. I released a breath of relief, resting my head on his chest.

I should have felt triumphant that he was playing right into my hands. I should have taken the chance to rib him about how I was winning him over, that he was going soft for his wife.

Instead, I said nothing at all, comforted by his presence as I slipped off to sleep again.

Yelling jarred me awake. I sat bolt upright and groaned as fire shot through my left side. I clamped a hand to my bandage and struggled out of bed. Grabbing my robe, I tugged it on, tied the sash in a sloppy loop, praying it would hold.

“Don’t tell me to fucking calm down! My daughter was shot!”

Shit. Dad is here.

I hurried out of the bedroom, following the sound of the voices into the living room. Three Blackjacks and five Forsaken were crowded together, standing nose to nose, posturing with angry gestures.

“I left Leigh in your care,” Dad snapped. “The next thing I hear, one of your men tried to kill her. It’s explicitly stated in our agreement that you keep her safe. We had a deal!"

“We’ve handled the situation,” Kingpin said, putting his hands out in a placating motion. “Crash has been properly punished—”

“Bullshit,” Torch cut in. “You probably gave him nothing more than a slap on the wrist. Hand over the little fucker.”

“That’s not going to happen,” Blackbeard barked.

Torch bullied into his personal space, just shy of shoving Blackbeard in the chest.

“Then we’ll fucking take him from you.”

My legs felt like melted butter. I leaned against the wall, head spinning, gritting my teeth against the burning pain in my side.

“This is unforgivable,” Dad said, jabbing a finger at Kingpin. “How do I know you’re not screwing me over? I'm voiding our contract."

My heart stuttered. This was the first time I’d seen or heard from Dad since the marriage. And so far, he didn’t even know I was in the room, let alone said hello. He never returned my call, never texted me. But he was here now, ranting about the terms of that damned contract…

I learned a long time ago that Dad’s number one priority was his club. Always. That would never change. And I managed to live with it. But sometimes, I hated it. Like I did now.

“Dad?” I rasped.

No one noticed. They kept fighting amongst themselves.

I took a deep breath, bracing the muscles in my side for the inevitable jolt of pain that was about to hit me.

“Dad!” I snapped.

Yep, that hurt like hell. I stifled a groan.

Silence descended on the living room and everyone turned to look at me.

“Leigh, sweetie,” Dad said, crossing the room to my side.

When he wrapped his arms around me, I squeezed my eyes shut.

This. This is what I needed, what I craved , for so long. When was the last time he hugged me? I couldn’t remember. Maybe when I was ten years old…

A sob lodged in my throat, but I never cried in front of anyone.

I couldn’t break that record now. Pulling back, I mustered a smile and tried to smooth my tangled hair.

I could feel my dry, cracked mascara, which was probably a smudged mess around my eyes, but it was too late to do anything about that now.

“Quit your squabbling,” I said. “I need my beauty sleep.”

“You’re coming home with me,” Dad replied."The contract is done."

I shook my head and crossed my arms. With everyone staring at me, I felt vulnerable, exposed in my thin robe.

Under normal circumstances, I knew how to use all that attention to my advantage, but my side hurt, and I was still a little bruised, resenting that Dad had left me high and dry until the threat of breaking his precious contract brought him crawling out of the woodwork.

“I’m not going anywhere,” I said. “As you can see, I’m perfectly fine—”

Torch scoffed.

“You look like death warmed over, Leigh.”

I glared at him.

“Well, you certainly know how to make a woman feel sexy, don’t you?”

Torch snapped his mouth shut, only mildly chastened. His eyes still sparked with other things he chose not to say.

Dad grasped my upper arm and started pulling me to the door.

“This is not up for debate. We’re leaving.”

I twisted out of his grip and waded through the bikers, praying my knees wouldn’t give out. Blackbeard’s dark eyes locked on me, watching as I approached and stopped at his side. I looped my arm through his elbow.

“I’m staying here. With my husband.”

A tense hush fell over the room.

If Dad pulled me out now, everything we’d worked for, every inch of ground I’d painstakingly earned so far would be thrown out the window. Did the Blackjacks trust me? No. But Blackbeard was getting there.

Besides, no one would explicitly state it to my face, but I knew the gossip would fly behind my back. Daddy’s Little Princess had screwed up the whole plan by getting herself shot.

Deep in the back of my mind, a voice whispered skeptically.

Was I really staying to prove myself? So I didn’t blow my cover?

Or was there another reason—a more selfish reason—for choosing to stay?

I had to watch my step from now on. The line between reality and fiction was beginning to blur. If I wasn’t careful, I might start developing real feelings for my husband…