Page 4 of Blue-Eyed Jacks (Destroyers MC: Skilletsville PA #1)

S ix months before this horrible week, Gina held a phone in front of my face.

“Memorize this number.” I barely had time to before Shock packed up the entire crew, and we lit out of Skilletsville just after midnight.

Life was kicking my ass, and my eighteenth birthday was the lowest point of them all.

Shock thought it would be “fun” to take me out in the cold and snow barely dressed with my ass hanging out of a borrowed miniskirt and a coat that truly didn’t deserve the title.

I honestly thought I was going to die on my birthday.

He poked a blade against my neck, under my ear, and leaned in to say, “You squeal, you die. We’ll be watching.” The last I saw of him was the ugly skull on the back of his jacket.

* * *

A Week Later

“Who should we call for your discharge?” The nurse busied herself winding the mask and plastic tubes that saved my life.

My silence drew her attention.

“Parents?” Her eyes dipped to my ring. “Husband?” As she said the word, she pointed to the bruises on my arm and followed up with, “Someone else? Someone you feel safe with?” She checked the door for any visitors, but there were none.

No one came to the hospital. I could’ve died, and no one cared. But they were watching.

“Can you show me how to dial out?” I didn’t trust her. I didn’t trust anyone. I couldn’t.

She explained the phone system. “Who should we expect?”

Honestly? I didn’t know. And it would be better if no one here knew. “No one.”

Her face tightened. “I can give you a help-line. Would you call it?”

“Is it local?”

She smiled and nodded.

“No.”

“They can help you.”

No service was untainted between my father’s and my husband’s influences. “No.”

Her lips pursed into a knot. “Fine. The doctor will be in later this afternoon with your discharge paperwork and prescriptions.”

That didn’t give me much time. It was at least three hours from Skilletsville to Pittsburgh. I needed everything in place before I was discharged. I tapped out the numbers.

It rang long enough that I doubted anyone would pick up.

“It’s your dime. Talk.” The man who answered had a rich voice despite the sarcastic greeting. It wasn’t Gina. But I had to assume it was someone she knew who could help.

“This is Kate. I’m at Mercy Hospital in Pittsburgh. I’ll be discharged some time today. I need—”

He interrupted me, “Hang on. I’ll look up that part.”

What? We didn’t have time for this. Someone could walk in at any second. “I’m getting discharged. They’re probably going to call my father, and he’ll call Shock, and I don’t—”

“Sure, we can deliver. It’ll cost extra. Address?”

Was this code? I didn’t have money. But this was my only chance. “Are you talking to someone else?”

“No.”

Oh. “Is there someone with you?”

“Yup. That’s why we charge extra.”

He wasn’t making a lot of sense. “Gina gave me this number.”

“Yeah, figured as much. I can swing by the dealership and have it to you in about three hours.”

My insides sang with hope. “Is this Jackson?” I’d seen him hand a boy his phone. And it was the same phone Gina showed me later.

He scoffed. “Listen, do you want the part or not?”

If part meant freedom, absolutely. “Yes.”

“Cool. What’s your card number?”

“I don’t have any money.” The lack of any was one way Shock controlled me.

“Okay, let me repeat it.” He rattled off a string of numbers. “Expiration date?”

I hoped he was still pretending to be conversing with a customer. But in case he needed information on timing, I said, “As soon as possible?”

“Thanks. I’ll run it and get on the road. Hey, Pinner, I’m heading west, do you want me to drop off those tires for you while I’m out?” The latter half was slightly muffled, as if he’d covered the microphone.

There was a murmured answer in the background.

“No shit. It’s going to take me all fucking day.”

I tried to be patient, but this conversation didn’t guarantee he would help. For all I knew, the numbers had gotten crossed, and I was listening to a completely different conversation.

“Yeah, fuck ya later, dick.” There was a rustle and more noise in the background. It sounded like hammering and loud rock music. “I’m out, assholes, parts delivery.”

Then the noise decreased dramatically. I heard the squeak of a heavy door and the beeping of a vehicle door alert. “Okay, babe, Kate, is it?”

“Yes.”

“I’m in the work truck. They’ll tag the mileage, so here’s what to expect.

I can be outside the hospital in three hours, but I’ll be in a bright fucking yellow tow truck.

And that’s no fucking good. We need to meet somewhere that this bitch isn’t going to stand out.

How about a gas station or coffee shop?”

“I don’t have clothes.” Or a ride, or money, or anything.

There was a pause. “No shit?” His voice was filled with innuendo and intrigue.

“Jackson?”

“That’s the name, don’t use it where ears can hear, got it. Call me Bill for now.”

He didn’t have to tell me twice. “Bill. I don’t even know if they saved what I came in wearing.”

“Mercy Hospital. Fuck that’s by the river. I’ll have to make a couple of stops. Are you calling from a hospital phone?”

“Yes.”

“ Double fuck . After you hang up here, call a couple random numbers. At least one business, got it? Keep them on the line as long as you can. I need you to stall for four.”

“Hours?”

“Kate, do you want help or not?”

My life depended on it. “Yes.”

“Stall. And make a trail of numbers so this isn’t the only one. I’m ditching this phone as soon as I can.”

“Thank you.”

“Thank me when we’re as far as fucking possible from where you are now. Until then, keep your shit tight. Understand? I don’t do fucking crying or hysterics, got it?”

“Got it.” I would not be that woman. I managed this far. I could do a few more hours. Or days, or months, or for-fucking ever if necessary. As long as I was free.

“No fucking clothes. Sheee-it. That’s a man’s wet d—” He hung up, still talking.

Three hours and forty minutes later, there was a soft knock at the door. I clutched my blanket, worried someone had found me.

Jackson stuck his head in. I hadn’t paid much attention that night, but he was handsome.

Devilish arched eyebrows, little smile lines forming along the outside of his blue eyes, and a well-kept beard.

His hair was light brown, short, and a bit messy, but trimmed cleanly around the sides and back.

He wore a dark gray wool coat and a brown scarf.

Under it, he had a polo shirt and gray khakis.

He didn’t look like any biker I’d ever met.

And he was carrying a large shopping bag with the local discount store logo plastered on the sides.

He was everything a contemporary white knight should be.

Then he opened his mouth. “You look like shit.”

“Gee, thanks. I almost died.” A slight cough came out, and I held my ribs where I’d pulled several muscles that still ached. Just sitting up and swinging my legs over the edge of the bed winded me.

He set the bag down on the bed. “I guessed a size small on most of it but added medium in the mix.” His gaze was glued on my bare legs. There were fresh bruises and scrapes on my knees and finger-shaped bruises on my thighs that had turned an ugly green.

“Underwear?” I wheezed. This wouldn’t work if I couldn’t breathe. I dug into the bag of medicine on the night stand, pulled out the inhaler, and took a long puff.

He pulled out a red lace boy short style and set it on my lap.

I glared at him while taking the second puff.

“You said no clothes.”

I let out the air and coughed once. “I suppose the bra matches?” It hurt to bend over to pull the undies on.

The corner of his mouth went up. “No bra.” His eyes dipped to my chest. “I didn’t remember the size. But I’d guess at least a thirty-four C?”

“Thirty-two.” But he got the cup size right.

His mouth formed a little “oh.” And his eyes hadn’t moved from my tits. “Pink nipples?”

If I wasn’t dependent on him, I’d kill him. “You will never know.”

That snarky reply took his attention off my tits. His grin got bigger, and he bit his bottom lip. “Okay. Do you need help getting dressed?”

“No.” I climbed to my feet, holding onto the metal frame in case I got dizzy again.

“Are you sure?” His eyes trailed down my legs.

I snatched the bag of clothes and glared at him. But maybe he needed a reminder of what I’d been through. “Do you have a gun?”

He nodded. “In the truck.”

“Too bad. I’d ask you for it right now, because, if another biker ever touches me again, I’ll shoot ‘em.” With that, I turned my leg so he could see the horrific blotchy green bruises on the inside of my thighs near my crotch.

I didn’t give a shit if he could see the new underwear he’d bought or my pubes or anything.

I needed him to get it through his head that he was not here to flirt with me.

“That is courtesy of my fucking husband. Understand?”

The smile fell into an angry line. “Yeah. Hurry. I bribed the nurse on duty.”

Shit. I left the door to the bathroom slightly open so I could listen for trouble. “Do you think she’ll remember you?”

“She’ll remember. That’s why I didn’t give her a real name.”

I tugged a sweater over my head to cover my nipple points that graced the simple white t-shirt he’d bought. “She didn’t get suspicious? Ask for ID?”

“Bribed, Kate. Of course she’s suspicious. Let’s go. The hall is clear.”

The snow boots he brought were a size too big. But they’d have to work.

“Come on.” He tugged my hand with a squeeze. But then stopped me from moving. “Wait.” He twisted the wedding ring on my left hand. It pinched the skin under it.

“Ow.”

He dropped my hand. “Take it off. Leave it on the nightstand. Nothing from that world comes with, got it?”

“It’s stuck.”

“Spit on it. Hurry.” He kept an eye on the hallway.

I did. The ring slipped off with a little force. I set it right on the discharge paperwork I wasn’t going to take with me. I stuffed the medicine bag into the now almost empty shopping bag. “Ready.”