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CHAPTER TWO: CICELY

I shake my head as the men rush out as if they’re on-duty firemen who just got a call-out. Even Stitch went with them. With the medic out of the clubhouse, I take responsibility for Mode. He has a massive bump on his head and has been unconscious since the guys found him in his office. The story is that he fell, but I recognize the victim of an attack when I see one. After all, I work in the ICU. I’ve seen my fair share of victims. Someone attacked Mode. Whoever did it managed to sneak past a clubhouse full of bikers, or someone already inside attacked him. My money is on this being an inside job. This means that not everyone in the clubhouse is loyal to Chrome. That knowledge makes me jumpy. I no longer feel safe here.

I met Chrome when he, Babe, and Min came to my rescue at the hospital where I work. Before that, I met Min when she brought in a brutalized woman. I knew the woman. She worked as a nurse at my previous place of employment, Chambers Medical Group. Turns out that someone was kidnapping and torturing former employees in an attempt to locate the previous owners of the clinic. When the men came after me, I contacted Min. She brought her man, Babe, and Chrome to rescue me. Chrome offered me sanctuary in the clubhouse of the Demon Dawgs. I snort at the memory. His offer had been more of an order. One I resented at first, but eventually had to admit that I felt safer here. At least I had felt safer. The attack on Mode changed everything.

Locking the door behind me, I return to the common room and sit at the bar.

“Can I get you anything? A glass of white wine?” Sammy asks me. He’s a club prospect. Which means he’s working to gain full membership in the club. From how Chrome explained it to me, it sounds an awful lot like being an unpaid intern, but infinitely more degrading. Unlike other prospects who spend their days running crazy errands or washing and rewashing the members’ bikes, Sammy spends most of his time behind the bar because he cannot go outside—something about being a target.

“I’ll just take a Diet Coke,” I reply. It’s late enough in the day that a glass of white wine would be welcome, but I should keep a clear head.

“How is Mode doing?” Sam asks when he places a glass of ice and an unopened bottle of soda before me.

“There is no change, so I’ll be recommending moving him to a hospital. The doctors can run tests and monitor him. Plus, if he remains unconscious, he’ll need an IV and a feeding tube.”

Sammy nods in agreement as he wipes down the bar.

“You see everything that happens in here,” I start. Sammy tenses but gives me a nod. “Any idea who attacked Mode?”

He opens his mouth and closes it again before shaking his head. “I don’t know. Someone must have snuck in the back.”

I know he’s lying, but I don’t call him out. He’s in a tenuous position, and I refuse to make his life more difficult by forcing him to admit something I already know to be true. Someone Chrome and the others trust attacked Mode. So, instead of pushing it, I changed the subject. “How do you like being a prospect? Do you think you’ll stick it out and become a member?”

His shoulders relax at my change of topic. “I think so, but that depends on Chrome and the others. I feel bad because he took me on even when he already had enough prospects. Some might not make the cut, but they're all good candidates from what I’ve seen. It may come down to him being unable to fit me in.”

“What will you do if they don’t patch you in?”

He shrugs. “Don’t know. I can’t stay in Chicago without the support of the club.”

“Why?”

“You don’t know my story?” I shake my head. “Are you religious?”

I frown at his question. I was brought up in a Christian home. My parents were religious. Even if they were on death’s door, they wouldn’t miss Sunday service. Me? I never got the appeal. Religion always seemed pointless to me. Who wanted to waste an hour or more a week listening to a lecture telling you that you were going to hell unless you believed in some invisible man in the sky without proof? I’d always leaned more toward science and facts than fantasies and myths.

“I’m not religious,” I tell him. “Does that make a difference?”

“It makes it easier for me to trust you,” Sam admits. “You see, my parents are extremely religious. They believe the leader of their church to be omnipotent. That his word is law and his actions are righteous. So, when the priest requested that they bring my fourteen-year-old sister to him, they did. He ordered them to wait outside the office and not interfere, no matter what they heard. They ignored her screams and pleas as he tore off her clothes and held her down so he could rape her.”

I gasp at his story, reaching out to grasp his hand. He clings to me as the tears cascade down his face. “What happened?”

“I heard her screaming and rescued her. I broke down the door and stopped him before he could shove his dick inside my baby sister. He’s lucky I was more concerned about protecting her than avenging her, or I might have cut his dick off. I had to fight off my parents to get her to safety. I called the police. They arrested him for the attempted rape and they arrested my parents for child endangerment.”

“You’re a hero,” I say.

He snorts. “Tell that to the congregation. Several of them weren’t happy with what I’d done. They tracked me down and beat the shit out of me. I think they wanted to kill me to stop me from testifying against their priest. Chrome and the others stepped in and offered me sanctuary. I’m stuck inside until after the trial. Even after it’s over, I don’t know if I can stay here.”

“Where’s your sister?” I ask.

“She’s living with our aunt in Louisiana. My mom’s sister. She has no time for religion, especially after what happened to my sister, Jess.”

“Are you going to join them after the trial?”

“No. My aunt can’t afford another mouth to feed. I’ve thought about moving closer to them, so that I can be nearer to my sister. I learned the Demon Dawgs have a chapter in New Orleans. I’m considering talking with Chrome about possibly transferring there after the trial. But I feel guilty for asking.”

“Why?”

“He’s given me a home here. I feel ungrateful for wanting to leave.”

“If you explained to him about wanting to be near your sister, he’d understand. If you want, I can broach the subject with Chrome first.”

Before he can respond, the front door bangs open, allowing all the men to pour inside. Stitch and Bush carry a man between them. I jump up to follow them to the infirmary to offer my help.

The biker, with Trigger on his kutte, has a small bump on the head. He’s already coming around when Stitch lays him on the bed beside Mode. As Stitch deals with the injury, I turn my attention to Mode. With nothing else to do, I retake his vitals and find his blood pressure has spiked enough to cause me concern. I relay those concerns to Stitch.

We hear a commotion coming from downstairs. Raised voices and the slamming of doors have me glancing up in time to see Babe storm past the door. A few minutes later, he passes by carrying his and Min’s luggage. I glance at Stitch, who stares out the door with concern.

I can feel the tension and consider returning to my room when Chrome enters the infirmary. I’m so focused on how exhausted and beaten down he looks that I barely register the conversation between him and Stitch. When Chrome calls for me to follow him, I do. I’m hoping I can talk him into lying down and getting some rest, maybe after he’s had something to eat. I’m in full care mode, so it takes me longer than it should for his words to sink in.

“You want me to leave?” I ask in shock.

“I think that would be best.”

“Best for me or best for you?” I demand.

“Best for both of us.”

I don’t know why he’s pushing me away, but I have enough pride not to stay where I’m not wanted. “Fine,” I respond, turning on my heel and storming into my room. I beat Babe’s time by several seconds. Of course, he was packing for two. When I dragged my suitcase out, I found Chrome waiting for me.

“I can get that,” Chrome offers, but I push past him.

“I don’t need your help.”

He ignored my protest and pried the suitcase from my hand before carrying it outside.

“I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings. You fought me when I brought you here. Why are you fighting me when I let you leave?”

I don’t answer but glare at him with disgust. Does he not understand? Was I the only one who thought we were building something? Was I just a fool for thinking he was offering me more than refuge? Well, that was my mistake, wasn’t it? He says the danger is past, so there is no sense in my staying here any longer. I see the gate open to allow three motorcycles to enter. I take advantage of the distraction to get into my car and take off.