Page 28 of Toxic Biker

I meet Seth’s anxious stare. “They’ll be here to help, and I can give you some tequila or bourbon to help dull the pain and hopefully you can get some sleep.”

“I don’t want my bones r-re-set. I don’t want to betouched.”

Christ, witnessing him like this has me choking up and fighting back my own goddamn tears. We’ve gotten our asses kicked at practices, had various sports injuries and others from being dumbass teens, but he’s never experienced the ugly side of life before.

Not like this.

Not like I have, or any of these men around me have. Some have been through serious shit multiple times, but they’re still stubborn enough to keep fighting. We have to make Seth into a fighter somehow. I’m praying Lacey manages it with all her hope, love, and light shit, but we all know my prayers have never gotten me far when it comes to the people I care about.

“Baker, do we have anything in there soft that Seth can eat?”

His brow screws up, thinking a beat, then asks, “His jaw broken? Didn’t seem so to me.”

He’s not being a dick, just knows what a broken chop looks like from being around the club and spending time locked up. Shaking my head, I silently tap my front teeth when Seth has his eye closed.

Baker makes an ‘oh shit’ face and nods. “Got some cheesy, garlic potato soup left from last night’s dinner. Give me a sec and I’ll fix him up. Make sure it’s smooth for ‘em.”

“Appreciate it, brother.”

He nods and stops to ask Prez if he wants something for the kid. He’s still glued to Ripper like a spider monkey, holding on for dear life. He asks for a bowl of the Captain Puff cereal, since the little heathen won’t speak any words. Not that I can blame the brat, there’s no telling what the poor thing went through or witnessed. We still don’t have any idea who he belongs to, doubt it’s the woman though as she doesn’t seem to mind being away from him.

Baker stops by Angel next, smart enough to keep his eyes on Angel’s and not look at the chick our enforcer won’t let go of. Angel whispers in her ear, no doubt asking what she wants. She shakes her head, but my brother’s far too stubborn and doesn’t let it fly. He asks for a bowl of soup and some toast. Baker is all too eager to get into the kitchen to grab food, as it’s his domain around here.

One thing’s for certain, whatever happened to these people has them all types of fucked up, enough so they don’t want to talk or be touched. I can’t blame them; we’re used to a bit of carnage from time to time, but they obviously aren’t and at this point we have no idea how long any of them were kept. We have an educated guess of when Seth went to his meeting, but we don’t know if they took him right away or if he was able to leave before they got pissed and snatched him back up or how anything happened. I want to ask him but at the same time know he needs a chance to just breathe and exist before he gets peppered for more information.

I sit on the floor beside the couch, head in my hands, trying to work out what we know and what we don’t that may be of some help somewhere. “Brother,” I’m shaken out of my trance by Whiskey, and I can honestly say I have no idea how much time’s passed or if I was even awake. I thought I was but I’m going on fumes, my adrenaline all drained out of me, so I can’t tell up from down. “They’re here.”

“Huh?” I ask, glancing around, trying to get my bearings. The pill House gave me earlier must’ve worn off as well, and I’ve been coming down off it or something. I feel like I’ve been tuned completely out and have just woken back up. I feel almost fuzzy if that were a thing.

“The girls are here to help out your buddy, to patch him up however they can.”

“The food,” I begin, knowing Seth needs something in his stomach and help eating but Whiskey cuts me off.

“Club slut already helped him eat a bit. She was right beside you the entire time.” He cocks his head, carefully looking me over. It must click that I wasn’t all there and have been lost in my mind with everything as he holds out his hand. I take it and he helps pull me up. “You need to eat something too. Fill your stomach up. Burn your clothes. Take a hot shower, then fuck your girl. It’ll fix everything and you’ll be right as rain again tomorrow.”

“I can’t leave him. I don’t want Lace seeing him like that.”

“Brother. You’re surrounded by perfectly capable adults.” He gestures to the females going through various supplies they’ve spread out across a few tables. One’s in scrubs while the other is in a long white coat like she just left the hospital or something. They unpack stuff, set it in certain spots, and then discuss what they’re still missing. It’s like watching them talk in code, so I turn back to Whiskey instead.

He continues, “These two beautiful women are going to doctor him up. We’ll make sure Seth has everything he needs. You’ve done your part while a few of us had to stay back. Let us do ours now. Everyone on that ride needs food, a shower, and rest.”

He's gonna dad us all, and with how much we all respect his ass, we’ll probably all listen to what he tells us to do. With an exhale, I give in and nod. “’Kay. If you’ve got him, I can do the rest.”

“Go on, Plague. Take care of yourself, your woman will need to lean on you. She can’t do that if you’re not at your best, she’ll need you strong for her.”

Without a fight, I do as he says and head for the kitchen. I warm up a bowl of Baker’s famous golden potato soup, topping it with some freshly crumbled bacon, and realize I haven’t eaten shit since yesterday or the day before. No wonder the pill and alcohol hit me more than it typically would. I don’t remember eating or drinking anything. I was too busy trying to put the cartel into the ground so they could never hurt or take Lacey from me that I didn’t consider anything else in my life. Fuck. I hope she was smart enough to eat while I was gone. Knowing Baker, he’d have badgered Lacey until she tried half the shit in the kitchen, thankfully.

The soup goes down quickly, and it helps. I start to feel a little more like my usual black-hearted old self. I head outside through the back door and toss all of my bloody clothes aside from my boxers and boots into one of our grills. We have a few and this one in particular is for getting rid of evidence. I dump a little bit of gas and toss in a match. With an exhale of relief, I watch as the clothes burn down to ash before shutting the lid and heading back inside the clubhouse.

I have to shower before I touch Lacey. Bad enough she’ll have the hands of a killer on her, but I’m damn sure not letting any blood touch her silky smooth skin. I won’t dirty her up any more than I already have. She deserves better from me, and I’m determined to give it to her. Hell, better may be more than I can ever offer her, but it won’t stop me from trying. I’ve attempted to put up a wall between us, but I think it’s safe to say that’s not happening any longer. After tonight, my will towards having her is broken. I refuse to snuff out the strongest feeling for someone I’ve ever had before.

I’m extra quiet as I make my way into my room, silently cursing the bathroom door when it squeaks as I close it. I don’t want to wake her until I’m ready and all I need to do right now is wash and then look at her. Once I’ve looked my fill, then we’ll get to the touching part. God knows I want to hold her something fierce.

Ever since she showed up, it’s been one stressful day after the next, and for once, I feel like I’m able to climb into that bed and breathe a sigh of relief. The fact she’ll be beside me to hold is one hell of a bonus I’m not about to take for granted. I hated leaving her last night once she was asleep, but I had no choice. I knew if she discovered my plan, she’d never have let me leave without her and there was no way in hell she was going with us. My job is to keep her safe, not put her in the path of more danger and it’s one promise I’m taking seriously whether she likes it or not.

I can handle her anger, so long as she’s alive and breathing. I want her unharmed and giving me a piece of her mind. That I can deal with any day, over having to possibly bury her.

Tossing my boxers in my cheap, white, plastic clothes hamper, I hop in the shower and do a thorough job scrubbing down my skin. I even include using the small nail brush thingy to make sure every speck of blood has been cleansed and sanitized off my body. There’s no way I’m touching her sweetness with any of the cartel’s toxins, so I do another pass with my soap, cranking the water to the point it makes my body lock up from the scorching burn.

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