Page 5 of Torch
“No, like they get that you probably don’t think I stabbed you, since I was unconscious and spray painted at the time.”
It came down to that, didn’t it? I knew it wasn’t him for that very reason. Would I have turned him away otherwise?
“Here,” Has said, shoving a beer in my direction. It wasn’t open already, and it was weird that I even checked that and took comfort in it.
“It’s safe, man. It’s just me, but I get it. This is a fucked up situation, not knowing who you can trust, and the sickening realisation that someone we consider family is out to get us.” Has looked morose as fuck, and shouldn’t he be feeling good what with his new old lady?
“You tatted Elise yet?”
Has smirked, shaking his head.
“We were going to get it done, but,” he sighed heavily, “truthfully we’re both feeling kinda exposed too. Like I’m sure I can trust Rocket, but I definitely don’t want him inking her. That means I have to do it, and that’s cool, but either way he’s gotta do me. I’m sure he didn’t do this to us, but that suspicion in the back of my mind is making me hold back.”
“This fucker’s gone after your old lady twice, man. That must eat you up.”
“Yeah, thanks. That’s really fucking helpful.”
I snorted, leaning back on my sofa and wincing, when something tweaked the healing wound on my back. I thought I was being careful, but it was easy to forget there were still wounds there, just taking a little longer to heal up than I wanted. I mean, I was a young healthy guy, so why the fuck did stab-wounds take so fucking long to close up?
“Sorry, man. Guess I just wanna share the misery right now, ya know?”
Has groaned, reaching up to drag the beanie off his head, rubbing a palm over the stubbly regrowth of his light hair.
“I know it’s not the same, but it took me fucking years to grow all that hair, my dreads were my identity, and they’re just gone. I feel like I’m looking at an overgrown baby when I look in the mirror now.”
“As opposed to what?”
“Kiss my ass. All I’m saying is, the sooner we find this fucker, the better. Our ladies need to be safe, and so do we.”
I hear that. I just wished I had a fucking lady of my own, but the sneaky little minx was playing so hard to get right now. I briefly wondered if I should get injured again, just to end up under her ‘care’ again for a while.
“I guess if I asked you to stab me, you’d say no, right?”
“What the fuck!”
Grace
Aweekhadpassedsince he’d been my patient, and I had to admit that I thought of him often. It wasn’t like I was pining for him, or anything that lame. It was just that he’d made my days feel fuller, and more vibrant, even if I’d spent so much of that time irritated by his behaviour, or at least feigning it.
I’d never admit it, but I’d actually driven around on that first day, between shifts, locating the biker clubhouse he’d told me he lived in. You couldn’t really see much, because of high walls surrounding the complex, and big solid metal gates, but I knew where it was now. There was a small fairly empty high street to one side of the biker complex, and a therapist situated in one of the units there.
A week later, I drove there again and parked up, walking the high street to check out the one business there. That wasn’t like I was loitering to see him, right? I was admiring an intriguing sign for a business, that’s all.
The sign above the door was beautifully designed, almost like it had been done by artists rather than sign-painters. I was probably doing them a disservice for thinking of it that way, but it was intricately painted, almost like a tattoo, and as I absorbed the words on the sign, I realised why. Phoenix Therapy, right beside the Phoenix MC complex. It had to be connected to the bikers, right?
“Hi, are you going in?” There was an actual biker standing behind me, as I gazed at the sign and blocked the door like a moron. I hadn’t seen this one at the hospital, but he smiled sweetly at me as he reached for the door, and gestured to me to step in first. What was I doing? I found myself following his gesture when I’d never meant to step inside the place at all. He had very short, buzzcut hair and pale eyes, and those eyes instantly moved past me like I didn’t exist, but landed on the beautiful redhead who emerged from the office.
“Hey babe, you’ve got a client waiting… is it client? Customer?Victim?”
They both laughed as she came over to us.
“Please ignore my inappropriate man. I’m Lissa. I’m afraid I didn’t see any appointments booked apart from his one this morning? Did you arrange an appointment?”
“Oh. No, sorry, I was just uh… looking, that’s all. You see non-bikers here too?”
The woman, Lissa, smiled and leaned up to kiss the biker, a brief touch of her lips before she eased back down, waving him past her.
“I’ll be there in a minute. Get settled, and wait for me?”
