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Whirling around to look at Ace, Tiffany demanded, “What was that all about?”
Ace huffed. “Who the hell knows. After the shit my brother pulled on her, she needs goddamn therapy, if you ask me. Of course no one ever asks me shit. Why in the hell do I feel like I could run circles around this building?”
“When the human body sustains serious damage, it releases adrenaline and endorphins to dull the pain and give the person the strength to fight or flee. It’ll wear off before long, and you better pray you’re in front of a doctor when it happens, because that’s when the pain kicks in full force.”
“Jesus, you sound like a walking medical encyclopedia.”
Their conversation was interrupted by several volunteers from the local ambulance service barreling through the door. After checking Ace over and hearing Tiffany’s rundown on what was beneath those bandages, they elected not to tear them off. Loading him carefully onto a stretcher, they eased him into the back of a waiting ambulance. It all happened so quickly, Tiffany didn’t have time to ask to go, leaving her behind with worry niggling at the back of her mind that the clamp would fail, and he’d bleed out if the EMS workers weren’t careful.
Watching the oversized vehicle kick up dust as it made its way up the long, dirt road, Tiffany wondered if they were taking him to a hospital or some local doctor. If he went to the hospital, law enforcement would automatically be called because it was a gunshot wound. She didn’t think the club would welcome getting questioned by the police. Private physicians were more discriminating, and the more rural ones usually only called if they suspected foul play. It didn’t really matter, though, since he hadn’t nicked the femoral artery. As long as he got treatment by an actual physician, she suspected he’d be just fine.
~ Tiffany ~
A shadow suddenly appeared beside hers on the pavement. “Did my brother shoot him?”
Tiffany’s mind raced with possibilities. Did the young woman want her abuser’s brother dead? Had Ace wronged her in some way? Why would she be insinuating herself into this particular situation?
Without looking at the teen, Tiffany asked quietly. “Did you want him to?”
Grabbing her arm, Rose forced her to make eye contact. “Are you crazy? Why would I want something like that?”
Tiffany didn’t respond immediately, deciding instead to give the girl a hot minute to calm down. Finally, Rose let go and let her hand drop to her side. Tiffany cleared her throat. “No, Ryder didn’t shoot him. Ace’s gun misfired when they were shooting targets out back.”
Rose blew out a relieved breath. Clearly, the young woman recognized shooting as a favored pastime among the MC brothers. Rather than commenting on the accident, Rose careened unexpectedly in a different conversational direction. “Ace didn’t do anything to me. Why does everyone keep treating him like he did?”
Chewing her lip, Tiffany paused to think of the best way to explain the situation to the angry young lady. “Ace looks a lot like his brother. I suppose, for some people, it’s a constant reminder of what his brother did to you.”
“It’s none of their business. Sometimes, I wish no one knew what happened to me. I hate the way they treat me like I’m made of glass and might break if they say the wrong thing. They treat Ace different, too, and they’re too ignorant to even know they’re doing it.”
“Maybe they know, and they just can’t help themselves,” Tiffany offered.
“Maybe people ought to keep their noses out of other people’s business.”
A sympathetic half-smile curved one side of Tiffany’s mouth—the only thing she had to offer. “If you need someone to talk to, I’m here for you.”
“What’s there to talk about? I got beaten up and raped by a crazy man. You think growing up around this place, I failed to notice how sometimes life is unfair and bad shit happens to good people? I put that situation behind me months ago.”
“Then why are you so angry?”
“‘Cause it’s really hard to keep it there when I get reminded every single time I look into someone’s face. Even badass bikers aren’t good at hiding their emotions when it comes to shit like this. It’s harder on them than me, ‘cause they think of themselves as protectors.”
Trying to understand, Tiffany murmured, “Naturally, they would want to protect you. You’re Ryder’s sister, and they care about you.”
“No, most of them really don’t. They’re not good at dealing with me ‘cause I’m a constant reminder of their failure to protect a brother’s family. Don’t you see, it’s their own failure that they can’t seem to get past.”
Surprise at the girl’s depth of insight filled her, and Tiffany said, “Are you sure you’re only sixteen? You seem older.” She held her breath for Rose’s reaction, hoping maybe humor would help them both navigate this really screwed-up conversation.
Rose cracked a smile. “You don’t treat me like I’m shattered.”
Grasping at the humor straw, Tiffany responded with a shrug of one shoulder. “I’ve been through rough times myself. Girls like us are fractured, not broken.”
Folding her arms over her chest, Rose gave her a full-on smile. “Leave it to a nurse to come up with a saying like that.”
Trying to smother a smile, Tiffany shook her head. “Women are a heck of a lot tougher than the men in our lives give us credit for. We keep families together, nurse our men when they’re down, and suffer the pain of childbirth. I’d like to see a man do all that and not have a total nervous breakdown in the process.”
Laughing, Rose agreed. “You’re right; women totally kick solid ass.”
“It’ll have to be our little secret though. Their fragile little male egos couldn’t handle knowing how superior we are.”
