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“Have you ever had that feeling you’re missing something?” Pat asked.
“Yeah.”
“Something doesn’t feel right.”
“The club? The kennel?”
“The shelter, the fighting ring, it just … it feels off, you know?”
Bull folded his arms and looked toward Pat. “In what way?”
“I can’t put my finger on it, and it pisses me off. I don’t even know what I’m looking for. I’ve been through a shit load of paperwork and some shit doesn’t make sense.”
“Like?”
“Like the fighting ring. George is … he was a lowlife, right. He liked fast cars, big money, and girls. That was his thing. For the most part, he was able to make it work and had been doing so for quite some time. He pinched from the shelter, but this was new.”
“You think someone else is calling the shots?” Bull asked.
“Don’t you think it stinks that William Ranford’s brother happened to be in the right place at the right time with George?” Pat asked.
Bull ran a finger across his cheek, not liking the feeling rushing over him. “You’re right. It doesn’t make any kind of sense.”
“None at all,” Pat said.
“Look into it. See what you can find. Alert the club to be on guard at all times. I want to know everything that’s going on all at once. They’re to go into town and let their presence be known. I don’t want anyone to think they can start shit and get away with it.”
“Got it.”
Pat left, and Bull picked up the glass of milk before heading into the living room.
“Is everything okay?” Maddie asked.
“It will be.” That wasn’t a lie.
Chapter Twelve
Weeks and months melded in together, and Maddie hated the long waits. The best news she had in months was the removal of her wrist cast. She picked up her crutches and began to move around the house, looking from room to room.
Bull had gone out.
She was stuck in his house. It was a really beautiful house, no denying it, but she was … bored. So bored. All the time.
She rubbed at her temple as she moved around the house, getting used to the crutches with every single passing day. Molly had told her with her wrist now recovered, she didn’t see a reason why she couldn’t return to work. Bull had refused.
Staying in his house all day, doing nothing, wasn’t fun.
Maddie lapped around his home, then went the other way, before moving in and out of each room. By the time she got to the kitchen, she was out of breath and perspiration dotted her brow, but it was the most exhilarating experience she had for a long time. “This is crazy.”
Perched on the edge of one of the kitchen stools, she groaned. “I’m so bored.”
She had never been this bored. This was one of the many reasons she volunteered. The loneliness killed her.
Grabbing her crutches, she got to her feet and made her way upstairs. She had stopped using the electronic chair, but Bull had kept it installed. She sat on her ass and moved up each step, taking her time.
When she got to the top step, she turned on her knees and crawled, taking her crutches with her. She moved slowly but with purpose until she got to her room. Lifting herself up, she entered her room and walked over to the bed then dropped down onto it.
The leg with the cast stood out like an eyesore. The once pristine white cast was covered in ink. The club had stopped by, each one taking turns to sign her cast. It was sweet of them. Unnecessary, but it had been fun. According to Rusty, it was a cast’s right of passage to be signed. He had thought way too long about it.
She traced her fingers across the ink.
Holding the crutches, she used them to stand up, then moved toward the mirror Bull had in the corner.
Every single day since she had moved in with him, Bull told her how beautiful she was. He told her how special he found her. The way he touched her set her on fire, and he knew what he was doing.
Maddie stared at her reflection, and her mother once again came to haunt her. The cruel words echoed through her mind, mocking her. She hated it. Hated this feeling. Tears filled her eyes as she looked at her reflection, and she didn’t know what she saw as she looked at herself, but it wasn’t a desirable woman.
For weeks, she’d been in sweatpants because of the cast.
Bull had torn the legs off several pairs in order for her to wear it. The edge of the leg had torn shreds of fabric.
She reached down and touched them, the tip of her finger tracing across the cast.
Due to the extent of the damage, the doctors had insisted on a full-leg cast. She hated it.
Never would a day go by that she didn’t remember the fear of being hit. The attack happened so fast, she didn’t get a chance to defend herself.
