Blood of Cupids (12 page)

The door opened, and I ached for Ryan to step through. I
wanted to explain to him that I had nothing to do with the explosion, that I
had only come down to make sure he was safe.

But it wasn’t Ryan; it was my father. My eyes instantly
filled with tears. I forgot he would find out about this, that I wouldn’t be
able to keep my wrongdoings from him. I desperately feared his reaction, terrified
that he would force me to leave school, force me to work at his club so that he
could keep a constant eye over me.

His face melted from worried to a stagnant calm as our eyes
met. A small, forced smile hinted at his cheeks as he dropped to his knees,
taking my hand in his. I must have looked pretty beat up.

“I’m so sorry, Grace.”

He should have been sorry for what he did to the other club,
but this was all my doing. I’d found my way to
The Blood of Cupids MC.
I’d
made the stupid decision to watch Ryan’s match and then flee at the slightest
touch of fear, even though I knew there were armed guards awaiting an attack.
The fact that I was lying in a hospital bed with a hole in my arm was not his
fault. It was all mine.

“It wasn’t your fault. I did this.” I said sheepishly.

There was a crash against the window and the blinds shook.
Through the swinging shades I found a pair of piercing green eyes. Then they
were gone. But I knew those eyes; I had been pierced by their stare before.
Ryan was there, and Ryan must have been angry.

“What the fuck was that?” My father quickly rose to his
feet.

His two wingmen offered to check it out, but I begged them
to stay.

“I want to be with you guys, my family, right now.”

They were touched. They knew they were like brothers to me,
but I had become distant the past few weeks. I guess it’s always nice to be
reminded that you’re appreciated, and their matching dimples proved that fact.
Unfortunately, it was a bold-faced lie. While I could easily play the card that
their presence was comforting to me, truthfully, I just didn’t want them to
find Ryan.

The nurse went after him instead.

“Who’s this man who brought you in?”

“I really don’t know.” With my exhaustion, I knew my cheeks
wouldn’t blush. At least he’d have a hard time seeing through my lies.

“Was he one of
them
?” He stressed the word ‘them’. I
knew he was trying to keep business hidden on account of the doctor hovering
over our every word, but to an outsider, it must have seemed like a bad TV
show.

“Dad, I really don’t know. I hit my head on a rock, or
something, and passed out. I woke up in the hospital.”

“Why were you there?”

“You wouldn’t tell me what was going on. I wanted to make
sure you were safe.”

He shook his head at my reasoning. “That’s not your job.”

“Then whose is it?”

The doctor interrupted, clearly begging for an excuse to get
out of the room and away from our antics. “I’m sorry, I think this conversation
might be a tad too stressful, and you need some rest. We’re going to keep you
here for a little while longer to monitor you, but you’re fine to sleep. Let me
know if your headache worsens, or you have any double vision, you’re dizzy,
feeling numbness anywhere, or if your speech starts to slur.”

“That’s a lot to remember.”

“Just close your eyes.” He smiled down at me and left the
room.

My father surrendered, kissed my bandaged forehead, and
found his way to the corner chair. As the doctor ordered, I closed my eyes. I
was so tired.

I awoke what seemed like only seconds later to whispered
screams outside my door. The doctor had reappeared, tinkering with the machines
surrounding me.

“What’s going on?”

“Your father and his friends are speaking to the police.”

“The police? What? Why?”

“Grace, I have to report any and all gunshot wounds.”

I had completely forgot about that rule. I really wanted to
know what was happening, but the whispers were unclear through the closed door.
There was no way my father would implicate
The Blood of Cupids.
He would
want to settle this between the clubs. Police involvement was not going to be
good for either family.

The door swung open. “Good, you’re awake. Doc, I think we’re
ready to go.”

“Okay, I’ll have the discharge paperwork and a prescription
for antibiotics and pain medication at reception in just a few minutes. We have
a hospital retail pharmacy for your convenience. You can also make a follow up
appointment. Until then, I want you to keep this sling on. It’ll help with the
circulation in your arm. And Grace, make sure you come back here if you have any
of those symptoms we talked about earlier.”

“I will. Thanks.” He did remember that I wacked my brain
against my skull, right? Why was he trying to give me so many instructions?

The doctor suspiciously eyed my three guards, rubbed his
lips together, and sped out of the room. He must have had some interesting
thoughts about us. At least my dad didn’t threaten him…while I was awake, at
least.

“Let’s go grab some of your things and head home.”

“What things?”

“From your apartment.”

I knew he was going to do this. “No, Dad. I have class. I’m
not coming back home, I’m staying here.”

“Don’t start with me Grace. I’m your father; you do as I
say.”

I wanted to stick my tongue out at him. If he wanted to
treat me as if I was five, I would give it right back to him. Without a word, I
grabbed my blood-spattered clothes off the side table and stormed into the
bathroom. There was no way I was going back. I didn’t care what he said.  

* * *

Had we been a normal family, we would’ve fought the entire
way to my apartment, screaming at each other over the center console of the
car. But my family drives motorcycles, so I hopped in a cab. It was nice to
have a break, to clear my mind before the arguments began again.

They were standing outside as I pulled up. I calmly stepped out
onto the sidewalk and smiled.

“I’m going upstairs, and I’m going to stay upstairs.”

“Grace Brennan, you do as I say, or else.”

“Or else what, Dad? What can you do to me? I’m twenty-three
years old. I’m trying to make my own way in life. I can’t just run back to you
for protection every time something goes wrong.”

“You were fucking shot, Grace. By
them
. Do you think
they’re going to stop?”

“It was a misunderstanding.”

“A what? You don’t shoot someone over a misunderstanding,
Grace. You shoot to kill. They know who you are now. You can’t stay in Philly.”

“And you think I’m safer in Alexandria? You blew up their
clubhouse. There’s going to be a retaliation, and it will most likely not be at
my tiny Philadelphia apartment that no one knows about.”

The bickering came to a halt with my closing argument. He
sighed and ran his fingers through his hair, knowing I had won, yet again.

“Fine, but I’m sending someone to look after you.”

“Please Dad, I don’t want another prospect hanging around.”

“This I’m not budging on, Grace.”

He stepped closer and kissed my still bandaged forehead. I
had forgotten how ridiculous I must have looked standing on the curb; my
clothes drenched in my own dried blood, having a screaming match with a man
twice my size. Had anyone walked past and stared, I wouldn’t have noticed. My
sights were set on my goal of independence, and that was it.

I threw my un-slung arm around him and squeezed.

“I love you Dad.”

“I love you too, Gracie. I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you.”

My face squinted, and I felt the tears warm my eyes. I waved
goodbye to the guys and ran upstairs, pushing too easily through my door. Had
it been any other day, I would’ve noticed that it was unlocked. Then I may not
have been frozen in shock when I saw the inside of my apartment.

The couch cushions were strewn about, books were tossed
across the floor, the desk drawers were overturned and searched, and Ryan was
standing in front of me, his arms folded over his pumped chest.

I sunk to my knees.

When would this day end?   

“Can we please not do this now?” She sighed, clearly
exhausted.

To think she had the nerve to request that of me? I shook my
head in disgust. “Get yourself cleaned up. I’ll be right out here.”

I was trying to be stern, trying to show her how angry I
was, but I desperately wanted to hold her. The poor thing looked absolutely
pathetic. She had a giant bandage across the left side of her forehead, a dark
blue sling holding up her left arm, and her button up shirt was blood-soaked
and ruined. Her skirt, the same skirt she’d worn during our make-out session
just downstairs, was luckily dark enough to hide any of the night’s disasters.
That was good. I really liked that skirt; I wanted to see that skirt on her
again.

“Here, let me help you.” I wasn’t cruel, and I honestly
didn’t know if she was capable of standing up on her own. I knelt down to her
level and my hand grazed her knee in the process. A sensation breezed through
me, and a part of me fought the desire to push her to the floor and have my way
with her, even in her broken state. But the other part of me wanted to cry. Had
she never met me, had I never forced myself on her, she would’ve been safe from
all of this.

“Thank you.” She cried, while wrapping her good arm around
my shoulder. I stood, carrying all her weight with me. My hand splayed across
her back and instinctually brought her closer. She buried her face into my
chest and suddenly wept. My eyes closed, and my head bowed in reply.

“Are you okay?” I whispered. It was a stupid question. Of course
she wasn’t okay, but I didn’t know what else to say. What are you supposed to
say to someone who had a night such as she just had?

“Yes.” she choked out, but her sobs turned to laughter at
the ridiculousness of it all. “No. No, I’m not okay. And I feel so dirty.”

“Do you want to take a shower?” Where was I coming up with
these questions?

Her shoulders bounced. I had no idea if it was laughter or
cries. “I don’t think I can. This thing fucking hurts.”

That caused me to laugh. She really was pathetic, but I was
just as so, for my only want was to take care of her. Right now she didn’t seem
vindictive. She didn’t have an agenda, and she wasn’t a Brennan. She was my
Grace, and she was hurt.   

I pulled away, looking into her begging blue eyes. “Do you
want me to help you?”

She stared at me, not sure how to respond. “You’d do that?
But you’re so mad at me.”

It took every inch of sanity not to lash out at her, but I
was oddly calm with my follow-up. “How about for tonight, we’re two rational,
boring people who just happened to meet at a bar a week ago, and we hit it
off?”

“Okay. I’d really like that, but you should know—”

I cut her off. “No. Grace, I don’t want to know anything
right now.”

It was silly, childish even, but for a few moments, I wanted
to pretend that what we had was real. I wanted my dreams of meeting someone who
knew nothing at all about the club life to be a tangible possibility. At least
for a short time, that’s exactly what I had. It was amazing.

“Are you okay to walk, or do you want me to carry you?”

“I’m not an invalid.” She shot back at me.

“Eh…” I teased, looking her up and down.

“I still have one good arm to punch you with.”

We both laughed, and I scooped her up anyway, careful to
stay away from her wounded arm. I stepped into the bathroom and sat her down on
the edge of the tub. I slowly maneuvered her arm in a way that would make it
easier to remove her sling. She winced, but assured me that she was okay. I
moved my hands up to her blood red collar, realizing that I was about to undress
her. I felt my heart begin to race as I painstakingly released the top button.

My hands were sweating. Why was I so attracted to her? Why
was this so difficult?

“Ryan, are you okay?”

“Well, I’m about to undress a woman I don’t plan on sleeping
with. How do you think I feel?”

“You know, things don’t always go according to plan.”

Was she teasing me? What the hell?

“Oh, really?”

“But seriously, if this is too much for you…”

“No, Grace, I’m fine.”

I continued with her buttons, revealing her nakedness
beneath. She must have decided to forgo a bra given her discomfort, but it took
me a second to recover from the shock of her bare breasts before me.

I looked away, turning on the water to test the temperature.

“Bath?”

“I think so. If I get the bandages wet, I have to redress
them. Gross.”

She stood, and I finished peeling her clothes from her
bruised body. I lightly ran my fingers along the blotched skin atop her ribs.

“Grace.”

“I’m really okay. I’m pale, so I bruise easily.”

“You’re not okay. You have a bullet hole in your arm.”

Her nostrils flared, and she looked at the ceiling,
presumably demanding her tears to retract.

“Yeah, I guess it’s been a big day for me.” She joked, but
there was more there, hiding behind her mask.

“Here you are.” I offered my arm, guiding her into the warm
water. She sat, curling her legs into her chest and staring up at me.

“Are you hiding from me? You know I’ve seen all this, right?
You can cover as much as you want, but my memory is solid.”

Her smile grew, and her eyes melted my insides. She was so
beautiful. How was she Patrick Brennan’s daughter?

I grabbed the giant sponge from its perch and lathered it
with soap. It was coconut, and it was intoxicating. If I were to never see her
again following this rendezvous, maybe I would steal her body wash.

It was probably the most intimate thing I had ever done,
washing another person. You don’t spend much time truly appreciating the human
form when you’re consumed by lust. This was so different. Of course I wanted
her, I wanted all of her, but there was something else. It was a connection I
hadn’t felt before. I now know the shape of her body better than I know my own.
Each push, each pull of the sponge taught me something new. And I was cautious,
learning her pain. We said nothing to each other, at least with words. When it
was over, I felt a pang of disappointment. I took care in drying her off with
her towel and wrapping her in its warmth.

She stepped out of the tub, drying her feet on the mat.

“I’m going to throw on some clothes, and then we’ll talk.”

“Don’t. Stay like this.” I pleaded. I didn’t want this to
end.

“Ryan,” she raised her able hand to my face, “we’re about to
have probably the most difficult conversation I could ever imagine. Please let
me put on some clothes so I can put a shred of armor over my vulnerability.”

She was so sexy, even covered in bruises and bandages. I
loved the way she spoke. There was a rhythm. It was poetic, almost. I nodded,
and offered to help. I slid a pair of loose shorts over her long legs and pulled
a giant t-shirt over her head, guiding her arm through the sleeve and back into
the sling.

Before I could look up, her lips were on mine, and her
fingers tickled my jawline at their touch. At no point did I want to pull away,
no matter how much I’d love to say that I was able to overcome my desire for
her. As all things do, our kiss ended. She took a step back and allowed me to
catch my breath.

“Time to talk?” I asked.

“Yes, it’s time to talk. Do you want to sit down?”

“Sure.”

We moved to the edge of her bed and each lowered to the
mattress. Grace immediately bounced back up to her feet.

“What the hell did you do to my apartment, Ryan?”