Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 76656 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76656 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
“Why not? A man who strangles a woman could beat the shit out of her too.”
“Yeah, but Perish worked him over pretty hard. I think he might have even bruised some ribs. Even drunk, I don’t think he could have had the strength to hurt her. How is she?” he asked.
“I don’t know. They won’t let me see her. I’m not family. Does she have any family?” I asked.
Russ and the other guy shared a look.
“No. Not since a few years past,” Russ supplied.
“So there’s no one who can claim to be next of kin and see her?” I asked.
“I could pretend to be,” Russ offered.
There was a loud crash from somewhere inside, making Russ stiffen.
“Seems like you’re needed here,” I said, seeing how torn he was in that moment. “If you can fake being a relative, guess I could too.”
“Here,” Russ said, reaching into his pocket for a wallet, producing a card. “This is the number for the house. Someone will pick up. As soon as you know something, can you call and update us?”
I took the card.
“Sure,” I said, tucking it into my pocket.
“Hey,” Russ called after starting away.
“Yeah?”
“Tell her we are thinking about her, okay?”
To that, I nodded.
“Young man,” the old guy called when Russ was gone and I started to move through the house.
“Yeah?”
“If you find out who did it, and you don’t want to take care of it, well, I used to do my fair share of… handling things in the war,” he said, pointing to his hat. “Give me a name and I’ll handle it.”
To that, I nodded, then made my way out.
I did stop in to the closest bar, but the guy, Doug, was passed out in a back booth, too rough and too wasted to have done the kind of damage I’d seen on the girl.
“Voss?” Seth’s voice answered, sounding surprised. And why wouldn’t he? I never called anyone.
“I give you an address, can you come get a car and fix it?”
“What’s wrong with it?” he asked.
“Dunno. It’s not working, though. And it needs to be.”
“Ah, yeah, sure. I guess,” he said. “Now?” he asked.
“Would like it fixed sometime tomorrow,” I told him, figuring that was the earliest Sylvie would be released.
“Ah, sure, man,” Seth said, sounding no less confused. “Is something going on?” he asked.
“Not with the club,” I said, then rattled off the address to the single car parked on the road, one with several to-go coffees on the floorboard of the passenger seat, a sweater in the backseat, a makeup bag, and a pile of fliers for the sober house.
With that, knowing the guys were going to have endless fucking questions for me when I eventually got back to the clubhouse, I got on my bike and turned in the direction of the hospital once again.
The woman at the desk from before must have been on a break because it was nowhere near shift change. But I was glad to be dealing with someone who hadn’t seen me before as I walked up to ask about Sylvie Sullivan.
“Are you related?” she asked.
“I’m her cousin,” I lied. “Only kin,” I added.
“Oh,” she said, hemming it for a second. Cousins weren’t exactly immediate family, but if it was all you got, could she really turn someone away? “Okay. Well, she’s conscious. I think she just got back from the CAT scan,” she said. “Do you want to go and see her?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay. She’s in room three,” she said, waving behind her.
I didn’t stop to wait for her to change her mind, just mumbled my thanks, then made my way in that direction.
The door was closed, so I knocked my knuckles on it for a second before moving inside.
Then there she was. Looking even fucking smaller on that hospital stretcher that seemed to have way too much room on all sides of her.
Gone were the clothes she’d come in wearing. They were probably in some cop’s evidence bag right about then.
The white and light blue of the hospital gown, though, made her bruises and blood look even more stark.
One eye was swollen shut. The other sported a nasty black eye that was likely only going to set in and look worse over the next few hours. The white part of that eye was all red from trauma as well, and there was a nasty cut down from her temple that got dangerously close to said eye, all sutured up already.
Her lip was swollen, bruised, and split.
The swelling had completely distorted her pretty face.
But, for the first time, I could see what color her eyes were when she looked over at me with the one halfway good one.
Hazel.
A striking green-brown that likely shifted around depending on what she was wearing and what kind of light she was in.
“You,” she gasped, stiffening, then wincing when the movement made something hurt.