Nasty Bastard (Grim Bastards MC Book 4) (7 page)

“Damn, Stone was a brother for a long fucking time. Looks like he could have lived better than this,” Hack says, as he creeps through the living room, looking behind curtains.

“What the fuck do you think you’re gonna find behind the curtains?” I ask with a shake of my head.

He looks toward me and smiles. “When I was a kid, I used to hide dime bags in the lining of my curtains. Mom never suspected a thing.”

A smile crosses my face as I say, “I used to pull out my drawers and hide my shit under them. Of course, my mom found out and threw a fucking fit.”

“Always hide shit out in the open. No one thinks to look there,” Hack says as he starts tossing the cushions.

I watch as he runs his knife through each one and pulls out the stuffing. Then he goes for the lining, finding nothing but wood and springs. I help him, as we flip it over. Again, not a damn thing. Not even the normal shit that somehow finds its way under the couch.

“You get the kitchen. I’ll keep looking in here,” I order, flipping over the coffee table.

As he walks away, I toss the end table and look underneath it. My eyes land on a coloring book, like I used to play with years ago. I even search the book, making sure there’s nothing hidden within its pages. With that done, my eyes search the room, making sure I didn’t miss anything. There’s nothing else but a picture of me and Gidget at prom hanging on the wall. Just seeing it sends a fist into my heart.

“You need to see this,” Hack calls from the kitchen.

I follow his voice and find him staring into the trash can. “Someone’s definitely been here, and they haven’t been gone long.”

Walking over to him, my eyes lock onto bread crust from a sandwich and crust from a pizza. Just by looking, I can tell they haven’t been laying around long. Reaching down, I rub my hand over the remnants of the sandwich and feel the softness of nearly fresh bread.

Hack motions to the counter, where a butter knife, still smeared with jelly, is sitting. I know in an instant, someone tried to clean up in a hurry, but they forgot to put it away. My hand goes directly to my mouth, letting my brother know to shut the fuck up, then I pull my piece. Hack follows suit then joins me as we make our way down the hall.

The first door we come to is a bathroom. It only takes a second to search, before we move on to a bedroom. As soon as we step inside, I can smell the scent of fresh blood and know we have found someone. Who, I don’t know.

I flip on the lights, make a quick sweep around the room, seeing nothing but a dresser and bed. Looking at Hack, I motion toward the bed. He moves to it, takes a quick glance underneath, and shakes his head. Knowing there’s only one place left, I walk to the closet. Stepping toward the side, I throw the door open and point my gun in the empty space.

A whimper brings my eyes down to the floor, and what I see has me dropping to my knees. There’s a woman there, somewhere beneath the blood and bruises. She’s small, fucking tiny. She’s wearing nothing but a bra and panties, both covered in the same blood that is covering her body. Her knees are pulled up to her chest, but her hands are behind her back. Her eyes are trained on the floor, but her body is filled with complete and utter horror.

“Please, don’t hurt him,” she whispers, as her body shakes in fear. “I’ll do whatever you want, just don’t hurt him.”

Before I can ask who, I see a small boy creep out from behind her. His hair is a mess, and he’s wearing pajamas covered in some type of cartoon character. Even in the dim light, I can see his body trembling just as much as hers.

His little voice trembles as he shouts, “Don’t hurt my Mommy.”

The woman lets out another whimper and looks up at me. When our eyes meet, my entire fucking world rocks. “Gidget. What the fuck happened to you, baby?”

She doesn’t answer. Instead, the little boy starts to beg. “Please, don’t hurt us.”

“I won’t,” I make him a vow and know I will die trying to keep it. “No one will ever hurt either one of you again.”

Gidget

I slowly open my eyes and wince at the pain that shoots through my head. My entire body is aching so bad that I can’t stop a moan from slipping past my lips. Forcing my eyes open, I blink a few times to clear my blurry vision. Even that small movement causes another wave of pain to crash into me.

My memories are a bit fuzzy; no matter how hard I try, I can’t seem to remember why I’m in so much pain. Hell, I’m not even sure where I’m at. The comfort under me lets me know that I am in a bed, but I have no idea whose bed. The smell of antiseptic tells me it’s not mine.

Suddenly, it all comes back: the divorce, moving back home, a stranger beating the hell out of me. I must be in the hospital. Instantly, my heart rate spikes up, and fear for my son rolls through my body. I have to find Parker, have to make sure he is okay.

Rolling slightly, I let out a whispered
fuck
along with a groan that I can’t hold back. Ignoring the pain, I attempt to push myself up. No matter how much it hurts, I have to check on Parker. Attempting to push myself up again, I fall back to the bed and lay there for a moment, trying to catch my breath. After only a few seconds, I steady my breathing, lift my head to look around, and try to figure out where I am.

It’s hard for me to see; I’m practically doing it with one eye. The other is obviously swollen shut. Not to mention, the dizziness that overtakes me just from holding my head up makes seeing anything nearly impossible. It takes a few minutes to focus, but I finally see dark paneled walls and a beat up dresser with a leather cut thrown over the top. Instantly, I know where I am and start to struggle.

How the hell did I get to the Grim Bastards clubhouse? No way, no fucking way. I may have come back to this shit hole town, but I’m not coming back to the club. That part of my life is over, and I don’t plan on ever revisiting it again. There is no way in hell I’ll let my son have anything to do with the Grim Bastards.

My heart continues to pound against my chest as I continue to scan the room. Finally turning my head to the right, I automatically jerk back from the sight in front of me. There is a chair pushed up to the side of the bed, and in it is a man. It’s a man I thought to never see again. It’s someone I never wanted to see again. Layton Roundtree.

He is leaning back in the chair, with his booted feet crossed and resting on the edge of the bed. His head is laid back against the back of the chair, and his eyes are closed. The soft movement of his chest, breathing in and out, lets me know he is asleep. My eyes lock on to his face, and the pain my body is feeling moves to my heart.

His beautiful dark brown hair is shorter now, not even an inch long. Even at that length, a few stray curls are peeking around his ears. Where he was once baby faced, his jaw is covered in scruff, proving he hasn’t shaved in days. He also now sports a goatee, the same shade as the hair on his head.

My eyes linger on the left side of his face, where a long jagged scar begins near the side of his nose, not far under his eye, and runs down the inside of his cheek, all the way down to the corner of his goatee. I can tell by looking at it that’s it’s not a new scar, and my mind comes up with a million different scenarios of how he received such a mark. My hand is aching to reach out and touch it and bring him some sort of comfort, but I hold back, not willing to show the man that broke my heart any compassion.

When I left for college, he had only a few tattoos. Now, both of his arms are full of colorful ink. There is even one tat circling his neck, but my vision is too blurry to make out what it is. Wanting to get a better view, I attempt to push myself up. The quick motion causes pain to shoot through my body.

“Son of a bitch,” I call out, fisting my hand.

The bed slightly shakes as Layton pulls his feet down and leans forward. “Don’t be moving, baby. It’s just gonna make you hurt worse.”

I want to scream at him, tell him to get the fuck away from me. Before I can say anything, he continues, “Your ribs are bruised up pretty damn bad, but Doc says they’re not broken. He put in five stitches above your eyebrow. There are a few other cuts, too, but they’re not so bad.”

I let the information make its way through my mind then ask, “Where is Parker? Is my son okay?”

Something flashes in his eyes, something that looks a hell of a lot like pain. “He’s fine. A few of the old ladies have him downstairs grabbing some lunch.”

“Lunch?” I ask, wondering how long I’ve been asleep. “I need to see him. He’ll be scared without me.”

Without waiting for a reply, I try to get up out of the bed again. Of course, it causes my pain to ratchet up a notch. The agony brings on a cold sweat, and I struggle to not pass out. Before I can toss my legs over the side of the bed, his large hands are gently pushing me back in place.

“The kid is fine. Brew and Boz’s old ladies are watching over him,” he says, as he sits back down in his seat. “I need to talk to you for a second, but then I’ll get him for you.”

There is no reason to talk to him, but I’m smart enough to know he isn’t gonna let me go until he gets what he wants from me. Right now, I’m willing to give him anything he wants if he’ll take me to my son. Laying my head back down on the pillow and taking a few calming breaths to clear the dizziness, I turn to look at him.

Blowing a breath out, my eyes focus on his. “I’ll give you five minutes, then I’m getting my son and getting the hell out of here.”

He blinks, as if shocked by my words, and says, “Fine. What were you doing at your dad’s house?”

“Didn’t Lettie tell you?” For some reason, I assumed she would tell the club Parker and I were moving in to Dad’s place, but I guess not.

He shakes his head. “She said she told you about Stone’s old lady leaving town, and that the house was empty if you wanted it, but she didn’t say anything about you coming back.”

“She called and told me Dad and Crank have been gone awhile, then again when Dad’s old lady left town. She said the house was just sitting empty. When my husband and I divorced, she said Parker and I should move in.”

He leans back in the chair and crosses his arms. “You finally kicked that dickhead to the curb? About damn time.”

“Layton,” I warn, anger filling my voice. “My life is none of your business.”

“My name is Smoke now. No one calls me Layton anymore,” he says, completely ignoring my anger.

I study his face, a face I haven’t seen in thirteen years, and realize that more than just his looks have changed. He doesn’t look or act like my Layton anymore. Smoke fits him to a tee.

My eyes lock onto his scar again, and I have to fight myself again to keep from reaching out and touching it. “What happened to you?”

He gets a hard look on his face, turning to hide his scar. “This is about you, not me. Now, tell me, what the fuck happened to you? Did your bastard ex do this to you?”

I shake my head, ignoring the pain. “It’s no concern of yours what has happened or will happen to me. You gave up the right to even ask a long damn time ago.”

I push through the pain, sit up, and scoot to the edge of the bed. After tossing my bare legs over the bed, I realize that I’m completely naked. “Where the hell are my clothes?”

“When I found you, you were just wearing a bra and panties. They were covered in blood, so Doc cut them off. Brew’s old lady tried to put a tee shirt on you, but you were moaning. Doc said it was better to leave you the way you were until you woke up.”

His words spark a memory of me getting out of bed and pulling off my blood covered clothes. The pain was so severe that I gave up and crawled back in bed, with only my panties and bra on.

Jerking the sheet up, I nearly fall off the bed. Smoke is quick to reach out and grab me, laying me back down. His hand brushes across my ribs, causing me to cry out in pain. He instantly lets me go and takes a step back, holding his hands up in front of him.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you, baby. I just didn’t want you to fall,” he apologizes, taking his seat again.

“My name is Gidget,” I say, clenching my teeth. “The right to call me baby is something else you gave away a long time ago.”

He simply nods, not saying a word. Still, I can see a hint of pain in his eyes. For some reason, I feel the need to apologize. “I know you didn’t mean to hurt me, but every inch of my body is covered in bruises.”

“I need you to tell me what happened, so I can take care of it,” he says, dropping his elbows to his knees and leaning forward. “Who did this to you, Gidget?”

“I don’t want you to take care of anything,” I reply, closing my eyes. “I just want to get my son and get the hell out of this town. I don’t belong here. Never should have come back.”

“Where are you planning to go?” he asks, anger lacing through his voice.

That’s a good question, something that I can’t answer right now. “That’s none of your business.”

“What if the fucker that did this finds you? What if he gets his hands on your son next time? Have you thought about that?”

He’s right. I don’t like to admit that, but he is. If they find me, there wouldn’t be anything I could do to protect Parker. I couldn’t even protect myself the first time. Now that I’m hurt, it will be even worse, but I don’t want to think about that right now.

“If I tell you what happened, will you take me to my son?” I open my eyes and plead with him. All I want right now is to make sure Parker is okay.

“No,” he says with a shake of my head. “But I will bring him to you. You’re in no shape to get out of the bed right now.”

I know he’s right, so I tell him what he needs to know. “All I know is a group of guys rode up to the house yesterday. They were on bikes but not wearing cuts.”

The chair scrapes against the floor as Smoke pushes himself closer to the bed. “What did they want?”

Just talking is taking all of my energy. “One of them started asking a bunch of questions. I didn’t have any answers for him. I tried telling him I just got into town, but he wouldn’t listen. When I couldn’t tell him what he wanted to know, he started hitting me.”

“What did they look like?” Smoke asks, then adds, “Anything that could help me find them, tell me about their bikes or anything.”