Trip's Retribution (Hell Raiders MC Book 3) (7 page)

Trip was able to get to the driver's door without being noticed. He simply stood, reached in the open window and grabbed the man's hair with his right hand to expose the throat and drew the blade deep and sure with the other. Hot blood soaked through his glove and that familiar metallic tang filled the air.

Chapter Ten

There were far worse things than seeing to the wounded Buffalo's needs, but at the moment, Tanya had a tough time remembering that fact. His injuries had gone putrid, obviously infected, and the stench made her gag every time she had to get near him. Fever raged through him, leaving his skin hot and dry to the touch, despite the constant shivers that wracked him.

Bushmaster kept him shot full of oxycodone to kill the pain, and the drug also kept him knocked out, thankfully. She could only imagine the kind of hell he would bring down on all the girls if he were awake.

The medic spent his time sprawled in a chair reading, or masturbating, or both. The sight of his dick and the way he constantly pulled at it made her half sick, too. His shirt and belly were crusted with dried jiz. No wonder he didn't bother the girls much. He liked his hand better, it seemed.

Tanya no longer questioned the need for handwashing. The answer was always the same gloves she took off the last time she had to do something for Buffalo. The things were disgusting with dried blood and other things she'd rather not think of, so she had to be careful putting them on or taking them off.

And then, to her horror, Bushmaster stood and announced he was going to bed, and left Buffalo's care to her, after warning her not to bother anyone else. She tried her best, but without knowing much about taking care of a sick person, she worried she should do more. Part of her wished for his death every time she looked at him, while the rest of her knew she would bear the blame if he died. No matter how much she did to try and take care of him, they would kill her if he died.

She attempted to drain his bladder yet again, but only a few drops of some dark, horrible-smelling fluid came through the catheter. If he didn't start getting better soon, or at least stop getting worse, she was pretty sure he would die. Unable to stand the smell, she decided to take the jug to empty and rinse it. It would be good to breathe air not tainted by the smell of death.

She ran headfirst into Freak at Buffalo's door and he had to catch her by the elbows to keep her from dumping the stuff in the jug all over him. "Good God, what is
that
?" He stepped back with a wince and covered his mouth and nose. "Smells like something fucking
dead
!"

Tanya stammered. "I-it's his piss." Her hand trembled as he took the jug from her and held it up to the light to inspect the contents.

The scowling VP grabbed her elbow and forced her back into Buffalo's room. "What the fuck did you do?"

Oh, God, they were going to blame her. The urge to run made her muscles vibrate, but there was nowhere to go. "O-only what Bushmaster said."

Freak took a deep breath and gagged. "Fuck. Okay. Tell me, exactly, from the moment you first came in here."

She spoke, trying to keep from stuttering, telling him every detail she could remember. Fear kept her voice soft, and she had to make an effort to speak loud enough to be heard. Her throat ached, but she pushed on.

He stayed silent, peering closely at Buffalo's injuries, then touched the man's head and hissed between his teeth. "How long has he been this hot?"

"H-he seemed hotter than he should be when I first came in, but a little while after we put in the catheter he started shaking and got hotter. He stopped shaking a few hours ago, and Bushmaster said that was good, the fever had broken."

"Find a blanket, sheet, anything, and go soak it in cold water and bring it back here." He fished out his cell phone while she searched and finally came up with a ratty old blanket. He nodded and gestured her to hurry as he dialed.

Fueled by fear, Tanya raced for the bar and shoved past the bar girl.

The other woman slapped at her. "What do you think you're doing, bitch? You know you're not supposed to be back here."

Ignoring her, Tanya headed straight for the big mop sink and dumped in the blanket. The woman's fist caught the side of her head and stunned her for a moment.

"What the fuck, bitch?" The bar girl shrieked and grabbed a handful of Tanya's hair to drag her backward.

Tanya clutched at the side of the sink with one hand and clawed at the other girl's fingers with the other. "Let go! It's for Buffalo!"

"What the fuck?" The bar girl flew off Tanya, and Freak stood there scowling. "Bitch, you pack your shit and get the fuck up outta here. I see you in the Saxons compound again, I'll kill you." He turned to Tanya. "Take the blanket, cover him with it, all over. We have to try and get his temp down."

Tanya followed orders without waiting to see what would happen to the other woman. Hopefully it was something bad. It might change the way she and the other girls were treated by the whores and old ladies.

In Buffalo's room, she spread the dripping wet blanket over him, trying to be careful of his wounds. They said people sometimes remembered things that happened while they were passed out. With her luck, he'd remember every bit of pain and blame it all on her, then when he healed he would make her pay for it ten times over.

Freak came back in. "I called an ambulance. Be lucky as fuck if he don't die anyway. You go out front and wait for them and bring them straight here. Don't give any details of what happened and don't say a word about how you're here. Anyone asks, you're just one of the women. Understood?"

She nodded and turned for the door.

"Hey." When she turned back, he continued. "You'll go in the ambulance with him. I'll follow."

She nodded again and hurried for the front door, her thoughts in a jumble of confusion and fear. Why would Freak want her to go to the hospital with the president? It made no sense. Always before, any contact she or the other girls had with outsiders had been strictly supervised. They were never left alone with anyone who wouldn't understand their situation there.

Before she arrived at any sort of understanding, the ambulance shrieked up to the gate and halted. The driver leaned on the horn and the prospect on duty took his time rolling the gate open, but finally, the vehicle squeezed through.

Two men in uniforms rushed out and grabbed bags of gear and rolled a gurney out. "Which way?"

Tanya turned to rush inside, leading them to Buffalo's room. Freak waited there and stepped aside to give the men access to the president.

One carefully drew the wet blanket back while the other checked pulse and blood pressure and started attaching stuff. The first stopped and stared for a moment. "What on earth happened to him?"

Freak sighed. "It's a long story. The short version is knife wounds, and someone tried to treat him at home."

The EMT rolled his eyes. "Okay. The ER doctors will need more details if possible." The two worked quickly and soon hefted Buffalo to the stretcher and rolled him out.

Freak followed. "She's riding with him and I'll meet you at the hospital."

Neither of the men replied, but the one who climbed in the back with Buffalo gestured for her to climb in and sit.

Tanya's head spun with movement of the ambulance. The small enclosed space filled quickly with the horrible smell of the wounds, making her stomach churn. She had no time to concentrate on anything other than keeping her seat and not puking.

The ride to the hospital took forever, but finally they arrived and the EMT practically pushed her out of the ambulance so they could unload Buffalo and wheel him into the ER. They rattled off information to the doctor or nurse or whatever who met them and helped push the gurney into a curtained off treatment room.

Freak ran in from a different direction only to stop when an orderly barred his way. Tanya wasn't sure what to do or where to go so she went to his side. Several people worked over Buffalo and others came running, crowding in and doing their parts too.

After a few minutes, a young-looking man in blue scrubs came over to them. "You came with him?"

Freak nodded. "Yeah, we did."

The man opened a chart. "I'm Doctor Thompson. Can you tell me what happened to him? And when?"

Freak sent a warning glance her way. "He was stabbed and cut during a fight. I think four days ago—no, five."

The doctor scribbled in his chart, brows raised. "And no one thought he might need medical attention?"

A heavy scowl crossed Freak's face. "Have you
seen
his dick? Of course we did. He refused to come in."

"Uh huh." More notes. "And who administered the care he received?"

"How should I know? Some buddy of his I'm sure." Freak shrugged and for the first time, Tanya noticed he wore a plain leather jacket instead of his Saxons cut.

"Does he have any family we could contact? Some medical decisions might need to be made and he's unconscious."

"I'm his step-brother, she's his girlfriend. He doesn't have any other family."

He closed the chart and for the first time, looked closely at Tanya, but directed his words to Freak. "Okay, if you'll just have a seat out in the waiting area, someone will come get you when we know more." Just like that, they were dismissed.

Once more at a loss, Tanya waited for direction from Freak. A burning awareness sat in her mind, throbbing and waiting for her to act. For the first time since the Saxons claimed her as their property, there were people around her. People who might even be willing to help her and the other girls. And her muscles refused to move away from Freak, refused to let her scream for help, refused to do anything other than act like everything was perfectly okay.

Freak took her arm and led her toward the waiting room, while her mind raced with the possibilities. "Don't even think it, bitch. I'll cut your throat before you get the words out." He grinned down at her. "And I'll cut the throats of anyone you happen to tell."

The threat came as no surprise. She and the other girls were told the same thing every time strangers came to the compound, even if they were other bikers. Calling for help wouldn't be tolerated. But the idea of him going after any innocent person who happened to figure things out, that was new. And it made her stomach roll with dread. She couldn't take the chance of anyone else being hurt.

So Tanya swallowed the half-born impulse to scream her head off, and just gave a soft nod when Freak offered her a drink from the machine they passed. He guided her to a pair of seats in a quieter corner where they could still see the TV, turned to a twenty-four hour news channel. She sat and waited and sipped her soda and tried to keep her mind off the help all around her.

Used to spending long hours alone with no distraction, all the activity in the waiting room quickly wore on Tanya's nerves. Even though things could get wild and loud at the club, she wasn't usually in the center of it, or at least not for long. Mostly she got to clean up after, since most of the brothers had grown bored with her after she stopped fighting the sexual abuse.

A child on the other side of the bank of chairs kept whining and the sound felt like nails on a chalkboard to her already frazzled nerves. She fidgeted, trying to find a more comfortable way to sit. Beside her, Freak finished his drink and stared at the TV, unmoving, unaffected by their surroundings.

After an eternity, an orderly came out and approached them. "You're with Mr. Rawlings?"

Tanya just blinked, but Freak stood. "Yeah?"

"If you would come with me, the doctor would like to speak with you."

Freak nodded and pulled her from her chair and they followed. The doctor who'd spoken with Freak earlier stood making notes at a counter by the nurse's station. "You're Mr. Rawlings' next of kin?"

"Yeah. He's not married and has no blood relatives."

The doctor made a face like he didn't really believe it, then smoothed his expression out. "I have to ask, why did you wait so long to get him help?"

"I hadn't seen him since right before he got into that fight, and went to check on him. Found him like that and called the ambulance." The way he sounded, Freak had plenty of experience with lies and half-truths. Technically, though, he hadn't seen Buffalo since right after the fight.

"And you don't know who tried to care for him?" The doctor looked pointedly at Tanya.

Panic surged into her chest. What could she say?

Freak squeezed her arm and took over. "No, we don't. Tanya was away a few days."

He put the chart down. "Well, here's what we have so far. The injury to his thigh might not have been quite so serious, but gangrene has set in. We're not sure the extent yet. As for the wound to his penis…" he paused and shook his head, "I've never seen anything like that. We have a urologist coming in to assess him further, but I can say it isn't good. We might have been able to repair the initial injury without lasting damage. Whoever took care of him didn't do him any favors. That tube they put in, I'm assuming as an attempt at a catheter, caused incredible damage to the urethra and actually perforated the bladder. In addition, he has a severe infection, and he was given large doses of a strong narcotic, probably in an attempt to control the pain, so we have all that to deal with, too. We're doing everything we can to get control of the infection now, and he's headed for surgery. The gangrenous tissue has to be removed from his leg, and the bladder and penis need to be repaired."

"How long until we know more?"