Saving Claire: A Chaos MC Novel Read online

  I get to work assessing the damage, thankful for my field medic training I got in the military and my time as an EMT. Aside from the black eye and split lip, she has a cut on the right side of her head, just below the hairline. Thankfully, it’s not too deep. I get to cleaning out the wound and placing a bandage over it.

  I reach down and gently tilt her head to the side by guiding her chin.

  Jesus Christ.

  My fingers trace along the bruises on her neck and I fucking see red. I picture someone strangling this angel and I want to punch something.

  Instead of putting my fist through the wall, I start to clean off her hands. There is dried blood caked under her fingernails, some of which are cracked. Whoever she carved up with her nails damn well deserved it. Her knuckles are raw and bloody as well, and that makes me really proud of her. My girl is a fighter.

  My girl. What the hell?

  Whatever, no time to dwell on that.

  I wash up her hands and wrap her knuckles. I carefully roll up the sleeves of her sweatshirt and freeze.

  What. The. Fuck.

  A half-inch thick band of raw skin circles both wrists. Those marks can only come from being tied up. They must hurt like a motherfucker. After cleaning them out as best I can, I gently rub ointment around her wrists and wrap them in gauze.

  “Who did this to you?” I whisper.

  I check and see if she’s wearing a shirt underneath the huge zip up hoodie she has on. I feel a little unsure about removing any clothing, but I have to see if there are any other major wounds on her.

  I know she’s out cold if she didn’t wake up when I worked on her wrists, but I still feel like I need her permission.

  “Hey, angel. I need to take off your sweatshirt to see where else you’re hurt. You’re safe with me, I just need to clean you up, ok?”

  I don’t know what the hell I was expecting, she just lies there, still unconscious.

  Carefully, I unzip the hoodie. The zipper gets caught on the shirt underneath and it rides up for a second while I work on getting the fabric out of the zipper. That’s when I see it. The edge of what is surely a huge ass bruise on her ribs.

  I lift her shirt up her left side to reveal a deep blue and purple bruise going up her entire rib cage, like she was kicked with steel toed boots. Again, I wonder who the fuck did this to her.

  I’m glad she’s passed out for this next part, because I have to push on her ribs and make sure they aren’t cracked. I hate the idea of hurting her in any way, but I need to know what I’m dealing with.

  “I’m so sorry, sweetheart, this is going to hurt.”

  I feel for her ribs where the bruise is the darkest and gently push to see if I can feel any cracks. A soft whimper falls from her lips and it just about breaks my fucking heart.

  “You’re ok. No broken ribs. That’s good. You’re doing a good job. I’m going to fix you right up, ok, beautiful?” She’s still out of it. “You’re safe now. Just get some rest.”

  I feel the need to keep reminding her she’s safe. I hate that she’s lived in fear for so long. Not anymore.

  Chapter 6

  Claire

  The barn door bursts open and two men come inside, slamming the door behind them.

  They grab me right where the rope wraps around my wrists. It digs in my skin and I cry out.

  “Don’t worry, doll. There’s plenty more where that came from.”

  Davis lifts me up and swings my arms over the hook so I’m hanging by my wrists. The other man is by the pully system. He starts turning a crank and I’m lifted up and up until just my toes touch the ground. My muscles are screeching and pulling painfully, each joint protesting against this unnatural position. But that’s nothing compared to my wrists. They are on fire and it’s all I can think about.

  That is, until Davis’ fist connects with my face.

  “You could have had a good life. I could have given you everything you ever wanted, you dumb cunt.”

  He rips off the duct tape, grabs my chin, and puts his lips on mine. His tongue slides in my mouth. Acting on pure instinct, I bite down. Hard.

  “FUCK!”

  I feel the back of his hand connect with my mouth and I taste blood.

  “Fucking bitch. You deserve everything I’m going to do to you.”

  He walks behind me towards the wall lined with farm tools. Stepping back around, I see he has a shovel in his hand. Standing just to my right, he bends his knees slightly like he he’s at the pitcher’s mound, ready to hit a baseball.

  He swings the shovel into my left side. Pain explodes in every part of my body. I feel it in my bones, my muscles, my brain. My heart thuds painfully in my chest and the air leaves my lungs completely. I gasp for breath, each intake bringing on a fresh wave of excruciating pain. I can’t even cry out; the noise gets trapped in my throat as I fight to pull oxygen into my lungs.

  My eyes snap open and I feel my heart banging against my ribcage.

  I try sitting up but I feel pain shooting through every nerve ending. I can’t even pinpoint what hurts, just pure pain pumping through my veins. A soft cry escapes my mouth without my permission.

  “Hey, you’re ok, angel. You’re safe.”

  That voice. I know I know that voice.

  I look around in an attempt to locate the source, but my neck feels swollen and stiff. Another cry falls from my mouth.

  “Don’t try and move, sweetheart. I’m right here.”

  I look up and see deep blue eyes shining down on me. They are kind and full of concern and some other emotion I can’t put a finger on. I can’t explain it, but I instantly feel comfortable around him. Like maybe I don’t have to fight anymore.

  I close my eyes and take as big of a breath as I can manage with the pain and pressure of my injuries. When I open my eyes again, he’s still there, standing over me, keeping watch. I take in his face, his strong jaw with a couple days’ worth of stubble, his straight nose, and the sandy, slightly curly brown hair that’s longer on top and buzzed on the sides.

  I let my eyes drift down to his body, his huge, muscular body with tattoos swirled up and down his arms and what I can see of his chest. He’s powerful and commanding; he could easily overtake me, but when I look back into his eyes, I don’t feel any fear. I know he wouldn’t use his power to harm me.

  I remember him from last night, or whenever it was, I fell into his arms. Literally. God, what an idiot. Not that I care what he thinks about me.

  He told me I was safe and even though it’s a foreign concept, I believe he really might try to keep me safe.

  “Can you tell me what happened, beautiful?”

  What happened. Scenes from last night flood my memory. Davis, the ropes, the hook, the shovel to my ribs, smashing the window, running into the woods for what felt like days and then finally stumbling upon a sketchy bar before collapsing into my handsome stranger’s arms.

  For a moment I forgot what I was doing. I was considering letting the gorgeous tattooed man take care of me, but that can’t happen. I have to leave. I have to get as far away as I can.

  Shit. My escape plan is worthless now. I have no money. I have nothing.

  My handsome stranger must have seen the panic in my eyes. He reaches down and cups my cheek, stroking the side of my face with his thumb. It’s the sweetest, most gentle gesture I think anyone has ever done for me.

  “You’re ok. Just breathe, angel. Look at me.”

  I do. I look into his calming ocean blue eyes and the racing thoughts retreat just a little bit.

  “Good, now breathe with me, ok? Deep breath in,” he inhales, “And back out,” he exhales. “You’re doing good. Just keep breathing. You’re safe here.”

  Safe. He keeps saying it, like he knows I don’t really believe it.

  After a few minutes of just breathing together, he removes his hand from my cheek. I immediately miss the warmth.

  He moves out of my sight and the panic starts to come back.

  What’s wron
g with me? I don’t need anyone, I escaped all on my own, so why now do I feel like I might fall apart if I lose sight of him?

  “I’m here,” he says. His voice is deep and velvety and washes over me like balm to all of my wounds.

  I hear him pull up a chair and sit down. Then I feel his hand gently take mine. It hurts – I feel the skin stretch over my sore knuckles, but I don’t care. I need him here, need to feel him.

  I must have winced, because he starts pulling his hand away.

  “Shit, sorry, beautiful. I know you’re in a lot of pain.”

  “No,” I finally manage to find my voice. I squeeze his hand with as much strength as I can muster, which admittedly, isn’t much at the moment. “Stay. Please.”

  “Of course. I’ve got you. I’m here, angel.”

  “Claire.”

  “What’s that?”

  “My name’s not angel. Or beautiful. Or sweetheart. It’s Claire.”

  Chapter 7

  Jax

  “My name’s not angel. Or beautiful. Or sweetheart. It’s Claire.”

  I have to grin at that.

  I love that she’s showing me a little of her feisty personality. I already knew she was a fighter from the look of her hands, but after such a traumatic event, people can change. I’m glad that she feels comfortable enough to let me see some of her sass.

  Last night was torture. I know it was a thousand times worse for her, but I was in agony just sitting by the bed all night while she had nightmare after nightmare. Each time she started to cry out or thrash I came over and rubbed her shoulders or tucked her hair behind her ear and told her she was safe. I may have kissed her forehead a time or two. It’s hard to say. My touch seemed to calm her down for a bit, until the next nightmare came.

  “Noted, angel. But I think I’ll stick to my nicknames for now.”

  She rewards me with a small smile and… is she blushing? God, she’s so beautiful. I aim to make her smile more. And maybe blush a little more too. I’m only human.

  “What’s your name,” she asks. “I’ve been calling you ‘my handsome stranger’ in my head.”

  As soon as the words come out of her mouth, her eyes go wide with embarrassment and she blushes even harder.

  I chuckle. “Angel, you can call me whatever you want. But most people call me Jax.”

  “Jax,” she repeats. I like my name on her tongue.

  As fucked up as it is, my cock likes it too.

  Down, boy.

  “Were you the one to fix me up last night?”

  I nod.

  “How bad is it,” she asks.

  “You took quite a beating, but you’ll heal. No broken bones, no internal bleeding, no concussions.”

  She nods as best as she can through the pain. Tears form in her eyes and threaten to roll down her cheeks. I reach out and catch one on my thumb. She closes her eyes when my skin touches hers and she leans into my hand.

  “You’re safe here. I won’t let anything happen to you,” I tell her.

  She opens her eyes and once again I’m gutted by her beauty and profound sadness. The moment is too intense. I feel the surge of protectiveness wash over me and I’m afraid I’m going to say something stupid like, “let me take you back to my house and wrap you up in blankets before tucking you into my arms so I can fight off all of your demons.”

  Instead, I say, “I’ll get you something to eat and some pain meds. I’ll be back.”

  ***

  I head out of the back room towards the kitchen where I know one of the girls will be making breakfast.

  “Jax, brother, you look like shit.”

  “Good morning to you too, Bear,” I say sarcastically. “How’s that bullet wound treating you? I should clean it out and get a new bandage on it sometime today.”

  “Whatever you say doc. I’m feeling good.”

  “Good to hear.”

  I grab a plate and pile on eggs, pancakes, and fruit. I’m not sure what Claire likes so I grab a bit of everything.

  “I didn’t think you were a big breakfast person,” Bear says from behind me.

  “Not for me.”

  “Oh ho ho, so you finally decided to break your dry spell,” River chuckles as he walks into the kitchen.

  He and Bear share an amused look and continue to laugh.

  I glare at them. Why is everyone so interested in my sex life lately? “No, it’s not like that. She came in here last night all beat to shit and needed a place to stay. She passed out but just woke up a few minutes ago.”

  “Shit,” River says, shaking his head in disgust.

  “What the hell happened? Do you need my help fucking up the bastard who did it to her,” Bear asks.

  This is why I love my club. We’re loyal to one another and if someone needs help, especially when it comes to protecting the people they love, we’re all in.

  The club has its hand in some illegal things to be sure, but we never touch women or children. Not even a strip club. And we don’t take kindly to anyone who treats women or children badly. It wouldn’t be the first time the Chaos clubhouse was used as a safe haven and helped out someone vulnerable until they are back on their feet.

  “I’m not sure what happened yet, I tried asking and she freaked out. It’s bad though.”

  “How bad are we talking?” River asks around a mouthful of eggs. Bear looks up and waits for my answer as well. Both are ready to attack whoever brought harm to Claire and I’m grateful for them.

  “Her wrists are all raw like she was tied up. She has nasty bruises on her neck from someone strangling her, a black eye, a split lip, and her left ribcage is bruised to shit.” Just saying it all out loud gets me all riled up again and I feel like smashing a few plates against the wall.

  “FUCK!” River spits out and slams his fist on the table. He hates this shit as much as I do. His dad was an abusive asshole and as soon as River was old enough to fight back, he sent his dad a message he’d never forget. “You find out what happened and let us know what we can do. She has our protection.”

  “Thank you, River. I gotta get her some food. I’ll report back in a few hours.”

  River nods. “Be careful, Jax. You can’t get too distracted right now. The club has its own drama to get through before you get caught up in a woman.”

  “That’s not what’s happening here. She needs help and we can provide it for her.”

  “Mmhmm,” he says with a knowing look. “I’m just saying… for both of your sakes. Be careful.”

  I nod and walk out of the kitchen and heading back to Claire’s room.

  Chapter 8

  Claire

  I struggle into a sitting position on the bed and wait while Jax gets some food.

  When’s the last time someone served me food?

  Stop. I can’t get used to this, it’s not like I’m going to be staying here more than a few hours. I just need to get a ride to the bus station and borrow money for a ticket. I’ll get his contact info and send him the money back when I get a job.

  My tummy does a little flip at the idea of getting his number, which is stupid because there’s no way in hell he finds me even remotely attractive. After collapsing into his arms and bleeding all over the place, I’m sure he just felt sorry for me. And then when I went and told him I’ve been calling him “my handsome stranger?” GOD. How embarrassing.

  That is literally the last thing I should be thinking about. I need to focus on getting as far away from here as possible.

  New plan. Come up with some story for Jax. The less he knows, the better. For both of us. Get him to agree to take me to the bus station and get me a ticket on the next bus out. Get his phone number. Pay him back.

  How? You have nothing. You’ll just be homeless and out on the street. Who is going to hire you? You don’t even have an ID. It doesn’t matter if you get Jax’s phone number because you don’t even have a phone, genius.

  FUCK.

  My downward spiral is interrupted by the smell of eggs an
d pancakes. Well, that and the 6’3 wall of tattoo chic muscle with blue eyes and a boyish grin.

  “Hey, beautiful. I hope you’re hungry!”

  Oh my god, he’s adorable. He looks so freaking excited about getting me food, and I gotta say, I like that in a man. Not that he’s my man. Shit.

  “Hey, buckaroo,” I deadpan.

  His grin turns into a full on smile and it’s absolutely stunning.

  “This is fun. I like playing this nickname game,” he says. “I have a feeling I’m going to win, sweetheart.”

  I roll my eyes but can’t hide the smile on my face.

  “Right, champ, what’d ya bring me?”

  “Pancakes, eggs, and fruit.” He gently sets the plate on my lap and falls into the chair next to the bed.

  “Thank you.”

  “Of course, angel. It’d be rude of me to have you spend the night and not at least get you breakfast in the morning.”

  He smiles and I know my cheeks are burning.

  I clear my throat. “What about you? Don’t you need breakfast too? Wait, don’t tell me. You’re one of those 6 raw eggs for breakfast before hitting the gym type people, aren’t you?”

  He grins again and I really have to stop making him do that because it’s super distracting from my plan of getting the hell out of here.

  “One, it’s sweet that you’re so concerned about my well-being, and two, I’m glad you noticed my muscles. I do like to spend time at the gym,” he winks. “But no, I don’t slam 6 raw eggs for breakfast. That’s just overkill. Two is plenty.”

  I roll my eyes at him and shovel a spoonful of egg into my mouth.

  “So, where am I,” I ask before taking another huge bite of eggs.

  “You’re at the Chaos MC clubhouse. We’re a motorcycle club.”

  “Oh. Cool, I think.” I don’t know anything about motorcycle clubs, so I don’t know if I should be weary of my current situation.

  It can’t be any worse than where you just came from.