I blinked, feeling confused for a second until the weight of his words sunk in. “You think I was raped,” I stated, and he flinched.
He nodded stiffly. “Baby—” His hand found mine. “Clark had cameras set up in the dining room.” His voice was soft but somehow laced with fury at the same time. It didn’t help that the way he was holding himself that it seemed if I tapped him he’d shatter.
“I know,” I responded.
He looked up, surprised. “You know?”
I nodded. “He told me on the first day. I told him my father wouldn’t do anything without proof of life and since he hadn’t posed me with a picture of the day’s newspaper I asked him how he was planning to do it. He pointed out the cameras,” I explained.
Brock shook his head, smiling despite himself. “Sometimes I forget just how sharp you really are, Sparky.” His expression turned somber again. I was getting whiplash from the changing of his emotions.
“We saw the footage,” he began and I nodded. “We saw the footage from two nights ago” he expanded, voice tight.
Dread washed over me. Duh. Of course. The entire slice Amy up stunt was done for the benefit of the cameras and for Rafe’s sick pleasure although I suspected that was just a bonus.
“You mean you saw Rafe go all Freddy Krueger on my pins?” I asked quietly.
I wasn’t ashamed; it’s not like it was my fault the crazy motherfucker decided to slice me up. No matter how Brock felt about me he was a protective guy. Seeing his ex-whatever I was get tortured must have been hard.
Brock’s jaw was hard. “No, the footage cut off after Clark ordered you to open your legs.” His voice way low, almost a snarl. “Then it cut to you being carried off with blood dripping down your thighs.”
The look in his eyes scared me for a moment. He looked like a wild animal ready to go on a killing spree. His eyes focused on me and they softened quickly. They were full of pity and regret. I opened my mouth to reassure him that I hadn’t been raped but the door opened before I could.
“Good to see you’re awake and looking a bit more rosy,” Hansen greeted as he approached my bedside.
I glanced at Brock’s stiff frame for a moment longer then turned my attention to Hansen. I didn’t recognize him, which wasn’t saying much considering I avoided the club like it was Barney’s on Black Friday. He was attractive, not that I was surprised; most of the guys in the club were. It was like there was an unspoken rule you must be cut and panty-droppingly attractive in order to join. Oh, and be a serious badass. This guy was all three. Tall and muscly? Check. Amazing bone structure complemented by a bald head? Check. Not many men could pull that off. A sense about the way he held himself that made you not want to meet him in dark alley? Check.
“Well, I think that’s thanks to my blood donor over here.” I gestured to Brock with my head, noticing he was dangerously still.
Hansen followed my gaze, frowning. “Yeah, well, I think it’s time to stop the transfusion, considering it’s highly unorthodox anyway.” He started to fiddle with the bag. “But considering you were dangerously low on blood and we didn’t have any blood bags lying around it was our only option. Brock would have attempted the procedure himself if I didn’t do it.” He smiled at me. Boy, what a smile.
Brock’s muscly arm grabbed onto Hansen’s equally impressive one. “She needs more,” he clipped, eyes on me.
Hansen glanced down at the hold Brock had on his arm. “Brother she’s good. If we take much more from you you’re the one that’s gonna need a transfusion.”
Brock glared at him. “I don’t give a fuck what I need. I care about what she needs.”
I felt a pang at that statement.
“You need to trust me when I tell you she’s good. She’s out of the woods—her body will take care of itself now.”
Brock paused, then let go of Hansen’s arm. “You’ll be fuckin’ sorry if you’re wrong.”
Hansen chuckled. “I’m never wrong.”
I shook myself out of the daze I had been in over Brock’s behavior. “As much as I would love to watch you guys increase your testosterone levels, I kind of want some answers,” I interrupted, feeling the eyes of two attractive men on me. If only this was a different situation that would be a good thing. I suspected I was far from looking my best though. Blood loss would do that to a girl. “Where are we?” I asked.
It looked like we were in a hospital room, or more like someone’s bedroom that had been turned into a makeshift hospital room. The bed was comfortable and had a warm quilt on in. Brock sat in a homey-looking armchair, and the walls were decorated with pictures and paintings. There were also cabinets filled with medical supplies.
“In the compound of the New Mexico chapter,” Brock answered, rubbing his arm where Hansen had just taken out the tube.
I winced slightly when he did the same to me. Brock’s eyes narrowed at this.
“You guys have a New Mexico chapter?” I asked, surprised.
I don’t know why I was surprised; I knew precious little about the club. Well, apart from what Garrett had found out all those months ago. My only connection was the fact my best friend happened to be married to the now president of the Sons of Templar MC. Oh yeah, and I was in love with the sergeant in arms.
“Yeah, Sparky, thought you would have known that. Thought you’d have the location of all the US chapters in your little file,” he replied lightly, reminding me of the first night we met.
I grinned . “It wasn’t the New Mexico chapter I was worried about.”
Hansen cleared his throat. “Now that we’ve got the most important thing out of the way, that is making sure you didn’t die from blood loss—” Brock growled but Hansen ignored this. I liked the guy already. “I want to give you a proper exam and check you are physically okay everywhere else.”