Malcolm (Henchmen MC Next Generation 2)

"I will. But if something is—"

I didn't let him finish.

I didn't have time to explain.

I had to get an injured woman her purse. I had to talk to the cops. And then I needed to figure out who the fuck did this to her. Because they weren't going to fucking get away with it.

I didn't know the woman. Not really. Maybe, rationally, I shouldn't have been having such a strong reaction over what had happened to her.

But if you were able to detach yourself from something as horrible as an innocent woman being beaten within an inch of her life just a couple yards from the workplace that should have been a safe haven for her, well, then you and I were different kinds of creatures. We had different sorts of moral compasses.

When a woman, even a stranger, cried in pain while you held her, waiting for the ambulance, you better fucking care. When you were there to witness the panic and relief move through her at the idea of being raped, you better fucking care.

And I did.

At the emergency room, though, all I was met with was protocols. I wasn't her family. I didn't get to go back and see her, sit with her, so she didn't have to be fucking alone.

They did take her purse to her, though, and I prayed she was able to call someone to come sit with her, hold her hand, tell her everything was going to be okay.

But an hour passed.

Then two.

And no one who walked in the doors went back into her room.

"Excuse me," I said to the nurse who'd been sending me pitying eyes as I paced and forced myself to sit down only to jump up and pace again since I first came in.

"Yes?"

"Can I please see her?"

To that, she pressed her lips together.

"You know, we could make exceptions for a boyfriend," she said, giving me raised brows, asking me to play along.

Right.

Okay.

Well, if that was the only way.

"Can I please see my girlfriend?" I asked, watching as she shot me a pleased smile before inviting me back.

"Holly, honey, your boyfriend would like to sit with you while you wait for testing," the nurse said as she opened the door.

"I don't have... oh," Holly said, looking over at me with a bloodshot eye, making my heart sink at the idea that she'd needed to sit in an emergency room bed and cry by herself. "Okay," she said, giving the nurse a nod as I moved inside.

"She told me it was the only way I could see you," I told her, tucking my hands into my pockets as I moved a couple feet into the space.

"You didn't have to stay. You've done enough for me."

"I wanted to," I told her.

"But your friends..."

"Have another ride home. You don't have anyone to come and be with you?" I asked, looking over to see her phone next to her on the bed.

"I, ah, I have a brother. But he can't come. It's okay. I'm okay."

"You're not," I corrected. "You don't have to pretend to be."

"If I stop pretending to be, I am going to fall apart," she admitted, her gaze dropping to the linoleum floor.

"So fall apart," I said, shrugging.

"No. I can't. I have to finish my testing. Then I need to get home. And... and then I need to get back to work tomorrow."

"You can't go back when you've been beaten like this."

"I don't have a choice," she admitted, back to studying the floor.

It was easy, at times, to forget how privileged I'd been. My parents had never struggled for money. And neither had I. Sure, I'd worked some crappy jobs in high school because my father told me it would build character. But I never needed that money. Then once I joined up with the club, money got even easier.

I'd never had to worry.

Many, if not most, people did.

Holly did.

I couldn't imagine working for two-something an hour plus unreliable tips gave you the kind of security that allowed you to take a few days off to heal after a brutal attack.

"I..."

"Don't," she cut me off, knowing what I was going to offer. "I've had a really, epically bad day," she said, and there were tears in her voice again. "I don't think I could handle my white knight trying to offer me charity on top of it all."

"I'm nobody's white knight, Holly," I told her, a little taken aback that she'd say something like that.

"Tonight, you were mine."

"Any decent person would have called the police for you. And sat with you until the paramedics came. I'm not special."

"Not everyone would come to the hospital and pretend to be my boyfriend so they could check on me. That's kind of special. At least it is to me right now," she said, trying to give me a wobbly smile even if there were tears still in her eyes.