Club Justice (27 page)

His head whipped up in hope at a touch on the shoulder, but it was just Bowie. Accepting a cup of coffee from the towering redhead, Zeke slumped back in his chair.

“She’s tough.”

“Not as tough as she would have people believe,” Zeke replied softly.

“We’ll get the son-of-a-bitch that did this,” Bowie said grimly. 

“It doesn’t erase what happened.”

“This isn’t her fault.”

Zeke’s eyes narrowed on his best friend.

“Is that what you think? You think I’m blaming her for this? This lands on me. It’s a man’s job to protect his family.”

Bowie closed his mouth, knowing that nothing he could say would ease Zeke’s mind. They both looked up as Murphy approached, waving the cops in his wake to wait.

“I know you have more important things on your mind right now, but you know as well as I do the sooner they get on this the better chance they have of finding out who did this. You should talk to them.”

Zeke shrugged in helpless frustration.

“There isn’t much I can tell them. I wasn’t there. We’re not going to know what happened until Gin can talk.”

“You know the drill. Humor them.”

Zeke’s broad shoulders slumped, but he nodded.

Her mouth was so dry. Trying to lick her lips, Ginny winced. Her jaw ached. She was going to have to tell Zeke she was getting too old for this marathon shit. She tried to force her eyes open and frowned. Bringing a hand up, she scrubbed it over her face before whimpering in pain. What the hell had happened? She tensed as someone took her other hand.

“It’s okay, baby. I’m right here.”

The terror eased slightly at Zeke’s reassuring baritone, but there was a tremor in her voice when she spoke.

“I can’t see.”  

“Everything’s going to be okay, baby. You have a broken nose and your eyes are swollen shut.”

“Oh,” she sighed, relief obvious, but her forehead scrunched as she tried to remember. “Did I piss you off?”

The little girl quiver in her voice tore at his heart and his voice cracked in reply.

“Jesus, Gin. No. It wasn’t me.”

The doctor came in then like a whirlwind in a white coat. Zeke eased back at his brisk movements, but couldn’t have let go of his wife’s hand if he had wanted to. Ginny’s grip tightened painfully at the interruption.

“How are you feeling, Virginia?”

The numbers on the monitor jumped.

“Who’s that?”

“I’m Dr. Evan’s. I’m glad you’re awake. What’s the last thing you remember, Virginia?”

“My name is Ginny.”

“My apologies, Ginny. Can you tell me what the last thing you remember is?”

“I’m thirsty.”

“Your husband has a glass of water there for you. Just take it slow.”

Her lips trembled as she wrapped them around the straw. She was in the hospital. How long had she been here? What the hell had happened? She shifted, her muscles feeling lax but the hint of pain floating on the edges. They had her drugged up. How bad was it?

“Do you know what day of the week it is, Ginny?”

“I don’t know how long I’ve been here,” she whispered uncertainly.

“What’s the last day you remember?”

“Sunday.”

“Okay. What did you do on Sunday?”

“We came back from the spa.”

“You said we. Can you tell me who was with you?”

“Kat, Amber, Lee, Tamara, and GG.”

“Were you all together?”

Ginny nodded, visibly searching her memory.

“We took Amber and Bowie’s Suburban and she dropped us all off at home.”

“What did you do when you got home?”

“I …” Ginny’s voice faltered and Zeke watched her face crumble as memories started flooding back. “Oh my God, Gunny.”

Tears leaked from the corners of her swollen eyes and a low sob broke. Zeke wanted to wrap her in his arms, but knew she needed to get this out.

“The bastard shot Gunny.”

“Did you see who shot your dog?”

Ginny’s head jerked at the new voice and her nails dug into Zeke’s hand.

“It’s okay. He’s a cop. They need to know what happened.”

“Who else is here?”

“Relax. It’s just the three of us. No one is going to hurt you.”

“Where are my boys?”

“They’re outside with half of Trinity.”

“I don’t want them to see me like this.”

Zeke nodded, forgetting she couldn’t see him.

“Please, Zeke!”

“Okay, Gin,” he promised, squeezing her hand at the rising hysteria in her tone.

Fresh sobs wracked her and she reached for him. Sitting down on the edge of the bed he held her awkwardly.

“Did you see who did this to you?” the detective asked.

Zeke shot the lawman a look of warning, but knew the man was just doing his job.

“I never saw his face,” Ginny sobbed into her husband’s shoulder.

“What happened, Gin? Talk to me, baby.”

“Gunny woke me up when he was coming through the door. I saw muzzle flash and Gunny yelped,” Ginny whispered brokenly. “Oh God, Zeke, his crying was so pitiful. It was dark. I reached for the Glock and something smashed against my temple. When I woke up I was blindfolded and my arms and legs were … I couldn’t move.”

Her words were slow, broken and garbled by grief, but Ginny recounted the details while her husband held her.  

“In all this time your attacker didn’t say anything?” 

“He said ‘The third time is a charm’ when he shoved that thing in me.”

“Not another word the entire time? He gave you no indication of why he was doing this to you?”

“No.”

Zeke shot the man a hard look, silently warning him against suggesting she had brought this brutality on herself.

“Do you have any idea what he meant by those words?”

Ginny hesitated and then shook her head.

“I don’t know.”

“But you have an idea, Mrs. Brawer. Any little thing could be the clue that helps us put this man away.”

Ginny burrowed deeper into Zeke’s embrace.

“Please, Mrs. Brawer. What did those words suggest to you?”

“That I was going to be raped this time,” she whispered.

Gorge rose in Zeke’s throat and he loosened his hold on his wife, preparing to make a dash for the nearest receptacle. Her fingers curled into his t-shirt, her wordless sob pleading with him. He forced himself to stay seated, pulling her closer. Rubbing slow circles on her back, his voice was a muted rumble of reassurance against her ear.

“I don’t follow.”

Zeke shook his head, wishing the skeletons of the past would stay buried.

“Ginny was nearly raped on two different occasions, both when she was younger. Once by her father and the second time … the second time by a former member of the motorcycle club. Both times she was able to fight them off.”

“Who would know this?”

“Trinity Falls is a small town. Secrets are few and far between.”

She looked lost and frail under the nightshift’s dim lights. Neither were words Zeke had ever used to describe his wife. He leaned back in the chair beside her bed. The nurse had tried to throw him out, but there had been no way in hell he was leaving her alone. Guilt gnawed at his gut. He should have been there. He didn’t need the harsh glare of fluorescents to see there wasn’t a square inch of her face and torso that wasn’t bruised. Every mark was burned on his soul.

He pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to think like a cop. That kind of damage was personal. For all of its brutality the attack had been planned, controlled. He had known when Ginny was alone, probably the layout of the house, and had been prepared for Gunny. Her injuries included cuts, mostly from a ring, a multitude of abrasions, a broken nose, three cracked ribs, a mid-grade concussion, and extensive vaginal tearing and bleeding. That said the attacker wanted to hurt Ginny physically, but specifically as a woman. All women were sensitive about their appearance, and there was no greater violation than rape.

The ring detail ate at his soul. Tyson wore rings. Ginny still carried a scar on her cheekbone in remembrance of their run in twenty years ago. Had the son-of-a-bitch come back to finish the job after all these years? He had left the barbeque shortly after his run in with Rhys. Did he have the Tarantula’s blessing in this? What kind of club accepted a man into their midst that had tried to rape a brother’s old lady?

Besides six little words, the bastard had resisted the urge to taunt her. From the beginning he had kept his identity concealed, meaning he had never intended to kill her. Why? Was the intent humiliation? Did he want to strike fear? By targeting Ginny, he struck at both of them. That muddied things a little. Was any of this about her or another shot at him to show he was vulnerable like the pointed arachnid infestation? Names, faces, and motives swirled through his head until it pounded.

A whimper yanked him from thought. Ginny thrashed in her sleep, the nest of blankets that had earlier been a comfort now wrapped around arms and legs adding to her panic. Plucking at the blankets to help free her, Zeke settled on the edge of the bed. She flinched away from him. Fear twisting her features, arms flying up to protect her face. Stroking her hair, he whispered,

“Shhh, Gin. I’m right here. No one’s going to hurt you.”

Her body slumped in relief and she rolled toward the sound of his voice, arms reaching blindly for him. Hugging his waist, her nails dug into his back as if she couldn’t get close enough. Pressing her battered face to his abs, she bawled. The muffled wails tore at his heart. The broken woman in his arms bore little resemblance to his badass bride. Would she ever be the same? Would she ever forgive him? Her strength had humbled him on more than one occasion. Gut twisting, he held her and prayed.

Chapter Thirty-Two

Fingers trailing over the dresser, her eyes avoided the attached mirror. The swelling had gone down enough to allow her to see, but the one glimpse of her face had turned her stomach. She fought back tears. The room felt wrong. Gone was the warmth, the sense of sanctuary her boudoir had always offered. Mindful of Zeke and the boys, their home’s décor had always given a nod to the masculine with hardwood and rich leathers taking center stage. Their bedroom was the one place she had truly given in to her feminine desires beyond a throw pillow or two.  Here, the bed’s coverlet and the ornate furniture in the sitting area had been done in rich chocolate and gold brocade. The small niche was her escape on the rare occasions the swagger and testosterone got to be too much. All of that, along with the massive bedroom set she and Zeke had scoured auctions for, was gone. 

A lump filled her throat. The bed and dresser from the guestroom looked small and out of place. She circled the bed slowly, her gate stiff and sore. Staring out the window, she felt out of place. This was her home. Would she ever feel safe here again? Shivering, she spun awkwardly away from the window. Hurrying down the hall she whistled for Gunny. She rounded the corner to the living room before she realized what she had done. Zeke was half out of his chair, worry evident in his blue eyes. The boys were staring at her. Gunny was gone and it was her fault. Her baby had given his life trying to protect her. Dying, he had still tried to get to her, clawing up on the bed only to have the bastard kick him off. His cries reverberated through her mind and she crumbled. 

Rocking against the pain, her sobs were silent. Zeke knelt beside her, crushing her to his chest and swaying with her. Shame and guilt pummeled her. She hid from her boys, trying desperately to pull herself together but the blows kept coming. Arms wrapped around her from behind and Garrett’s tears soaked the side of her neck.

“I’m so sorry, Mom. I should have been here.”

She shook her head, fighting to push words past the keening anguish clogging her throat. Rhys and Mox jostled the pile as they joined the huddle, arms outstretched and guilt in their hearts. Their misplaced remorse blew any chance she had of pulling it together and opened the floodgate of her tears. Soaking Zeke’s shirt she sobbed until she had no more to give. It was Zeke who moved them from the floor, picking her up and carrying her to his recliner where he cuddled her in his lap. The boys gathered around them, furtively wiping away tears. Taking a shuddering breath, she looked around at the handsome faces and was humbled by the love. Gathering her thoughts she struggled to find the words to clear the eggshells away and start them all on the path back to normalcy.

“This was my fault. I wasn’t careful enough.”

All four started to protest and she threw up a hand to stall their arguments.

“I don’t want to hear who thinks they should’ve been here. The cold hard truth is that I was here and I wasn’t careful enough. For all the times I’ve preached the safety guidelines of being a woman out alone at night, I got sloppy and complacent in my home. This is on me. I’m so sorry, and I miss Gunny more than I can…” she choked, blinking rapidly against another onslaught of waterworks. She looked helplessly up at Zeke, her face screwing up in pain as tears overflowed her hazel eyes. “He tried so hard.”

“It’s okay, baby. He loved you. He was doing his job.”

Clenching her eyes shut, she drew in a calming breath.

“I just want things to be normal, or as close to it as this family can handle. The last several months have been rocky, but bruises will heal, the restaurant is being rebuilt, and knowing Mox is ours is the best gift God could give us no matter how it happened.”

“It’s not just bruises. You were…”

“I know, baby. I know,” Ginny said, interrupting Rhys. She swallowed hard. “I’m going to have to work through that. I won’t lie to you and tell you I’m fine, but your dad is going to stick with me and I have you boys. A lot of women go through it alone.”

Zeke shot her an exasperated look and yanked her tighter to his chest.

“Of course I’m going to stick with you. Jesus, this isn’t your fault. I want to kill the bastard that hurt you, but I sure as hell don’t blame you.”  

Ginny winced at his crushing grip.

“Careful, big man, love hurts.”

“Shit. Sorry, baby.”

Ginny actually smiled at the sheepish expression on her husband’s face. Nuzzling under his chin, she looked at her boys.