The worst of Ruger’s anger had cooled by the time he pulled into the yard at the clubhouse. Anger would do Krissi no good, and he knew it. First things first. Right now, she needed medical attention. After that, they could find out what they could about her relationship with her father. He hoped to God she was here trying to get away from him and his influence and not spying on them for him.

As far as he knew, the Demented Souls hadn’t done anything to draw his attention, other than avoid being indebted to him in anyway, but they weren’t alone in that. While most of the clubs for several states surrounding New Mexico owed them, a good twenty percent didn’t. The Souls had just made sure they stayed in the latter group. 

Ruger backed the bike into Tuck’s usual parking spot and killed the engine. He waited several seconds before realizing she wasn’t moving.

“Krissi?” he called softly.

“Yeah?”

“Something wrong?”

“I can’t move. I tried, but my legs won’t work.” She sounded defeated. It tore at his heart.

“All right.” He eased forward then climbed off the bike, careful not to kick her in the process. It wasn’t easy. Usually, you kick your leg over the back of the bike, and he couldn’t do that with her sitting there. Once he was off, he turned back to help her and saw the streaks in the dirt on her face from her tears. Anger shot through him again, but he pushed it back. “Which ribs hurt?” He looked down at her, unsure where to touch without hurting her more. He just wanted to make all her pain go away.

“This side.” She lightly rubbed one hand down her right side, over her lower ribs.

“Okay, let’s see if we can do this without hurting you more.” He bent down. “Can you put your arms around my neck?” She did as he asked but he saw the pain flash across her swollen face at the movement. He wrapped one arm around her back, just below her shoulders and gingerly lifted until he could get his other arm under her legs. He cradled her against his chest and carried her through the door that Jake had stepped out of when he’d heard the roar of the bike pulling in. The prospect held the door open and out of the way while Ruger carried Krissi in.

* * *

Ruger carrying her into the building hurt, and not just physically. Krissi hated that the first time he brought her to his clubhouse, where she would meet the rest of his brothers, she was so hurt she couldn’t walk. It stung her pride. He picked her up off the bike and she turned her face into his kutte. She’d be damned if she’d let anyone but him see how badly she really hurt or the tearstains she knew had to be on her face.

“Get Chris. Tell him bring his bag and meet us upstairs. We’ll be in my room.” Ruger’s voice rumbled through her, and his words made her panic just a bit. Up in his room? She turned away from his chest and looked around the room as he carried her across and toward a staircase.

“You don’t have to take me upstairs,” she said quickly, her voice strained. “We can do whatever it is down here.”

Ruger looked down at her, a frown creasing his forehead. “What? Why would you want to stay down here?”

“You don’t need to carry me up the stairs.” She paused, looking for a nicer way to say it, but couldn’t so she just spit it out. “I’m not small. You’ll hurt yourself carrying me up there.” Ruger rolled his eyes and continued to the stairs. With a sigh, she resigned herself to what she knew was coming and pushed her face back against his chest. She didn’t want to see it coming when it happened. His arms tightened slightly around her as he started to climb. She tensed, waiting, but it never came. He kept moving but stopped climbing. Had he reached the top? She lifted her head and looked around then up at Ruger. He wasn’t even breathing hard and didn’t say a word, just lifted one brow at her as he continued down the hall. He was about halfway down the hall when he stopped.

“Can you stand for a minute?”

“Of course. I’m not that hurt.”

Ruger didn’t say anything, but the look on his face said he wasn’t sure if he believed her. He set her on her feet anyway, keeping an arm around her back until he was sure her legs would hold. Then he dug a set of keys from his pocket and unlocked the door. Without giving her a chance to try to go in on her own, he picked her up again, swinging her effortlessly into his arms and carrying her inside. He set her gently on the bed then disappeared through another door. She heard water running for a few seconds then shut off before he reappeared. Krissi watched as he came over and sat on the edge of the bed, his forehead creased with a frown.

“We need to get some of this dirt off your face so we can see how bad the damage is.” He dabbed gently at her sore, aching face. She didn’t know what she looked like, but after the beating she’d taken, and rolling around on the filthy floor of that warehouse, it couldn’t be pretty. She felt like she was covered in dirt and grime from head to toe.

“Can’t I just take a shower?” She wanted to push his hand away but didn’t want to hurt his feelings. He was only trying to help.

“Not yet.” Ruger dabbed at her face again. “I want to have you looked at before I let you in the shower alone. I need to make sure you’re not more hurt than you realize.”

She frowned. “You have a doctor?”

“No, but we have someone with medical training. He can handle most of the shit we encounter or will find someone who can handle it if he can’t.”

Krissi thought about that for a minute while Ruger continued to try to clean her face without hurting her. “Aren’t you going to ask what happened?”

“I will.” Ruger pushed her hair away from her face and worked on getting another spot clean. “We’ll get to that. Right now, I want to get you taken care of.”

“You sent for me?” A man with at least some Asian blood appeared in the doorway. He was tall, wearing scrubs, and looked like he belonged in the emergency room rather than a motorcycle club hangout.

“Oh, good.” Ruger glanced at him then turned back to Krissi. “I need you to check her out. See how badly she’s hurt and let me know if she needs more attention than you can give her.” Ruger tilted Krissi’s head up until her eyes met his. “This is Chris. He’s good, and I trust him. He’s taken care of me in the past, and he’ll take good care of you, okay?”

She didn’t know what to say, so she nodded. Chris moved forward and set a big tackle box like case next to the bed. He flipped the locks open but didn’t open the top yet.

“Can you give me a little space, man?” Chris asked.

Krissi could tell he was trying to get Ruger to move away. Ruger frowned, moved around the bed, and climbed on until he sat on the other side of Krissi, letting the other man get close enough to check her out without leaving her side. Chris looked at her without touching her for a moment.

“Someone sure did a job on you, didn’t they?” Chris turned to the box he’d brought in, flipped it open, and pulled a pair of gloves from a box on the top. He slipped them on with practiced ease and turned back to her. “Okay, let me see.” He poked at her bruises and cleaned the cuts on her face with something that burned then used a small flashlight to check her teeth and inside her mouth for cuts. After a while, he sat back on his heels. “All right. So far so good, but it’s time to get rid of the shirt. Can you take it off over your head or do you want me to cut it off?”

Ruger growled behind her.

“Oh, knock it off. I know she’s yours just like you know I’m only doing my job. You sent for me. Suck it up or get lost.”

Krissi looked at Chris with wide eyes. If anyone had ever spoken to her father like that, they would have been staring at their still beating heart in his hand ten seconds later.

Behind her, Ruger muttered under his breath as he stood and went to the door.

“Insolent bastard.” Ruger closed the door and turned back to face them. “Cut it off. After you get done, she’s gonna shower and put on something clean anyway.”

Krissi started to protest the destruction of her clothes but stopped, realizing she’d never want to wear the shirt again. Chris pulled a pair of bandage scissors out of the box and used them to cut her shirt up the front. Working with swift but impersonal fingers, he peeled back the halves of her t-shirt and probed at the already purple bruises on her side.

“That hurt?” he asked when she flinched as he pressed into one particularly sore spot.

“A bit.”

“More than a bit, I’m sure.” Chris moved on and poked at her a little more. “Okay, pants next. Can you take them off or you want me to cut them?” She looked down at her pants for a second. Could she wear them again? They were some of her most comfortable and she didn’t want to have to buy more.

“Cut them,” Ruger said, his voice rough.

“But—” she started to protest, but he cut her off.

“I’ll buy you more. Just cut the damned jeans off.” Ruger turned his back to them as if he couldn’t stand watching the other man strip her. “You want a shirt to put on for now?”

She looked down at herself. “I’ll just get it dirty.”

“I don’t give a shit. Will a shirt make you feel better when those shorts come off?”

Chris froze, scissors poised, and looked up at her, waiting for her answer. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

“Yeah, something to cover up a little would be nice.”

“All right.” Ruger sounded relieved, as if he was glad he could do this small thing for her. He moved away, going to a nearby closet. Pulling a zip front hoodie from inside, he turned and brought it to her. After helping her get her arms in the sleeves, he zipped up the front. He sat in front of her until she looked up and met his gaze. “I know this isn’t easy for you, and I know I’ve not been making it any easier. I just hate that you’ve been hurt like this because of me.”

Krissi frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I’ll explain later. There’s a lot we’re going to need to talk about later, but right now my priority is making sure you’re okay and don’t need more medical attention. Tell me what you need, what you want, and I’ll get it for you.” Krissi stared at him for several seconds then leaned close and brushed a light kiss across his lips.

“What I could really use right now is a drink. A shot of tequila or two.” Ruger turned and looked at Chris as if asking permission.

“I can’t give her any pain meds. I’m not licensed for that. From what I’ve seen so far, there’s nothing that must be seen by a doctor. It looks like she’s got a couple of cracked ribs, though, and if you take her in, they’ll give her some meds. Don’t mix alcohol with pain meds, but if you’re not gonna take anything, a shot or two is okay, not more.” Chris gave him a stern look. Ruger moved out of the way, and Chris put his scissors to work on the thick cotton of her jeans, making one quick, ragged cut down each leg.

“Can you lie back so I can get a good look at this?”

She hesitated then lay back against the bed. Uncomfortable, she held out one hand toward Ruger. He took it without delay, and sat beside her, holding her hand in one of his while smoothing her hair away from her face with the other. She kept her gaze on Ruger at first, but as Chris prodded at a particularly tender spot, she closed her eyes and set her teeth to keep from crying out. With her eyes shut, she could focus on Ruger and almost forget that she was lying on the bed in panties that barely covered anything while a stranger ran his hands over her body. Sure, she knew he was just trying to help. That didn’t make it any less embarrassing.

After several excruciating minutes, Chris moved back and peeled his gloves off.

“Well, there doesn’t appear to be any permanent damage. She’s either got some severely bruised ribs or a couple cracked ones. The only way to know for sure is to x-ray them.”

“Is there any difference in the treatment for the two?” Ruger asked before she had a chance to.

“Not much. They might give you some pain meds if they’re cracked, might not.”

Ruger was silent a moment then touched the side of her face. “You want to go to the ER and get x-rayed? See if they give you something to help with the pain?” Krissi didn’t bother to open her eyes as she shook her head. She didn’t want to go anywhere. She didn’t want to explain how she’d gotten hurt, and she didn’t want to talk to the cops, who she knew the emergency staff people would call.

“I just want to take a shower and put on something clean.” She held on tight to his hand, not wanting to let him go any time soon. Ruger was her anchor at the moment. The touch of his hand in hers, the rough feel of his skin. She focused on these instead of the pain that echoed through her body when she was still and shot like lightning when she moved.