Page 54 of Porter (Dirty Misfits MC 2)
“Where are you going?” Raven asked in the background.
So, I interjected. “No, no, no. I’m at the hospital with them. What I need from you is to figure out what strip club Josie works at and figure out who the fuck did this to her.”
Brooks paused. “Wait, Little Jo’s a stripper?”
I snickered. “Yep. Times change, I guess. I know she works in town, but that’s all I know. We gotta figure out who did this to her, Brooks. She’s really bad off.”
“Do I even want to know how bad?”
“Dude, when I saw her? I blacked out. I’m surprised we got to the hospital, because I don’t even remember driving.”
“Fucking hell,” he hissed.
“Call Cole, or possibly Tanner, and figure it out before the police do. Don’t ask me why, I’ve just… got a really bad feeling about this.”
I heard ticking away on his end of the line before his voice reappeared. “Already shot Tanner a text. I told him to meet me at the clubhouse and we’d go from there. Any way we can narrow down the strip clubs in the area at all?”
I peered over at Josie and studied her as much as I could. Nurses and doctors were still in a frenzied state around her, and Astrid kept wiping away tears while she brushed her fingers through her best friend’s hair. The entire scene made me sick to my stomach, but I saw something that caught my eye.
An orange and yellow paper band wrapped around her wrist.
“She’s got one of those bands around her wrists. You know, the paper ones that clubs sometimes give you? It’s orange and yellow. I don’t know if that helps, but it might be something.”
Brooks paused. “Is there a pattern on the band? Or are the colors swirled together?”
I took a step toward them and squinted. “Pattern. It’s checkered.”
“I know exactly where that is,” he said without hesitation, “I’ll start there and call you as I find shit out.”
“Thanks, man. I’ll let Astrid know.”
“And Porter?”
I swallowed hard. “Yep?”
“Thank you for being there for them.”
I grinned. “I always will be. Now, let’s figure out who the fuck did this to her.”
I hung up the phone call and turned around to see two male nurses pivoting Josie’s hospital bed. And before I thought through my actions, I lunged at the moving bed and halted it with my own two hands. I glared at the men who stared me down, but it was Astrid who placed her soft hand on my forearm.
“They’ve got her on pain medication. She’s okay for now. Look down, she’s sleeping.”
I dropped my eyes to Josie’s face and I wanted to vomit. She was barely recognizable. I hadn’t seen the girl in ages, but damn it, no one deserved something like this. I drew in a deep breath and released the bed, watching as the two male nurses whisked her away.
Then, I wrapped my arm around Astrid’s waist and pulled her close.
“What the hell happened to her?” she asked breathlessly. “Just the other day, she was telling me how safe she felt in her club. How the owners really kept shit above board. What in the world happened?”
I shook my head. “I don’t know. But right now? We can’t take any chances.”
She looked up at me. “What do you mean?”
I peered down at her. “I mean, I’m not so sure that this was a random attack.”
Her eyes widened. “You think the Black Flags did this to her? Why? What gives you that impression?”
I shook my head slowly. “Just my gut.”
She laid her head against my chest. “I feel like we’re just sitting ducks here.”
I kissed the top of her head. “Because we are. Hospitals aren’t nearly as guarded as they need to be. And I think that when they’re done running their tests, we need to get her out of here and get her back to the clubhouse. Cole can clean her up the rest of the way, and once she’s gotten some sleep maybe she can shed some light on what happened.”
“I don’t know, Porter. I think she’s still better off here.”
I sighed. “Well, let’s just see what happens. Okay?”
The rest of the day dragged by, but the night was even longer. Astrid was slumped over in a chair while holding Josie’s hand and I was perched out the window, peering down into the darkness. It was odd that I hadn’t heard from Brooks yet, and I started to get worried. The doctors ran all sorts of tests and did all sorts of imaging, only to come back with the only piece of news that settled my gut:
Every injury Josie sustained was mostly topical.
She had a couple of fractured ribs, but they couldn’t do anything about that. Rest and sleep was the only treatment for something like that, and I wanted Josie at the clubhouse to recuperate. I wanted her under lock and key, safe from the world until we could track down and slaughter whoever the fuck thought they were big and bad enough to get away with beating up on a woman like that.
