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on… Well, I don’t know if that will be something more to haunt her. Blood on your hands, whether actually by your hands or not, still stays with you. Is she strong enough to carry that burden?  
    She still hasn’t attempted to adjust her clothing. Does she not realize she is exposed? I don’t dare touch her to fix it, though. Did I get here in time? My mind races. Fuck, how bad is it?  
    Making the call for back-up, my mind racing, I look over to see Tessie hasn’t moved. My shirt still sits in her open hands, her body still shivering uncontrollably.  
    “Tripp, problem at Ruthless. Shep fucked up Tessie bad. I need Doll and a female doctor to my place Now ! Get the boys to come handle Shep. I shot him, so we need clean up,” I quickly divulge.  
    “On it. I’ll send a crew and meet you at your house with Doll and Rex.”  
    “Not Rex. That fucker has played enough games with her. Where the hell is he tonight?”  
    “Shooter,” Tripp chastises.  
    “Not tonight, Tripp. Not fuckin’ tonight. She’s a mess. Let her make that call.”  
    “All right, brother, on my way.”  
     
     

 
     
     
     
    Claimed  
     
     
     
    Ugh. Ouch. Everything hurts. Every centimeter of my body is in pain. Slowly, I start to stretch, attempting to open my eyes. They are tight, though; they won’t open. Panic fills me as I reach up and touch my face.  
    Tentatively, I feel around to find my head wrapped in what feels like gauze and bandages on my left cheek. My mouth feels puffy, even on the inside. The taste of old blood mixes with my saliva as all my senses go into overdrive. My anxiety grows as my breathing becomes more erratic. Why does everything hurt?  
    “Breathe, baby. I need you to breathe.”  
    “Shooter?” I ask, recognizing his voice.  
    “Yeah, I’m right here.” His words are soft, somehow soothing as the fear continues to escalate.  
    “Shooter, where am I? What happened?”  
    “You’re at my house.”  
    “Wait, your house? Where is Axel?”  
    Oh, my goodness, was I in an accident in Shooter’s car? Is Axel okay? Is he worried about me? Does my mom know where I am? Has someone called her? Who would know to call her? She must be worried sick.  
    I am reaching around into thin air around me as I still can’t open my eyes. Large hands come around my wrists gently, pulling my hands down onto my stomach. I’m still lying flat in a bed.  
    “Axel is with your mom and your aunt. They know you’re okay,” he calmly answers me as he releases my wrists.  
    “Why am I here?” I question, needing to know what has happened.  
    As he sighs, a delicate, soft hand squeezes my right hand. Instinctively, I jump. How many people are here? I strain to hear more of what is around me. Aren’t your other instincts supposed to be more in tune when you lose your sight? Why can I not figure out what is going on? Damn it, I need answers.  
    “It’s me, Tessie. What do you remember?” Doll asks, as she starts to pull her hand out of mine. Knowing it is her, I squeeze, pulling her hand back into mine.  
    Think, Tessie . Last night or tonight—I don’t exactly know what time it is—I went to work. It was busy. Rex was there. He was being an ass. The bar closed.  
    The bar closed…  
    I suck in my breath, my body starting to shake uncontrollably as the memories invade. The smell. My God, the smell of that man: oil, cigarettes, whiskey, and leather.  
    Before I can react, the meager contents of my stomach cover my hands and the bed around me.  
    The bed shifts beside me as Doll pulls her hand away, undoubtedly to clean it.  
    I can’t stop trembling. He touched me. I hurt; oh, how I hurt. My breathing is coming in pants as the night floods my mind. Dirty. He was so dirty. I am so filthy. His hands, his mouth, his tongue—he was all over me. The dry heaves begin as I have nothing left to vomit, but I cannot control my stomach’s revolt.  
    “Doll, run a bath,” I hear Shooter say.