fourteen: in which she'd like to keep her fingers, thank you very much

A/N: Can I just say how I have the most awesome fans on God's green earth? Your messages for me to get better worked better than any medicine out there. I love you guys. *end of mushiness*

"Nothing's ever what we expect" -Robin Schulz & Jasmine Thompson, Sun Goes Down

********************************

It was my final day at work this week - Sunday - and I was completely worn out. I checked my wristwatch every few minutes and it felt like time was standing still, the unmoving hands of the clock taunting me.

Sundays were the worst. Relief and respite were so close, and yet so far away. Then there were patients' families, who seemed to only really find time to visit their loved ones on the Lord's day. A daughter who hadn't bothered to see her mother in months would show up suddenly, raising hell because of a stain on a bed sheet. Those were the worst family members; the ones that rarely saw their elderly, and complained nonstop when they did.

I could deal with them but, for the most part, didn't have to.

I was sitting with Mrs. Santorini, a bedridden patient of mine with severe Alzheimer's and no family members who visited. She lay in bed a lot of the time unless we moved her onto the couch, and her russet-brown eyes were always wide open but vacant. I still wanted to believe that she knew that I was there, that she could tell that I'd combed her wavy salt-and-pepper hair this morning and braided it into a side-braid for her.

I talked to her a lot, even though she never responded. Today was no different. She had a private room - paid for by family members who threw money at her to quell their guilty conscience - that I kept airy and full of pink bougainvilleas. I talked about everything and nothing with Mrs. Santorini. Of course, Jake came up in my monologue.

"You know what's really sick and disturbing, Mrs. S? I'd just started thinking about him like an annoying older brother before...we, you know," I ended out of respect to the older lady. I strongly doubted she wanted to hear the gory details. "So what does that make me? Incestuous? God, I don't even want to think about that right now."

Mrs. Santorini simply stared ahead, the fingers of her right hand curling even more.

"I don't know why I waited so long to have sex, to be honest," I said, absently massaging Mrs. Santorini's hand to get the circulation going. "My aunt used to tell my cousin and me that she could try to dissuade us from premarital sex until she turned Caucasian in the face, but that she was realistic and could only tell us to be safe. I guess I just didn't want to be like everyone else and sleep with the first boy to wink at me."

I decided to be quiet right then. There was only so much of my five-second sex life that I could torture this woman with. And because the room was so silent, I heard the door creak open and my eyes swiveled up to look into the greenest eyes I'd ever seen. My mouth went dry and fear sent a spidery feeling down my spine. I moved to get up.

James - or was it David? - McNally held a hand up to stop me. "Oh, don't get up on my account, Miss Fenton," he said, gently closing the door behind him.

I remained in my seat, which was becoming more uncomfortable by the second. The McNally Brother was dressed in an expensive-looking pinstriped suit but he might as well have been wearing a bloodstained T-shirt that had 'I'm Here to Kill You' printed across the front in ominous red. His hair was thick and tousled; his shoulders broad. If Chris Hemsworth were a ginger and a bit wider, this McNally brother would be him.

"What are you doing here?" I forced the words out my throat, astonished that I could sound like my normal self in this moment.

"Why, I'm visiting my dear, dear grandmother," he said with a wide smile, but his eyes were cold. Empty.

"You and I both know that you're not related to this woman."

"Well, she's somebody's grandmother. I'm purely standing in as grandson." He came to stand at the other side of the bed and placed the single rose he was holding on the bedside table. He looked her over. "What's wrong with her?"

"Nothing's wrong with her," I snapped, and his jade-green eyes narrowed.

"Ah, I think I see what my grandmother's problem is," McNally murmured, stroking Mrs. Santorini's hair with one big scarred hand. "Someone has snapped her thin little neck."

My blood ran cold. McNally's fingers lightly danced across Mrs. Santorini's exposed throat, tracing the outline of her windpipe.

"It's a good thing that someone put her out of her misery, don't you think, Miss Fenton?" McNally went on. "She's in a better place now. I only wish she hadn't had the life choked out of her to get there."

"Stop it," I whispered. I cleared my throat, wanting to speak louder. "What do you want? Tell me so that you can go."

"Where is your boyfriend?"

"Sebastian and I are no longer together," I told him, slowly getting to my feet. "We weren't together when you trashed my apartment and we're certainly not together right now. I have no idea where he is."

McNally eyed me carefully, not saying a word. He stuck his hands into the pockets of his pants. "I've never been to your apartment, Miss Fenton, but if you know what's good for you, you'll get in touch with that sneaky sonofabitch you call Sebastian and get him to return every last dime of my fuсking money before I kill one geriatric after the other and finish by slitting your long elegant neck."

I said a mental prayer for courage before saying, "So help me, if you hurt one of these innocent people..."

"Get me my money and I won't have to."

I made a quick decision. "How much did he steal from you? I'll pay it back myself."

He let out a short bark of laughter. "You got ten million lying around in your savings account?"

I let out a loud squawk of surprise. Ten million? Was Sebastian out of his ever-loving mind?

"Do you mean pesos, maybe?" I choked out. A girl could only hope.

"Either you bring him to me, or you return my money. It's your choice. Either way, I'm not in the mood to play games." He put his hand over Mrs. Santorini's gnarled one. "You know, my brother is not as nice as I am. His suggestion was that we cut off a finger for every million your boy cost us. I was mindful enough to understand that you can't be a nurse without a single finger, so be grateful that you're dealing with me, Miss Fenton. Have a good day. And take excellent care of my grandmother, will you?"

Whistling an unfamiliar tune to himself, McNally left the room. I collapsed onto the chair the minute I was sure he wasn't coming back. And then, because I was so pitiful, I cried and couldn't stop crying, until the Matron had to send me home.

***

"Babe, what's up?"

"Where are you, Jake?"

"I'm at the clubhouse. What's up? You don't sound so good."

"I'm coming over."

I ended the call and threw my phone onto the passenger seat, starting my car and pulling out of my parking space outside the Haven. I was leaving work four hours early and I couldn't even find any happiness in that.

At a red light, I grabbed my phone once more and tried Sebastian's number for the billionth time. Straight to voicemail, like usual.

"Damn you, you self-serving idiot," I mumbled.

By the time someone let me through the gates to the Phantom's headquarters, I had called Sebastian far fouler words. I didn't feel any better. In fact, I just felt worse.

Ten million dollars. Ten million dollars. Ten million dollars. Ten million dollars.

Why would Sebastian need to steal money? His parents were rolling in it. His job paid six figures annually. I was also pretty sure that whatever dirty dealing he was involved in paid just as handsomely, if not, more. So why did he have to steal?

I was no less closer to figuring this out than I was to keeping it together. My head was beginning to hurt just thinking about this. I tried to murder the image of Sebastian relaxing on a beach in Costa Rica or some such place, drinking mojitos and flirting with a bikini-clad beauty without a care in the world.

The dumb SOB.

It was mid-afternoon and when I got out my car, I noticed Jake standing at the entrance into the house. He came down the short flight of stairs, a questioning look written all over his face.

"Talk to me."

"One of the McNally brothers paid me a visit at work." I didn't sound afraid anymore. Pissed off was more like it. So pissed off that I didn't realize what telling Jake everything McNally had said to me would result in.

"Then it looks like one of the McNally brothers is gonna catch a beating today," Jake said heatedly.

"What? No. Jake, you can't -"

"Did he hurt you?" he interjected through clenched teeth.

"No. He threatened -"

"Which one?"

"Huh?"

"Which brother was it?"

"I...don't know."

"Doesn't matter. I'll kill them both."

Before I knew what was happening, Jake was dragging me into the house and assembling a crew of bikers, old and new recruits, to go out and murder two criminals. Jake stuck me in a bedroom that he claimed had always been his room at the house.

"Stay here. You'll be safe," he said, digging through a drawer until he pulled out something shiny and metal. He stuck it into the waistband of his jeans.

"A gun, Jake? Are you crazy? You could go right back to jail for that!" I sounded hysterical but just the idea of Jake going back to prison because of me was giving me the shakes.

"I'm not going back," he stated plainly.

"Please, don't do this. All I have to do is find Sebastian and everything -"

"You don't have to do ѕhit, Maya. This isn't your problem," he muttered, hands on either side of my face. "I'll protect you."

"But -"

He pressed his lips to mine, moving a hand to the back of my head and kissing me until I was breathless and weak in the knees. He didn't speak after that, and then he was gone, the roar of several motorcycles outside following in his wake.

I sat on the edge of the king-sized bed for a long time after that, until I shook my head and stripped off all my clothing, padding into the en-suite bathroom to take a long, hot shower.

When I got out, Ghost was sitting on the leather armchair that had been stuck in one corner, out of the way. Fortunately - call it paranoia or call it intuition - I'd decided to wear one of Jake's T-shirts and currently had on the pair of leggings I wore beneath my nursing scrubs. I mean, how creepy would it have been for Ghost to see me half-naked?

"You should know how sinister you look, prowling into rooms and just sitting in corners," I muttered, and one corner of his lips lifted.

"Heard you were...visiting and I had to stop by," he said with a shrug. "Of course, the circumstances are shitty."

I sat cross-legged on the bed. "If you'd just spelled it out for me that my ex was a devious little cyber rat, we could've avoided all this. You realize that, right?"

"I didn't have concrete proof until he started running with the McNally brothers."

"And still, you couldn't tell me."

"Ignorance is bliss, Maya."

"That's nonsense," I grumbled. "Jake is out there, probably getting shot at because of me. He might even go to jail."

"He can hold his own. You don't gotta worry about a guy whose nickname is Ripper."

"Maybe, but since everyone I care about always dies on me, I can't do anything but worry."

The truth of my words brought on a cloud of gloom that hung over my head. The mood shifted. Ghost cleared his throat.

"You're free to go wherever you want here, Maya," he said quietly, standing to his feet. "You know where the kitchen is."

"Thanks."

"It's nothing."

He was at the door when I said, "Can I ask you a question?"

"Yeah?"

"Why do you call him that? Ripper?"

"Because when Jake was a new recruit, he slashed the face of a rival MC's President. Ripped it to shreds with some kinda shank," Ghost replied, sounding like he was taking a joyful trip down memory lane. "And do you know why?"

"Why?" I breathed.

"The guy said something along the lines of Can't you read? and Ripper lost it. Left us all speechless."

"He slashed a guy for some meaningless taunt?"

"Meaningless? That's debatable. But you should ask him about that yourself. It ain't my story to tell."

I filed this piece of information for later. "OK. See you around, then."

"Yeah. Let me know if you need anything."

I was tired and the bed must have been a Sealy Posturepedic or something, because the instant my head hit that pillow, I was dead to the world.

***

Sometime in the dark night, a body slid into bed beside me. The smell of Jake permeated my senses, jolting me fully awake. He spooned my naked body to his, his arm wrapped around my midsection.

I asked, "Did you kill anybody?"

"No."

I breathed a sigh of relief. "Why not?"

"We...talked."

"About what?"

"Go back to sleep, Maya."

I didn't. Couldn't. I stayed awake, until the darkness melted into light and the warm body behind me vanished, like it had never been there in the first place.