Keeping Karly (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour) (3 page)

“Yeah, well John can go and get fu—”

“Karly,” my sister says in a voice clearly designed to interrupt the man’s words, “do you know where you are?”

“Hostibitable,” I say. I feel like I’m talking around a mouthful of marbles. Why haven’t I noticed that sooner? I thought I was talking normally. My second attempt is no better. “Hopsittable.” Damn it. What the hell is wrong with me?

“That’s right,” the man says in a soothing voice. “You’re in St. Michael’s Hospital. Do you remember why you’re here?”

“Rules,” I say, struggling to get my mouth working correctly. “Forgot.”

“You forgot the rules?” Casey asks, sounding surprised. “What rules?”

“Dinner. Clean. H–Happy.” I try to pry my eyes open without success. I’m growing really frustrated. I don’t understand why I can’t talk. I ache all over. And Fuck! I need to clean the carpet! “Carpet happy clean dinner.”

“It’s okay,” the man’s voice says in a deep soothing tone. “The carpet is already clean. Dinner is on the table. It’s okay now, sweetheart. Everyone will be happy.”

I almost sob with relief and lie back down.

I know the secret to a happy marriage. I can’t believe that I actually forgot.

* * * *

Grant was ready to put his fist through a wall. Six months ago they’d thought Casey had looked awful lying in a bed in this hospital. Karly’s appearance proved how wrong assumptions could be. Both of her eyes were black and swollen closed. She had a deep laceration on her forehead, and according to what Bryce had told him, she had several fist-size bruises on her ribcage. If he had to guess he’d say the body blows were deliberate—easily hidden from prying eyes and exactly what a cowardly wife beater would aim for—but that the cut on her head, possible concussion and swollen, black eyes had been from Karly hitting a bench or table edge as she fell forward.

Hell. Karly had been so vocal about her hatred for men who bashed women that he would never have guessed the secret she’d been hiding.

Grant and Bryce stood back as the doctor finally came into the room and started asking questions that seemed designed to check the severity of a brain injury. Grant held himself rigid as Karly answered several simple questions with strange answers. She got a few correct—at least he thought the unintelligible sounds she made were close to the correct answer—but he held his breath when the doctor indicated for Casey to follow him out of the room.

Thankfully, his roommate and friend reached for his hand in a silent request for him to come, too. Bryce nodded, taking Karly’s hand in his own once more as Grant and Casey left the room.

“The X-rays and CT scan came up clear so there’s no serious damage.”

“Why did she get the questions wrong then?” Casey asked nervously.

“Disorientation is normal after an accident like this.”

“It wasn’t an accident,” Grant said through gritted teeth. “Her husband attacked her.”

“My apologies for the poor phrasing,” the doctor said quickly, giving him a grim nod in acknowledgement. “After an injury like this, disorientation is normal. The concussion is mild but I would like to keep her overnight.”

“Overnight?” Casey asked fretfully. It was clear that she didn’t think that was long enough. “What about her eyes? Her ribs?”

“Ms. James, your sister was very lucky, but I would suggest that she not return to her home or her husband. Does she have somewhere else to stay?”

“She can stay with us,” Grant said quickly, making certain that Casey knew her sister was welcome. He and Bryce might own the house but it was plenty big enough for four adults to cohabitate. Judging by Bryce’s reactions to Karly so far, it’s something he would likely insist on anyway.

The doctor glanced at his watch. “Visiting hours are almost over, but I’m going to leave instructions for the nurses to allow one person to stay by her bedside for the night. Concussion can be tricky, and it’s very helpful to have a familiar voice.”

“Okay,” Casey said, obviously anxious to go back to her sister. “Thank you, doctor.”

Grant held back, waiting for Casey to get out of earshot. The doctor seemed to understand what he was waiting for. “Karly was very, very lucky. It would be a good idea if she’s not left alone with her husband.” The older man ran a hand over his bald head and sighed quietly. “I know cases like this can be tricky, but…”

“We’ll protect her,” Grant said with quiet determination.

He knew Bryce and at least a few of the other Doms he and his brother trusted would help. They would set aside the hurt they’d felt from her newspaper articles and do what was right. No one deserved to go through what had happened to Karly.

“Thank you,” the doctor said with a tired nod. Grant stood in the hallway and watched the man as he walked away. Karly’s story wasn’t unique by any stretch of the imagination. It must be awful for a doctor to continually patch up beaten wives who return to their violent, abusive husbands over and over. Grant could barely imagine the sense of helplessness and despair that would follow.

He turned back and walked into the room. Karly James might not understand it right now, but she’d just gained a community willing to protect her with their lives, and stubborn, outspoken woman or not, Karly James was going to be safe.

I finally wake with no headache. Actually, scratch that, I still have a headache, but this time it’s more manageable.

“Karly?” The voice is deep and familiar. Too bad I still don’t know who the man is. My eyes feel worse now. I don’t even want to try to open them. “How are you feeling?” the man asks.

“Peachy,” I answer sarcastically. How the fuck does he think I’m feeling? “Where’s John?”

“Your husband?” the man asks, sounding shocked, but then he reaches over and places a warm hand over my freezing cold one. “You’re safe here. We won’t let him hurt you again.”

“Hurt me?” I ask in confusion. Surely the man doesn’t think this happens all the time. “He didn’t hurt me. Not intentionally. I hit the coffee table as I fell. It was an accident.”

“No Karly, it wasn’t.”

“Was too,” I argue childishly. I know John didn’t mean to hurt me this badly. We’ve had disagreements before, but all I have to do is remember the rules and everything is fine.

“Explain the bruised kidneys then.”

Talking hurts my head anyway, so I don’t even bother trying to explain. Obviously this man thinks the worst of my husband and isn’t going to be swayed by logical argument.

“Karly, when I came into your house your husband was smashing up the place while you bled on the floor. He might not have intended to beat you badly enough for people to see, but the punches he landed on your torso were intentional and designed to make you hurt for a very long time.”

“Where’s Casey?” I ask, deliberately changing the subject.

“She and Chris just went to grab coffee.”

“Chris who?”

“Chris is one of the Doms from the club.”

“Dom?” I ask frantically as I try to lever myself out of the bed. A large warm hand on my shoulder gently presses me back. As worried as I am for my sister, the pain shooting through my ribs cannot be denied. Shit, I remember this pain well. It had been more than two years, but right now I remember the injuries with a clarity I can’t quite explain. “My sister is going to get herself killed. What the hell is she thinking going off with a man whose idea of a good time is beating the hell out of her?”

I could be wrong, but I can hear a noise that sounds like someone grinding their teeth.

“Chris is a good guy and an experienced Dom. He’ll protect Casey, not hurt her.” The words are strained, almost as if the owner is trying to hold on to his temper.

I want to ask how he knows the man my sister is with. I mean, I’m still not certain who I’m talking to, but I’m starting to get an uncomfortable feeling that I met him a long time ago. In fact, I’m fairly certain it was in this very hospital.

“Bryce?” I ask in a very small voice.

“Yes, sweetheart,” he says as if he’s waiting for me to ask him a question.

I don’t know what to say. The last time I saw him I yelled all of my frustration at him. Actually, I abused the hell out of him. I haven’t changed my mind about my sister’s chosen lifestyle—or about Doms—but I can’t deny that Bryce has gone above and beyond when it comes to looking out for a virtual stranger.

“Thank you for calling an ambulance.”

“Try and get some rest, sweetheart. The doctors are talking about releasing you today.”

“Today?” I ask as my heart starts to pound painfully. I’m not frightened. I’m not. I can go home, and I’ll remember the rules, and I’ll do what John expects, and I’ll stay out of trouble, and I’ll…I’ll… Shit, how the fuck am I going to do all of that when I can’t even open my eyes?

“Breathe, Karly,” Bryce says in a voice that is both gentle and bossy. “You’re not going back there. You’re staying with us. We have plenty of room.”

I want to shake my head, but that damn headache is making itself known again. “I can…I can stay with Casey. She’ll take care of me.”

“That’s the point,” Bryce says, his warm fingers touching my arm gently. “Casey has been staying at my place since she moved out of yours.”

“She’s your submissive?” I ask as a myriad of emotions plow through me. I don’t want my sister living that lifestyle, but a part of me is relieved that if she is involved, that it’s at least with a man like Bryce. I don’t know him very well, of course, but at least I’m not frightened of him.

“No,” Bryce says with what I imagine is a smile on his face. “Casey is currently single—just our roommate—but I think Chris might have something to say about that in the near future.”

“Chris the Dom? A man who’s going to beat the hell out of her because it’s what he wants to do, and she’s going to let him?”

“Karly, Chris is a close friend of mine. He would never do anything to hurt Casey—not in the way you’re thinking.”

“But he’ll hurt her,” I say stubbornly.

“Perhaps,” Bryce concedes, “but only in a way that is mutually acceptable to both of them.”

“You think what Robert did was mutually acceptable?” My head is so sore and I can feel tears welling behind my swollen eyes. I don’t want to have this argument, but my sister’s life could very well be at stake.

“No, what Robert did to Casey was as selfish and as cowardly as what your husband did to you.”

“My husband is not a Dom!” Even as I say the words, it seems a silly point to make.

“No, your husband isn’t a Dom. Neither is Robert. They’re both cowardly assholes who beat up women because they didn’t like the way things were going.”

I want to defend my husband—he’s never strangled me until I had a heart attack like Robert did to Casey—but I’m having difficulty breathing as I remember the fear I was left with last time John used me as a punching bag. For months I’d flinched at every noise, cowered at every raised voice—even the ones on TV—and run myself into exhaustion making sure that everything was exactly as my husband expected it to be.

It had been an awful and frightening world to live in.

And here I was, right back where I started two years ago.

* * * *

Bryce glanced over to where Grant was standing in the doorway. His brother looked as worried as Bryce felt. Karly spoke like a woman who’d lived with this type of threat her entire married life, and Bryce was struggling to hide his anger. What sort of an asshole had she been married to? Casey had already confirmed that she’d never seen any evidence of abuse, but judging by Karly’s mumbled words and the brief glimpse he’d had of a ragged scar on her lower abdomen, this was definitely not the first time something like this had happened.

“Still asleep?” Casey asked in a whisper as she and Chris came back into the room.

“Awake,” Karly mumbled, clearly exhausted but fighting it.

“How are you feeling?”

“How the fuck do you think I’m feeling? I got run over by a fucking truck.”

Casey turned to Grant and Bryce. “She doesn’t remember?” she asked in a horrified whisper.

“She’s trying not to remember,” Grant said, walking further into the room to wrap a hand over Karly’s lower leg. Even from here, Bryce could see the protective instinct his brother felt toward the woman. But that didn’t stop Grant from speaking his mind. “Your sister’s decided that denial is going to be easier than facing the truth.”

“Did not,” Karly said in a sulky voice.

“Did too,” Grant replied, mimicking her tone almost perfectly. “Karly, we’ll all help you through this. You don’t need to worry.”

She compressed her lips like she had a smartass retort, but it was obvious she was too tired to argue.

“It’ll all work out, Karly. Just sleep now,” Bryce said, caressing his hand over her upper arm.

She grunted a reply and a few moments later seemed genuinely asleep.

Casey handed Bryce a coffee from the tray. He took it gratefully. When he’d decided to drop by Karly’s home to let Casey know he was back in the country and to see how she was doing, he hadn’t imagined spending the next fifteen hours in the hospital with a battered woman. It was a hell of a way to try and overcome jetlag, but he was very glad he’d decided to stop by on his way past her home.