Whiskey: Devil's Rose MC #2

Chapter 8: Beatrice Cooper

When Whiskey left without saying goodbye this morning, I was more pissed off at myself than at him. He wasn't obligated to do anything else with me, but I wish he would have treated me with more respect and dignity, something I knew he was incapable of doing. 

But all logical sense left my brain when Poison told me something happened to him later in the afternoon - it wasn't even four o'clock yet. So for the past twenty minutes, I've been yelling at Alpha, and when he left, the doctor. Two people that don't deserve it but are getting my wrath anyway. 

If that motherfucker died without me getting a chance to say a piece of my mind, I'm going to bring him back to life, tell him off, and kill him myself. I hear his voice coming from outside, feeling relief rush through my body: my shoulders relaxing, my voice lowering, my heels landing back down on the floor. 

But it doesn't stop me from pointing a shaky finger up at Dr. Amin again.

"I will do my best to take care of him, Miss Beatrice."

That's when he appears at the doorway, blood staining his left shoulder. I flick my eyes over the rest of his body to only find a little girl - probably not even six yet - leaning on his right shoulder, her face tucked into his neck, her legs wrapped firmly around his torso. 

My feet gain movement with a mind of their own, and I get closer to them, not caring about anything else but knowing that both of them will be okay. I reach up to lay my hand on the side of his face, and he leans against it, reassuring me that he will heal. 

A light layer of tears gather in my eyes as I stare at his wound before glancing over at the dirt-covered girl. He presses a kiss to my forehead, demonstrating to me that he needs me to be there for him, and he mumbles something against the top of my head that I don't understand.

"Mr. Whiskey, we need to see that wound of yours."

"What about Navy?"

Navy, interesting but pretty name. I bite my bottom lip and hold my arms out for her. She doesn't even hesitate (not like I thought she would) to climb into my arms and clutch onto me.

"Bee?"

"I got her. I'll make sure she's okay, bathe her, feed her..."

"Take her to your apartment. Way more welcoming than mine."

I nod my head since I don't want to go there anyway. There are too many memories surrounding his place, and I think he knows that. For someone who didn't seem to pay much attention to me when in our relationship, he sure knows a hell of a lot about me now. 

I rub soothing and small circles on Navy's back, my heart aching as I think about what she might have had to go through while staying wherever the men went. With guns coming out the back of the trucks, Whiskey with a bullet wound in his shoulder, and this hurt little girl - it doesn't seem like it was a safe place at all. 

I wonder where her parents are. If she even has parents. I see Nick with a golf cart outside the clubhouse and wave at him to see if he'll take Navy and me back to my place. 

I try to ask the girl questions, wanting answers to basic things for when she likes to eat, if she's tired, if anything besides her bruised arm hurts, things like that, but she stays silent. Knowing that if she doesn't want to talk, she won't, so I stop asking questions she doesn't want to answer.

I thank Nick, carefully carrying her through my apartment building and opening my apartment door. She kicks her legs out wanting to be set down on the ground. She begins to walk around, running her cute hands over my white, fluffy couch, her eyes flicking over the walls of my apartment at the minimalist prints, and smiling as she sees the greenery dashed like glitter in every room.