“I’m sorry,” I say. “Penny’s the one in the hospital, right? Is she okay?”
“Far from it. He fucked her up really good. She’s looking at months of recovery.”
I stare, horrified. I pick up the paper and skim the article, catching words like break-and-entry, charged with assault and battery, and forcible confinement. I also catch the man’s name.
Gary Jamison.
Jules’ words from the previous night echo through my head. Ben Gary Jamison. She’d called the boy that.
Empathy tugs at me for little Ben. How could a father do that to his wife, the mother of his child? Had Ben seen what he’d done? Was he there? A sudden surge of affection for Spider hits me, remembering the way he spoke to him, the way he treated him with such warmth that seems impossible for a man so brutal.
At once, I feel grateful that Ben has not only an aunt like Jules, but a man like Spider in his life.
“Good Lord.” I set the paper down. “Is Penny going to be okay?”
“We’re not sure yet. They induced a coma because of a brain bleed almost two weeks ago. She’s out of it now, but she can’t remember much, and she sleeps a lot. Spidy says he’ll take Ben up to see her in a few days. I can’t tell you how grateful I am to Spider for being here for us. At least she’ll be able to hug her son and talk to him.”
“Lord, that’s awful. I’m so sorry.”
“Thanks. All I can say is, they’d better convict him,” Jules growls now. “If they don’t, Dex or Diesel won’t have to have him dealt with. I’ll kill him myself.”
The love she has for her sister and Ben, the protectiveness for them… I can’t help liking this woman.
There can’t be anything between her and Spider. The way she talks about him doesn’t feel like that. It’s more like a big brother.
It bothers me how much of a relief that is.
One of the White Springs guys comes up behind Jules and tilts her head back, whispering something in her ear. With a put-upon sigh, she slaps her hand in his, pulls herself up from her chair, and throws her arms around his neck. “A club girl’s work is never done. Later.”
The guy turns for the stairs and she leaps onto his back with a whoop. He carries her up the stairs, both of them laughing.
The front door to the bar opens and Ben’s familiar cute giggle rings out, making me turn.
“Can’t catch me!” Ben squeals, darting under a table away from Pip, who’s chasing him.
Pip dives under the table, trying to catch Ben’s leg. “Get over here, kid,” he growls, but I can hear the laugh under his frustration. “Why is it that I always get stuck babysitting people who love trouble?”
Ben scurries out from under the table, through Gin’s long legs. Then he scrambles under another one, forcing Pip to dart around Gin, narrowly avoiding knocking her over and sending her loaded tray flying.
“Someone ought to put you on Ritalin or something, kid. Get out here.” He dives, there’s a loud, nasty crack, and Pip yells in pain, obviously having hit his head on the underside of the table.
“Make me,” Ben giggles.
Then he darts out again, weaving through several pairs of legs and around tables, racing for the stairs. He trips over a chair and goes sprawling.
The scream of pain he lets out makes my heart lurch. I race to his side.
“Shit.” Pip rakes his hand through his hair, puffing.
I help Ben sit up. “Okay. Come here. Oookay.” His big blue eyes are swimming, his cheeks wet. There’s a small bruise on his chin and a bleeding cut on his lip. I tilt his head up, making sure there are no other injuries.
Tequila, having made her way around the bar toward us, stops when I give her a nod to let her know I’ve got him and he’s fine.
“Hurts,” he wails.
“I know. Come over here, honey.” I take him over to the couch and sit him down. Before I can ask, Tequila hands me a tissue, and I press it to his lip gently.
He gives a small whimper of pain.
“Sorry. Aw, I’m sorry. It won’t hurt as much in a minute. Here, let me see.” I take the tissue away. The blood has already stopped.
“That chair leg just jumped right out at you, didn’t it?” I say.