educating me on club dynamics or something.
The weirdest of all is the complete lack of fear she has of Snake, whatever the warning in her voice indicates. It’s like whatever he will do to her is par for the course and accepted.
We do what we have to for the club.
I nod.
When Pip comes out and nods for us to go in, Dee slaps her forehead. “Oh, shit. I should have bought something for her.” She rolls her eyes. “I’m going to the gift shop for a minute. Pip will be at the door.”
She leaves and I head for the room while he stands guard in hall.
For some reason, unease crawls through me when I reach the door to Penny’s room. I force myself to go in.
Ben is sitting beside the woman on the bed with his head on her chest. Penny lies across the bed, the upper end of which is raised slightly, elevating her head.
As soon as I see her, my stomach gives a lurch. The blankets are down around her waist, and her arm, lying across them, is discolored with bruises that look yellowed and faint. Her head has a bandage around it. There’s an equally old looking bruise on her jaw. She looks tired and worn, but she smiles at her son happily while she runs her hand through his hair, and they talk about some movie I’ve never heard of.
“Hello,” she croaks in a voice hoarse with disuse. She gives me a friendly smile and waving for me to approach. “Come in. You must be Emma.”
I shake myself, feeling suddenly ashamed for standing there like a deer caught in headlights, and walk over to her side. “Hi.”
“Oh, Mom,” Ben says, sitting up and taking my hand. “This is Emma, the one I was telling you about.”
She nods. “Nice to meet the woman who’s been so good to my son.”
I shrug awkwardly and stroke his hair, not looking at her.
“It’s not as bad as it looks,” she says. Her tone has the air of someone trying to break the ice and allay my concern all in one. “The bandage makes it look a lot worse, and that’s from the surgery.”
I remember that Jules said she had a brain bleed that put her in a coma. She sounds like she’s in pain, her breathing shallow when she shifts on the bed, probably from her broken ribs, which were mentioned in the article.
Fury with the man who put her here rages through me, and I settle for a nod, looking away so she won’t see it. I have to stifle memories of the pain women were put through in the Colony. None of them were ever put through anything like this where anyone could see. Once again, I think of the warnings the pastors gave us about how the men on the outside are savage animals.
“Do you need anything? Water? Juice or something?” I ask her.
“Nope, I’m good. I’ve got the watered-down swill for juice they give us.” She nods to the rolling bedside table that sits on her other side.
I grin, admiring the woman’s spirit. I really like her.
“So you’re the one who’s got Spidy all in a twist,” she says with an admiring smile.
I cough a laugh. That’s not how I would put it. She makes it sound as if he’s in love with me or something.
Taking a seat in the chair beside her and desperate for a change in subject, I nod indicating her bare arms. “You don’t have any tattoos.”
She smiles, and I feel suddenly stupid for saying it.
“Girl, you gotta say it right if you’re with him. Call them tats. And I’m guessing you expected me to be covered in ink because I was an ol’ lady.”
I scrunch my brows.
“What?” Penny says, confused at my expression.
“Why do they call them old ladies? Why don’t they just say wife?”
Penny laughs and Ben giggles. Great. I roll my eyes. I did it again, missed something obvious I’m supposed to know.
“Wow. The guys were right, you are out of the loop,” Penny says, but her eyes are friendly. “That’s just not how bikers talk.”
“Ah,” I say, wishing I could hide my embarrassment.
“How’s Diesel?” she asks. “Is he still doing those fights at the clubhouse?”
“Yes,” I say, having seen him in one of those fights a time or two and glad I don’t have to tell her I’ve never talked to him.
“Figures.” She shakes her head, looking somewhere between sad and annoyed. “Does he win?” she adds hopefully.
“I’m