Bleeding Edge: Elliot Security (Elliot Security Series Book 2) by Evie Mitchell (short story to read .txt) 📗

I struggled against his chest, watching as men surrounded David. Paxton rolled him, a hand coming to his neck. After a long moment, Pax looked up.

“He’s dead.”

Good.

Not a part of my soul grieved. I felt no guilt, just relief.

“Thank God,” I whispered as black squiggles clouded my vision. “Thank God.”

The last thing I remembered was Luc pulling me closer.

Chapter Fifty-Eight

Emmie

Hospitals, I’d learned, each smell alike. Both sterile and rotten. The strong smell of anti-bacterial cleaner rarely covered the stench of illness. I didn’t like how the obscure scent permeated my pores, leaving me feeling cleanly dirty. It was weird.

“And tomorrow you have the meeting with AFP, if your doctor approves.” Luc sat at my bedside reading from the calendar he’d installed on my new phone. Turned out, with no crazy cult to fear, I was free to embrace all the conveniences technology had to offer. Which, according to Luc, included playlists, shared couple calendars, and sexting.

Lots and lots of sexting.

Luc, it seemed, felt the best way to encourage my body to recover was to offer sexual rewards.

“I’ve been here three days,” I grumbled, pushing the tasteless cube of jelly the hospital described as dessert around the bowl with my spoon. “Isn’t it about time I go home?”

“Eat your meal,” Luc instructed from his seat, eyes still on our calendar.

Our calendar.

As much as I complained, a pleasant little spark shimmied up my spine every time I said our.

Grumpily, I scooped the jelly, stuffing the red mess into my mouth. It didn’t taste pleasant. I really wanted a cheeseburger and giant fries. Instead I had clear broth and jelly thanks to my bruised jaw. Fun.

“Knock knock!” called a cheerful voice as Addie, Kel, Jarrett, Jetta, Paxton, Brean, and Jack entered the room.

“Jesus.” Luc stood, shuffling to make room. “You guys bring the whole tribe?”

“Sawyer and Courtney are parking the cars. They’ll be here shortly,” Brean reported.

Addie hip-bumped him as she leaned over my bed, pressing air kisses to either side of my face. “How are you today, sunshine?” she purred, dumping socks, clean shirts, and three books on my lap.

“Good,” I muttered distracted by the abundance of gifts.

“We’ve been down to see your sister-in-law,” Kel told me, dropping into Luc’s vacated seat. “She’s doing well.”

“Is it sister-in-law or sister-wife?” Jarrett asked, perching on the arm rest.

“Sister-wife,” Addie confirmed, starting to fuss with my blankets. “She’s considering her options.”

“She was never married to that fucker,” Luc interrupted, his face darkening. I offered him a small smile.

“You know what I mean.” Addie waved a dismissive hand. “All we’re saying is, Beth is doing well and child services have agreed to place her with Kel.”

All eyes went to Kel who shrugged. “Seems like the best solution.”

Jarrett clasped a hand on her shoulder. “It really is,” he agreed. “Though the baby is going to be an added pressure in the next few months.”

Kel shrugged, a small smile playing on her lips. “We’ll work it out.”

“Does Beth want to keep it?” I asked.

Beth, the young girl who’d helped me, was David’s most recent wife. Like me, she’d been raped. Unlike me, she hadn’t had an opportunity to escape. The baby was David’s.

“No.” Jarrett shook his head. “Said she’s too young for this and wants to start over somewhere new. Somewhere she’s not known as the”−he raised his hands making air quotes− “pregnant cult girl.”

“Fair,” Jetta said from her seat on Pax’s lap. “She’s going to have enough baggage without adding a kid to the mix.”

“And Abel?” I asked, ignoring Luc’s reaction. Luc wasn’t a fan of my brother, no matter that he now understood Abel’s desperation.

“Grieving,” Addie said, moving to my feet. She fussed, pulling up the blankets to change my socks. “That poor boy.”

“Poor boy, my arse,” Luc muttered. I reached out a hand giving him a squeeze.

My brother had stayed because he’d fallen in love with Margery, a young woman in the commune. He’d worked hard and been granted permission to marry her. They’d been like me, desperate to get out. They were working on it when Margery got sick. The church didn’t believe in healthcare beyond basic first aid, at least not for the plebs. Edward preached that God would heal. Abel had pooled their money and gotten her an indulgence. She’d left to get treatment. It had been cervical cancer. She’d passed away over two years ago.

Abel, unaware of her new identity and with no way to contact an excommunicated member, hadn’t known.

“At least he tried to warn Em,” Jetta pointed out.

Luc snorted in response, crossing his arms, a scowl still marring his forehead.

Abel had been the one to send through the messages. While tasked with bringing me back into the fold, he’d resisted in the only way he knew how– by threatening me. He’d hoped the threats would give me enough time to escape. Luc, having watched me freak the fuck out, didn’t appreciate the gesture.

“We’re here!” Sawyer announced, entering the room. He carried what I can only describe as a silver phallic-shaped balloon.

“The fuck is that?” Luc asked, pointing at the atrocity.

“It’s a Zeppelin!” Sawyer enthused, dancing from one foot to the other. “You know? ’Cause Emmie’s had such a disaster of a year.”

I took the string of the offensive plane, watching it bob above my head.

“That is no blimp,” Addie drawled dryly. “It’s a goddamed penis.”

Everyone sniggered.

“I guess… thank you?” I asked, tugging on the sting.

“You’re welcome.” Sawyer reached over, ruffling my hair. “Only the best for our Em.”

Courtney gave me a small smile. “I heard they’ve arrested the last of them.”

“Yeah.” I blew out a breath, holding out the string to Luc, who led the balloon over to the other side of the room. “Annabelle wasn’t mucking about.”

“The confiscated servers were damaging, but the abuses are what will push the charges up,” Paxton offered, his hand absently stroking Jetta’s leg. “The body count is pretty high.”

“Not to mention the money,” Sawyer said, as he flicked through the multitude of well-wisher cards