Blackjack

The day had barely just began and yet I found myself sitting up at the club bar downstairs with a half empty drink in my hand swirling it around. Carrie Underwood was singing something sweet from the speakers upstairs but I couldn’t hear the lyrics with the amount of noise coming from the women drinking their hearts out. They were whining something awful and had I been sitting up there, my ears would’ve bled me out dry. Even as I held my drink, their vocals were making my liquor shake in tremors. Like liquid gold, the Jack Daniels glazed the bottom of my glass and I found my face’s reflection frowning before me.

Just what was I doing here so early?

Hell, even when I arrived the place was a bombshell. I was half convinced this was the after-party to whatever party I missed yesterday, but Fist proved me wrong yet again. As soon as I came rolling in with the tundra strapped to my bike, his arm had swung around my shoulder with a beer shoved into my chest before I could start asking him about business. By the looks of the party, his family was doing more than fine and I’d just have to “sit back and finally enjoy” myself for once.

And I did for a time but that was back at ten in the morning. It was well enough noon and two hours of drinking, poker, and trash talk with the fellas eventually wore me out some. I gave up on convincing Hank that climate change was a real thing and that I wasn’t some posh-artist medic for saying so. I also let his girlfriend know that I wasn’t looking for just any woman––whether it be a fresh date or a babysitter for Dex. By the time I’d realized exactly where “giving up” had led me to, I had stumbled in downstairs where Crow and Dixon were watching themselves a game of football at the club bar. Crow had poured me what felt like the fifth glass of whiskey, but I was tired enough to know that I was moving into the third. It was too early for this.

The game had finished, the boys went their way upstairs, and I was stuck in a spot asking myself how I got here in the first place. I let that question simmer into the back of my throat as I lift my drink to finish it whole––only for the door to bust open upstairs with a heavy start.

“Quiet down!” A voice bellowed loud enough to get the people to shut their mouths.

I waited in my seat, putting down my drink down long enough to listen. It sounded a lot like Cracker just from the way he threw his voice. The man always knew how to get an audience.

“God, you all smell like your own piss. Where the fuck is Blackjack?”

Crow’s voice came forward, “Last I saw him, we were drinking downstairs.”

“At the bar?” Cracker asked, and I raised a brow to myself.

“Sure enough.”

“Shit...”

That didn’t sound good. I was just about ready to get my ass off the stool and climb upstairs when Cracker was already thundering down the steps in his boots. I stood up just as he was at the bottom of the steps; with a hand at the edge of the counter, I looked at him with curiosity at the stark expression he carried before me.

“What in the hell is going on?”

He shook his head with a sinking grief, “Boy, you better be sober enough for this.”

I didn’t ask a question when he told me to put my drink down and follow him to Fist’s house. We were beelining through the short cut field and the only thing that came out of that man’s mouth was profanities. One, because were jogging up to the porch and the man hadn’t exercised a day in his life since he turned thirty––and two, because of the very reason he brought me here to the Prez’s house.

It was rare for the man to act like this. You would think that the devil lit a fire to his feet, but he was desperate. As much as I wanted to ask––to reach out for some information––I knew it was best to keep my mouth shut until I was spoken to. 

We had just reached the porch steps when he gave out a hard cough and bent down with his hands collected to his knees. I had just reached the last step when I turned around to see him breathing hard. When his face toned down from its flushed red, he settled on his decision to look up at me with his cold blue eyes and give me the answer I was so desperately seeking.

“It’s Ashley, m’boy.” He says finally. “She’s back.”

That struck my heart like an arrow. My eyes widened but I couldn’t see it as true.

Ashley Monroe––daughter of Fist himself, heiress to the Reapers, and the most stunning creature that ever walked on Montana soil. I couldn’t remember the last time I saw her since I took my place in the army, maybe she was in high school? But the fact that I couldn’t so much as tell her goodbye made my heart ache with regret for too long. Just what made her return home after so long of staying away?

Cracker collected himself up to the stairs and placed his hand up to my shoulder, a deep sigh releasing from his lungs.

“Come on, boy. We have work to do.”

I nodded but the tone in his voice didn’t clear my conscience. There was a part of me that didn’t know whether I should question Cracker while the topic was fresh on the table––or just rush my steps forward to see the truth for myself. I didn’t let the moment hang my head with dread but instead kept my eyes open as we ventured past the front hall dividing the dining and living rooms in two. We headed into the living room and as the soles of our shoes touched the carpet, I saw Fist himself sitting beside the vision that was his daughter.

I couldn’t believe my fuckin’ eyes.

Her eyes were closed with the bareness of her face lilting like a flower to the sun that was cast from the windows. Ashley looked paler than I last saw her… as if all the Montana sun had been drained from her skin ever since she left her home. Her frame looked so much smaller in comparison to the burly height of her father, but it wasn’t just because she was a woman. She didn’t look well fed at all.

The light collecting on her face made me feel sure it was her––but the bruising cast across her cheek up to her forehead…that made my stomach tighten with anger.

Just what happened to her all these years?

Fist finally looked up from the couch and saw me right then and there. He stood up halfway too fast and stopped the second he heard her shift beside him. With a slow urgency, he stood fully before us and treaded up to where we watched her quietly.

“Blackjack, thank God…” He mutters passively, “She just came back all beaten up––I haven’t seen my fuckin’ little girl in years and this is what I see. This!”

I furrowed my brow, “Just what happened to her? Was there an accident?” I knew very well that no accident would have her looking like this. She looked as if she’d barely eaten in years, those bruises, everything added up to one thing – abuse.

“I’ll tell you what happened.” The Prez looked up at me with brazen anger, “That fucking bastard–––Harry fuckin Vale’. I swear to God almighty, I’ll shove my gun down his throat and – !” 

“Easy there, brother.” Cracker takes his shoulder, but Fist shook his head.

“Her uncle had to carry her back to the house, Rob.” His voice shook with grief, “My baby couldn’t even walk back home. She got here, stayed conscious enough to see me and just knocked out like a light before my eyes. Jus’ what the fuck did he do to her…”

“Let me see her” I asked of him, partly because I wanted to check her, to asses her injuries and see just how extensive her injuries were. The other part? That was for purely selfish reasons.

The man nodded solemnly before stepping aside to let me through. I strode forward with my eyes holding onto her face as she grew closer and closer.

The sun did her skin such justice as the color of the bruises appeared soft against the light. I knelt to her side at the couch and slowly took her face to tilt her cheek to face me. The corner of my lips stiffened but I kept my cool to start studying the rest of her body. Apart from her face, there were a pattern of lavender welts running along her shoulders––even the circumference of her arms. When I started at the hem of her camisole, I looked over my shoulder to gather some hint of approval from Fist. He was her father after all.

Fist nodded quietly and my focus returned to her stomach as I started to roll the material up along her abdomen. What I saw made me stop dead in my tracks. I couldn’t fuckin’ breathe. 

The entire surface of her pale stomach was blotched with bruises running black. Without a doubt, there was a chance of internal bleeding if not severe trauma to her organs. My hand softly pressed up to her stomach, and I could feel it rising with the breath she took before she groaned at the inspection. I lifted my hand up and realized that the swelling wasn’t out of pure breath. No. Her stomach was a formed dome against the palm of hand. I could feel it when my hand returned to the area.

Ashley was pregnant.

“Jesus, Ashley…” I mutter to myself as I smoothen my fingers along the pronounced edge incurring the swell.

“What is it, Rob?” Fist inquired with urgency in his voice.

I opened my mouth to answer him, but the words couldn’t come out when my eyes fell to the stain spreading throughout her pants. It was a thick color that had started from between her legs. The air ran cold in my lungs and I automatically stood up to turn and face them.

“I need you guys to leave the room.” I stated plainly, uncaring of what outrage Fist would bestow upon me for speaking to him in such a tone.

The man’s face twisted in confusion, and then anger. Cracker had a tough time understanding it himself.

“Hold on there, boy. Exactly what’s going on?”

I shook my head, “There’s not much time to explain. I’m going to need you guys to trust me.”

“You can’t be serious––” Fist shook angrily.

Cracker’s hands were on his shoulders the second he lunged forward.

“Get your hands off of me!” The man roared but Cracker wouldn’t budge.

“Lloyd, the boy knows what he’s doin’!”

I could only wince at the sight of them given that there was lack in time. With a heavy heart, I forced myself to turn my back to them as Cracker forced the man to backtrack their steps to the door. My hand grabbed at my phone and I dialed the number in with adrenaline running through my veins. As I raised the phone to my ear, Cracker shut the door with a slam. Ashley and I were left in silence with the only sound drawn from the idle tone.

When the phone picked up, I breathed a sign of relief when a woman’s voice came over the receiver.

“Hello?”

“Carter, you close to the club?” I spoke without hesitation.

A cough emitted from the phone, “Fifteen minutes, give or take.”

I stilled, “Are you sick?”

“No, hun. I choked on my drink.” She grunted, “What do you need so early in the day?”

“Come on down to the Fists. You know the address?”

She chuckles, “Ever since I started making house calls for the big guy himself.”  

“It’s for Ashley.” I deadpanned.

A brief pause allowed the thought to sink in.

“Shit.” She finally breathes, and I glance back to Ash’s form behind me.

“It’s pretty bad, Carter.”

She was shuffling on the other end of the phone. A thick heave filled my ear and I could tell she was lifting her hefty bag, getting ready to leave.

“You wouldn’t be calling me if it wasn’t.” The starched woman retorted. “What exactly happened so that I know what I’m walking into?”

I knelt back down to the floor and felt my way around Ashley’s stomach again. The bruising felt tender, raw, and warm. “Possible miscarriage.  Listen, I need you here as soon as possible. How long you got now?”

The engine roared into the receiver and relief filled my head.

“Soon.” She finally replied before hanging up.

I shoved the phone back into my back pocket and resumed looking over the bruising. As I inspected, I noticed how her shoulder was swelled in red. My brows furrowed at the length of her arm and I let my hands handle the opposition of her elbow to her shoulder. With a thumb circling the indent underneath her armpit, I could feel the heat and pressure of her shoulder press back into my thumb, the skin practically inflamed.

She must have dislocated it by moving against some pressure. I rolled it, slowly aligning it in place but the pain was enough to make her body tense up all at once. Ashley’s face twisted up with a whimper escaping her lips and I stopped at that moment to let her breathe. It hurt me to just watch her writhe like that in pain, but the shoulder had been dislocated enough to the point that just a touch would hurt it. The swelling was severe, and the soreness would triple that affect given the lengths it took for her to get here.

Jesus, just how did she manage driving herself up here?

It didn’t matter. I had to try my best to relocate her arm back to her shoulder socket, otherwise the swelling wasn’t going my last problem. I could say I had enough experience on the medic field perform the gritty task without lifting a finger, but this was different.

Ashley had been moving enough to make the wound highly sensitive, so it wouldn’t do to go about the maneuver recklessly.

I left the living room to head over to the kitchen with my fingers flexing against my sides in contemplation. With my thumb, I was cracking every bubble in my knuckles until I was met with the fridge. I opened the freezer box and to my relief there was a bag of frozen raspberries sitting beside the ice tray. It’d do for now. I snatched the iced bag, closed the freezer, and went striding through the house back to Ashley.

She was laying right where I left her, her face tense with distress. When I laid the bag of ice across her shoulder, she hissed in her deep sleep.

“Shh..” I whisper to her, bringing my hand up to stroke her warm cheek, “It’ll be over with soon, baby.”

After fifteen minutes of cooling, Carter still hadn’t shown up and I was left to my own devices. My right hand was placed up the cusp of her shoulder while my left was situated to her the length of her arm. I started swiveling the rotation of her arm till the lateral deltoid was no longer apparent before my eyes. Ashley’s face grimaced under the sunlight as I steadied my arms to the cordial position.

If I fucked up now, she’d need half a bottle of pain killers just so that she wouldn’t regret waking up. With a deep breath, I pushed the arm into its place until it finally slid along the fixed position of her shoulder. The impact was enough to send a sharp yelp to my ear and I released her shoulder instantly. I stood up from the floor, holding myself up with the backboard of the sofa to examine the arm from above. As it was, I couldn’t have inspected her further with my hands even if I wanted to.

Ashley’s expression was far removed from peace.

Even if I wasn’t handling her shoulder, she seemed lost in the darkness of her dreams to register what was going on around her. Hurt, pain, fear. Those were the feelings that sank into her pretty face. Her eyes were flinching behind closed eyelids and her lips––god, she was breathing through her teeth trying to get away from whatever it was chasing her.

I’d seen it before from patients back at the station. That same fear of running away from your memories and the things you can never un-see again. Just watching her fight those demons made my heart go weak.

Without a second thought, I reached out to her face with my steady hand. I wanted to assure her that she needn’t be afraid. There was nothing coming to get her. And that when she woke up, she’d be safe with her family, her friends –with me. I was determined to coax her mind to peace––until I was stunned in motion by the sound of the doorbell.

I pulled my hand back to my side and looked over my shoulder, my breath still hitched to the back of my throat. That must’ve been Carter. God, it took her long enough to come all the way down here.

I didn’t let the time pass too long for me to get to the front door. When I opened it, sure enough there was Doctor Carter smirking back at me.

“Good to see you, Rob-dear.”

“Likewise.” I mutter.

She was a stubby looking platinum blonde with thirty years of experience in her experience with obstetrics. I’m pretty sure the entire neighborhood has called her at least once to handle their litters since she’s only a heartbeat away. I moved aside, and she stepped in, her duffle bag weighing her down to the floor. I offered to take it from her hands and she gladly let me. As she pushed her thick red glasses up the bridge of her nose, the Doctor examined the house around her.

“It’s been too long since I’ve been here.” The woman tutted as I guided her to the living room,

“Not since Ashley was born. It feels colder since her mother left us.”

I interrupted her, pulling her from her trip down memory lane back into reality “She’s over here, Doc.”

“Ah, there’s my girl.” The woman passed me and started over to her slump body.

I followed her with the duffle bag across my shoulder while she took the time to inspect her wounds. The weight of it slid off my shoulder as I carefully placed the massive thing on the coffee table. Doctor Carter shook her head at the sight and I felt my stomach go sick with her silent reflection.   

“Norma.” I say.

“Find me some scissors, Blackjack.” She finally spoke and I stilled. “We can’t move her legs too much the way she is now.”