Chapter Five
The two men that strode into Snake’s hospital room with cheap suits and grim faces might as well have had cop tattooed across their foreheads. Not that they were trying to disguise their detective status, but it was so damned cliché it was comical.
The fat one had a donut in his hand, for fuck’s sake.
Really, Snake was damned surprised it had taken them so long to get around to him. He’d been expecting a visit from the local pigs ever since he regained consciousness two weeks ago. They stood at the foot of his bed staring him down in some kind of intimidation tactic. He held back the snort that wanted to escape. Took a lot more than some mean-mugging from the cops to frighten him.
“Lost your way, gentlemen? Far as I know this hospital doesn’t have any veterinarians. Don’t think they treat pigs here but I can check with my nurse.” Despite the hoarse rasp of his voice, talking felt unbelievable. His throat was still a bit sore, but it was to be expected with the amount of swelling and weeks of disuse, or so he’d been told.
It was taking a bit of time to get used to the feel of his tongue as well. Years ago, he’d had it surgically split, forked, to fit with his Snake persona. Crazy, maybe, but it worked damn well in freaking the fuck out of people. Long black hair, black contacts, split tongue. No one dared fuck with him.
Now though, a plastic surgeon had stitched it back together. According to the doc, he’d bitten his tongue during the beating and the damage he’d sustained required some surgical repair. Doc had no choice but to piece the damn thing back together. Now, it felt like a zipper ran down the center of his tongue. Least of his injuries, but it was taking some getting used to.
“No, Mr., uh, Gould, is it? I think we’re right where we’re supposed to be.”
Snake didn’t bother to show any outward reaction. Not his first rodeo. If he got pissed or defensive, they’d pounce on him like a hungry cat on a dead mouse.
“All right then, what can I do for you boys?”
“Hear you’re getting out of here soon. Heading to a rehab facility.” The taller, skinnier investigator leaned against the wall at the foot of Snake’s bed.
“Sure am. Need the address so you can send some flowers?” If they’d get to the fuckin’ point he could shut them down and be done with this bullshit. But they had to take their sweet time. Drag it out. Fuck with his day to make themselves feel like they had some sort of power over him.
There wasn’t a fuckin’ soul who had any goddamned power over him. He’d spent his entire adult life making sure of that. He answered to no one, was accountable to no one, and took shit from no one.
Ever.
The fat one polished off his donut and rubbed his greasy hands on his rumpled pants. “Sorry, my partner didn’t introduce himself. He’s Detective Waters and I’m Detective Oberman. You gotta know we can’t let this slide, right? A John Doe found beaten to a pulp, shot multiple times, and tossed down a ravine? That’s the shit we live for. So how ’bout we skip the bull and you just tell us what happened.”
Snake shrugged and pointed to his scalp. “Sorry, boys. Not sure if you heard, but my brain was bounced around pretty good. Don’t remember much beyond getting jumped while I was taking a walk.”
He shoved down the rage that swelled whenever he thought of the events leading up to his hospitalization. Because what he really remembered was pain. Intense, agonizing pain and the knowledge that death was near. And he remembered Casper’s voice. The voice that now represented betrayal. The voice that made him want to exact revenge in the most painful and prolonged way possible.
He gritted his teeth to keep the murderous feeling from showing on his face. All in good time.
From his spot against the wall, Detective Waters snorted out his disbelief. Despite his partner’s arrogant attitude, Oberman seemed to be the man in charge, unless that was just a head-game. Oberman held a hand out to silence his partner. “So, you’re just out for a stroll near the ravine, no phone, no wallet and a bunch of blood thirsty bikers decide to beat the shit out of you and pump you full of lead?”
“Bikers, huh?” Snake gave Oberman a grin. “Hear they can be some dangerous motherfuckers. I’m pretty sure I always carry my phone and wallet. Must have been mugged. There’s some motivation for you at least.”
“The man who called it in to us said there were three guys in leather biker vests. He couldn’t make out what they said, but he was sure they were biker leathers.”
Snake scratched his chin like he was really giving it some thought. “Can’t say that I know any bikers.”
Waters pushed off the wall and ignored his partner’s shushing. “Look, asshole, cut the shit. Five seconds of searching and we know your name ain’t Nick fuckin’ Gould. Random mugging, my ass. You brought some nasty shit into our peaceful town and if you think we’re just gonna walk out of here and forget about you, you’re crazy.”
Oberman released a heavy sigh, but didn’t stop his partner’s rant.
“You got two choices, start talking here or we can visit you again in the medical ward in prison.”
Snake laughed. Really laughed. Laughed like he hadn’t in a long time. He didn’t want to tip his hand, but these small-time detectives needed to know he wasn’t some dumb prick they’d be able to bully. “Prison, huh? Let’s see.” He rubbed a hand over his scalp. Damn, the tiny amount of hair was surprising every time. “I’m found one breath away from death, no weapon, no signs I committed any crime, no other bodies. What exactly is it you think I’ll be locked up for?”
“Interfering with my investigation.” Spittle flew from Waters’ mouth as his eyes sparked with hatred.
Moron.
Hard to maintain the upper hand when he couldn’t control his damn temper. Weak-assed man.
Done talking to him, Snake focused on Oberman. At least he wasn’t spitting all over the room. “You agree with him? Brutal assault victim with a documented brain injury can’t remember shit and you think a judge will sign off on interfering with an investigation? Must have been some good shit in that donut, copper.”
Oberman shook his head. “Just trying to get to the bottom of a crime, Mr. Gould. It’s our job to keep our little town safe. Come on, Waters,” he said as he turned toward the door. “You’ll be seeing us, Mr. Gould.” He waddled out of the room.
Waters gripped the footboard and leaned over the bed. “I’m gonna live so far up your fuckin’ ass, I’ll be able to see through your eyes.”
Snake shot him a wink. “Be sure you tickle my prostate a bit while you’re in there. I might as well get something out of the deal.”
The young detective’s face turned crimson and his knuckles whitened as he gripped the bed rail. With a growl, he stormed out of the room.
Snake chuckled. A little entertainment went a long way when there was nothing to do but stare at a twenty-inch television all day.
The lack of work was getting to him. He wasn’t an idle man and being forced into inactivity was a tough pill to swallow. Gave a man too much time to think.
Not that the thinking time was all bad. Casper’s death had been fantasized in his head until Snake could practically taste the sweet flavor of revenge. Executing it would have to wait until he could fuckin’ walk more than the three steps to his bedside chair, but seeing Casper pay slowly and painfully for his betrayal was enough motivation to have him walking back to Arizona by the end of the month.
Still, he needed some shit to do besides sit in bed and stew in his own anger or fantasize about that hot little physical therapist who’d been in to see him two weeks ago. She hadn’t been back since, but her tight, round ass and the imagined full breasts under her boxy scrubs had left enough of an impression on him to have him picturing her in countless sexual scenarios.
On her knees, sucking him off while he sat at the edge of the bed. Bent over his sink while he watched his cock disappear into her hungry pussy. On all fours in his bed begging for more as his palm warmed her ass.
Shit! He needed to redirect his thoughts before he got another boner he couldn’t deal with. He couldn’t whip his dick out and rub one off when some busybody was walking in his room every five minutes.
Some of the nurses were hot as fuck too. Damn shame. Under normal circumstances he’d sweet talk one or two of them into dropping to their knees or bending over for his cock, but seeing as how he could barely fucking stand without help, that was out of the question.
Five weeks. Christ. It was the longest he’d gone without sticking his dick in someone in years.
Dr. Michaels strode into the room, the arrogant swagger of a man with a bit of power and money ever present. “Mr. Gould, I’m just here for a final check then I can write your discharge papers and get you moving on out of here and on to bigger and better.”
The guy rubbed Snake the wrong way. Not that it was much of a surprise. Most people, besides those in his own club, rubbed him the wrong way. Perks of being an antisocial bastard. This guy got under his skin more than most, though. Ticked him off how the uppity doc had his hands all over the sexy therapist despite her obvious discomfort.
Snake sure as hell wasn’t someone who ran to the aid of a damsel in distress, but witnessing the doc one step shy of groping her had fired him up. Not that he’d been able to do a damn thing about it beyond faking some dizziness. Still, very out of character. Shit, he needed to unload some sexual frustration before he became the poster child for women’s rights.
“Anxious to get back to normal, Doc.” Another out of character move. Under normal circumstances, if he didn’t like someone, Snake made damn sure they knew it. For some reason, he kept his aversion to the doc to himself. He supposed he owed the man for making sure that he didn’t end up crossing over to hell before his time.
“That voice is sounding stronger each day.” The doctor ran through his examination then stepped away from the bed with a nod. “You’ve made remarkable progress considering the shape you were in on admission. Biggest surprise to me is the lack of neurological symptoms. No short-term memory issues, no delayed processing, no difficulty finding your words?”
Snake shook his head. “I can’t remember everything about what happened to me, but otherwise I’m not having trouble with my memory. Headaches on occasion and it does seem to take me an extra minute if a lot of information is being fired at me, but that’s about it.” By now he’d remembered enough of what happened to make sense of the events, but he hadn’t revealed that to anyone. If the cops subpoenaed his medical records, they wouldn’t find anything beyond what he told them.
The doc nodded and scratched his chin. There was some stubble there, like he’d been on an all-night shift and missed a shave. “That’s all normal and will fade with time. You may even remember what happened to you at some point, though parts of it will probably remain spotty. Well, I gotta say everything looks fantastic. I’ll get the transfer paperwork completed and transport should be here to pick you up within the hour. Hope we don’t see you back here ever again.”
Snake chuckled. If he never saw the inside of a hospital again it would be too soon. “Thanks for keeping me out of the ground, Doc.”
The doctor nodded and left the room.
It had been tricky getting approval to the rehab center without proper identification or insurance, or so the case manager told him. Snake had money. He’d been stashing some away for years. As an untrusting asshole, he’d never leave himself in a financially vulnerable position. Unfortunately, getting access to the cash was going to be damn difficult. There was one person he was almost certain he could trust, but he wasn’t ready to involve her just yet.
He’d played himself off as a drifter, homeless and without family. It worked to answer the question of why Nick Gould had no credit, no identification, no insurance. And lucky for him, the rehab hospital Amanda recommended took on a few pro bono cases each year. The pieces had fallen into place like a perfect formation of bikes, lined up and riding as though one.
Maybe he’d run into the spunky physical therapist while he was recovering. Hell, maybe she’d be assigned to work with him. She’d get him back on his feet and he could repay her by throwing her a fuck or two. With a smile on his face, he rested back against the bed, closed his eyes, and allowed one more dick-hardening fantasy about Amanda.
With each pulse of blood that coursed to his cock, he felt himself returning to who he was. Before long he’d be watching Casper’s life drain from his eyes.
No one removed the head from this fucking snake.