A Civilian for Silo Read online

  Silo felt his frown before he realized he was reacting to the word ‘all’ in Dr. Peyton’s question. “Some. Most of it was in that fucked up lingo you bastards speak though.”

  “Yeah, we’re trained in that language for years before they let us all loose back into the ‘real’ world,” the medical man replied with a quirked grin. “Since the forms list you as her brother and because I was Hellion-raised, I’ll break protocol and give it to you. But I’m warning you now, it’s a lot and it’s not pretty.”

  Silo sat up straighter in his chair, unconsciously squaring his shoulder and tensing his stomach muscles. He knew it was gonna be bad, but he needed to hear it. Needed to know in order to figure out what they were going to be working through once the medical shit was out of the way.

  And the doctor told him, listing everything they’d found in every test whether visual or by lab test. And that list was beyond fucking long. Disgustingly lengthy and made the big biker’s stomach turn as Dr. Peyton scrolled down the screen, the man’s voice almost dead as he itemized everything that had been discovered in their exams.

  “Wait!” Silo interrupted at one point. “I don’t know what that means.”

  “Which thing?” Dr. Peyton asked, finally turning his eyes to the burly man across from him.

  “The contusion thing on the labia major and minor whatever.”

  He watched as the doctor took a deep breath and then swallowed before he answered. “It reads, ‘deep contusions to both the labia majora and labia minor but with no seminal fluids detected’.”

  “Yeah, that,” Silo agreed with a head tilt. “What the fuck is that?”

  The doctor’s eyes hit his before quickly going back to the screen. “In biker terms? Somebody fucked her. Hard and brutal. But was wearing a glove.”

  “Wha-what?” Silo stuttered, his mind completely blanking at the thought, of knowing how Shelly liked her sex. And there was not a fucking ounce of brutal in any of it. “Do you think she was raped?”

  “Don’t know,” the doctor murmured. “But the bruising of both her pussy and thighs suggests it’s in the realm of possibility.”

  Silo’s brain whirled as he tried to grasp the concept of someone, some unknown fucker, forcing themselves on her.

  “And that probably accounts for the bladder infection she’d had although it looks like Presbyterian got that under control straight away,” Dr. Peyton continued.

  “Did they…” Silo took a deep lungful of air as he tried to put his question into words. “Did they find any other damage? Are her insides okay?”

  “No. According to the notes, they found no evidence of vaginal injury. Just the bruises. And they began a series of antibiotics to work the infection straightaway,” the doctor assured him. Another glance was sent to the big biker before the younger guy, a man raised by the Hellion Motorcycle Club but who’d chosen to go into the medical profession, continued. “As bad as that sounds though, her biggest problems are pneumonia and her ankle.”

  Silo’s eyebrows lifted but he didn’t speak.

  “The pneumonia was bad enough she needed a respirator. But it seems like her ankle was complete out of joint. She may need an operation to get it back into its socket.”

  Fucking hell!

  “Mr. Kettering? Or can I call you Silo?” the doctor called from his place behind his desk once again interrupting Silo’s thoughts. Looking straight into Silo’s eyes, the man began to speak again. “The kind of care your girl needs might not be of the physical kind. Our findings can only tell of what her body went through. There’s a possibility that she has a lot more damage on the inside, emotionally. You might need another sort of doctor for that.”

  Silo understood what he was being told for the second time in as many days. And resolved that he’d call Trey again to see who in Billings could help him find the help Shelly would need to get whole.

  In every way possible.

  On his way out, something had Silo turning back to look at the man that had just recounted all that was wrong with his Shell. “You said you were Hellion raised and your name is Peyton?”

  “Yeah. I’m Zip and Lily’s kid.” As the doctor gave his lineage, Silo could see the resemblance to both his Asian mother and biker dad.

  “Sorry for your loss,” Silo growled. Words of sympathy did not come naturally but since Zip had taken a bullet during some Hellion business that had involved the ATF and some members of the Serbian mob, he felt the need to extend them.

  The other man’s face stilled for a moment before he offered a small, quirked grin. “Just as I am for yours, Silo. The girl you brought in might be gone forever, too.”

  “Not if I have any fucking say in it!” Silo boomed but the medico’s words hit and stuck in one of the places of his heart. Turning away, he left as quickly as was physically possible as if to try and outrun the doctor’s words.

  *.*.*.*.*

  It seemed to take forever for them to get me settled into my room at St. Pat’s Hospital. Or it seemed that way to me in the cotton fog I was wrapped in. A fog I welcomed since it took both the pain and the memories away. All except for the memory of Silo showing up. Coming to my rescue, even if that rescue meant going back to Missoula.

  The last time I’d been in town, it’d been for Lulu so I’d seen first-hand how good the hospital and its staff were in caring for their patients. No, my concern was with keeping my sister well away from the continuing mess that surrounded our father and what he’d done. Of how our name no longer had the same cachet in a town full of people that now made a point of snubbing me and anything to do with the Palmers.

  She didn’t need to be a part of it and I’d taken on the responsibility to ensure neither her or my assets were tangled up in his, only keeping her up-to-date either by phone or by email. And kept her in the dark on how very much my lifestyle had changed, even though I managed to keep up appearances that all was more than okay.

  “How’s she doing?” I heard Silo deeply growl and struggled to open my eyes. Since he’d come to me, we’d only shared a handful of words but I didn’t need them. Not if he was around. I knew after only spending only a few hours together months ago that the burly, bald biker wouldn’t let anything bad happen to me. Not if he was alive to help it. As Lulu said, Silo was the Hellion guard dog.

  “Steady,” I heard a woman’s voice reply. My eyelids felt like they were weighted and seemed to refuse my mental command. “She’s pretty drugged from the flight but should be coming around soon.”

  At the word ‘flight’, I found a memory of waking up on an airplane with another man yelling to another about the turbulence. I’d been scared but once I’d heard Silo’s deep voice telling me he was there, I’d immediately dropped back into my warm, drugged cocoon.

  There was the sound of a chair being scooted across the floor and a squeak as if something heavy had been placed in it. “Is it okay if I stick around until she does?”

  “Sure, Mr. Kettering. Take all the time you need.”

  Since my eyes didn’t want to work, I parted my lips in the hope of letting him know I was awake with my words. “Ah’m here.”

  “Shell? You awake, pretty girl?” His voice, that big, booming cannon of a voice was like music to me.

  “Yeah.” I couldn’t seem to get any volume more than a whisper to come out of my mouth. “Water?”

  There was the light scratch of plastic against my lips and I opened my mouth, using my tongue to grab at the straw before sucking to get at the much needed liquid. Even though it wasn’t as cold as I would’ve liked, its wetness was a blessing all on its own.

  “Not too much, Shell. That’s it, go slow,” he encouraged and it was his soft tone that finally helped me raise my eyelids just so I could look to see if his expression was equally as gentle.

  It was.

  “Hi, Si,” I mumbled around the straw in my mouth.

  “Hey, Shell,” he greeted back, his mouth quirked in a one-sided grin and his eyes dead on mine. Today they were
a stormy gray color instead of the bluey-gray I remembered. But Silo’s eyes changed color with his emotions. Or at least they used to.

  “Thanks for coming for me.” It was getting easier to talk the more I did it.

  “Told you I would,” he reminded, easing the straw out of my mouth and refilling the plastic glass. When his eyes dropped to his hands instead of staying on mine, I felt a small emptiness at the broken connection. “You know where you are, right?”

  “Missoula, Montana. Saint Patrick’s Hospital.”

  “You got it.” He was fiddling with the lid of the little jug of water as he spoke. “Doc says you’re gonna be released later today. Then, pretty girl, I can take you home.”

  I swallowed and felt the lump that had immediately formed at his words. “I’m afraid to go home, Si.” His eyes shifted back to mine as his brows came together.

  “No, Shell. Not Albuquerque. My place here in Missoula.” His explanation took some of the deep fear that had bloomed at the thought of going back and I heard the beeping of one of the monitors slowing as I calmed at his correction. “You’re gonna need some fucking down time, girl, in order to get back to good. My place ain’t the Sheraton but it’ll work for a bit, yeah?”

  There was a shyness evident as he asked and I saw his cheeks take on a rosier hue even if he didn’t hold my gaze. “I don’t know, Si’. I mean, I know I need to get better but wouldn’t a hotel work just as good?”

  “Doc says you’ll need help the first few days.” His hand snagged mine and though I didn’t look at our entwined fingers since I was still staring at his face, the contact soothed me. “Need you to consider getting Lulu involved, though.”

  All the calm I’d just managed to find fled at his suggestion. I didn’t want my sister involved. She’d already been hurt by our dad’s schemes and I vowed she’d never be touched by it again. She was in a good place, living with a man she both loved and respected, had an awesome job and more friends than either one of us had ever had before. I didn’t want her to lose any of that because our father was a greedy and power-hungry piece of crap who didn’t give a tinker’s damn if we got hurt as a result of his plans. And hurt on every level whether it was through the loss of our former friends or the lack of money that used to flow like water. “No, Silo. Not Lulu. Not yet. But I need to let the man from the FBI know where I am.”

  His fingers squeezed mine and I saw his eyes drift to a point just over my shoulder before he nodded. But that nod told me in no uncertain terms how much he didn’t like my answer. “Okay, princess. No Lulu, but you’ll call the feds to tell them where you are. That fucking works. For now.”

  His eyes came back to mine and his mouth did another half-smile only this time the smile reached his eyes that were now more blue than gray. “They had me filling out a lot of goddamn forms but I didn’t get far. So you have that to fuckin’ look forward to. Aaannnddd…” He reached to the table for a piece of pre-printed paper before pulling a pen out of his jean pocket. “In case you aren’t released this afternoon, you have some major decisions to make before I leave.”

  I felt confused by the sudden change in his demeanor that had gone from serious to playful in mere seconds.

  “So what’ll it be, girl? Green or red gelatin for your first solid meal in Missoula?”

  *.*.*.*.*

  FBI field agent, Dave Moore, replayed the voicemail for a second time, only on that listening he closed his eyes, imaging her full lips as she spoke the words.

  ‘Mr. Moore? This is Shelly Palmer. I, uh, I mean. I’m sorry I had to miss our appointment but something…happened. I do need to speak with you. At the moment I’m in a hospital in Missoula, Montana and will be here until at least Friday. Please call me at…’

  He stopped the recording before she gave the number. He didn’t need it since he had no plans to call her back. No, the next conversation he had with Michelle Vivian Palmer was going to be face to face−something he’d missed in the two and a half weeks she’d been gone.

  Gone from her condo and her work at the different Palmer charities and events that he knew were what she considered her ‘job’.

  Gone from him!

  And even though he had a myriad of resources that he’d used to try and find her, she’d disappeared without a trace, completely off the grid: no credit card charges, no withdrawals from her bank accounts. Even her car was still missing from its parking space at the swanky downtown building that had housed her condo.

  How or what had taken her back to Missoula? As far as he knew, her silly sister was keeping her head down and enjoying the life the stupid twit had carved out for herself in that backwater town. With Lucille out of the way, Michelle had seemingly gotten back to normal as soon as she’d stepped foot back in Albuquerque, going back to her expensive life without pause.

  A life he wanted. Had always wanted with its circles of influence and power.

  And that Michelle, or Shelly as she liked to call herself, was going to bring him into. Oh, yes. She’d ditch that ridiculous name as soon as possible. Shelly was a name for an air-head. Michelle spoke of class and breeding both of which the woman had in spades. Not only was she gorgeous, but she had all the subtle graces, mannerisms and perfection that only the truly rich used. Things she would teach him in order to give him credence with the people who didn’t normally look at him twice as if they knew that he’d grown up in a home with too many kids and not enough money.

  Well, he’d show them! With Michelle on his arm and sufficient money between them to ensure neither of them would ever have to work again, he knew they’d be the power-couple amongst those in her world. A marriage that would be the envy of everyone. Or those that mattered, anyway.

  David hit save in order to keep the voicemail, knowing he’d be listening to it again and again, only mentally adding words like, ‘darling’ or ‘sweetheart’ to make it much more personal. He might even listen to it on his way to the airport in order to catch a flight to Missoula.

  Where the rest of his life, the one person who could kick-start his ‘real’ life, was waiting for him.

  Chapter Four

  Slipping into his normal chair around the huge oval table in the conference room at Hellion Construction, Silo cast his eyes over the other managers who were also his Hellion MC brothers, noting their looks of shock.

  “What?”

  “Just didn’t expect to see you back so soon, amigo,” Trey explained before opening up the manila folder laid out before him. “Got things worked out?”

  Silo squirmed as he tried to think of a way to explain without giving any details. “Yeah. Kinda. I’ll fucking be in and out over the next few days, though.”

  “Aw, cough it up, Si’. You know you’re gonna tell us anyway. Why not do it now and just get it the fuck over with?” Dare goaded with a laugh.

  “Am gonna be pissed if I hear some fuckin’ shit has gone down after the fact, dickhead,” Huff cautioned. “Real fuckin’ pissed.”

  Silo glanced around the table, trying to get a read on each man before he caught Brand’s citrine-colored gaze. “Does this have to do with the phone call you received the other day?”

  Shit! There was no help for it. He was gonna have to tell them what was doing even though he didn’t have the complete picture himself. “This can’t go no fucking farther than this room, dig?”

  There were a couple of ‘sures’ and ‘okays’ with nods which Silo took as pledges of honor. “And you can’t fucking tell Hardwood because it can’t get back to Lulu!”

  “If you don’t keep your fuckin’ voice down, it won’t be anyone of us breaking the fuckin’ cone of silence, dude.” Bishop looked as if he was trying to keep a smile at bay, but Silo thought the man looked pale and a bit green around the gills as if he was again nursing a fucking huge hangover. “Lu’s just down the fuckin’ hall, yeah?”

  Dropping his voice, Silo told them of the phone call from Sharpels and of getting to Albuquerque. Of seeing Shelly in her hurt state and what the do
ctor’s had found. Like him, the other men had a hard time with the roll call of injuries, of what had been done to the beautiful woman. “They said her prognosis is good but she might fucking need a shrink to sort her internal shit out.”

  “No doubt,” Dare murmured, running his fingers over his fu-man-chu mustache that ran down to his chin. “You don’t know who…”

  “Nope, and she ain’t talking,” Silo confirmed, cutting off the rest of whatever Dare had been going to ask. “She didn’t even give the folks in New Mexico her real motherfucking name.”

  Trey eased himself back into his chair and rested a foot on the opposite knee. “What’s the doing then?”

  Silo shrugged, opening his hands on the tabletop in a gesture that clearly said he didn’t know. “Taking her to my place to recoup, I guess. She don’t wanna go back to Albuquerque and she don’t want Lulu to know. Doc says she’s gonna need help for a while, plus there’s the whole possible head-shrink thing…” He let his voice trail off because he didn’t know what else there was to say.

  The silence in the room was abruptly interrupted by Bishop shoving back his chair and running to the door. “’Scuse!” was the call that came from over his shoulder.

  “What the fuck? Again?” came Huff’s growl. The brother was a stickler for rules and routine, something Silo knew was because of his years in the military. Having a member exit a Council meeting without permission was sure to get a response from the former master sergeant.

  “Dude, has Bish taken on drinking as his new fucking hobby?” Silo couldn’t take his eyes off the open door that was still lightly bouncing against the wall from the force Bishop had used in yanking it open.

  Brand was the one that answered. “He is calling it food poisoning.”

  “Yeah, well, never heard of goddamn food poisoning fucking lasting two goddamn weeks,” Trey rejoined, wiping a knuckle along his goatee. “We’ll give him five but if he’s not back by then, Dare’ll check on him.”