Sniper | Fallen Angels MC #3

Chapter 7

Hello all! I'm really loving Beatrice, as I've written ahead and...well, you'll see!

TW: Mentions of domestic violence

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My favorite beer had never tasted so good.

I hadn't gone that long without it, to be fair, but this was the best it had ever tasted. Rampage sat to my left, nursing his own beer, and Rooster was talking the bartender's face off.

"I think I'm going to hit the sack early tonight," I glanced at some club whores at the far end of the bar. It was nothing against them—I just preferred the color yellow.

Rampage didn't respond, just nodded, and I clasped Rooster's back with a smirk before going to my room. My bed felt better than my beer when I got back, and I found myself wanting to go to bed early every night now.

The mattress I had bought for myself, instead of the generic, old ones that go in the clubhouse rooms, and it was one of my big treasures.

"Ah," I sighed as I collapsed into bed. I managed to get under the covers before falling asleep and kicking my boots off was the last thing I remember doing. I didn't toss and turn—sleep found me easily that night.

"Sniper...Sniper," someone whispered next to me. I groaned and pushed whoever it was away, thinking it was a woman from the bar trying to climb into my bed.

"Sniper!" I pushed myself up as fast as I could and blinked sleepily at the person standing next to my bed.

Doc?

"What's going on?" My voice cracked.

"Someone came to the clinic, said they know you," he whispered back. My eyes flitted to the clock on my nightstand. Who the hell was here at two o'clock in the morning? There's no way it would be my family...

"I'll be right there," I muttered and rubbed my eyes. My feet slid into my boots sluggishly, not tying them at all, and I glanced at the crutches with distaste before I stood and slowly limped to the clinic.

It was in a small building attached to the clubhouse, opposite the bar. When I turned the knob and opened the door, my knees almost collapsed on the floor.

"B-Beatrice?" I stammered.

I limped forward as fast as I could and rushed into her teary arms. She was sitting on the bed in yellow pajamas of all things and had bruises all over her face and arms. I gripped her shoulders tightly and shook her.

"Sniper," she whispered.

"What the hell happened?" I turned to Jasmine and Doc for answers. Beatrice grabbed the shirt, right around my chest, and clenched it tightly.

"We'll let you guys catch up. She's not allowed to leave," Jasmine said pointedly. Beatrice nodded against my chest as Jasmine and Doc excused themselves.

"Why are you here?" I limped backwards a step and forced her chin up to me. Her bottom lip trembled, and her hands shook while clenching my shirt.

"He—Trevor hit me," Beatrice whispered. "I didn't know where to go. My father adores him, so I couldn't go home, but then I thought of you, and...I'm scared, Sniper."

"It's okay," I tucked her head back into my chest and clenched my eyes shut so I wouldn't do anything drastic. "Are you okay?"

"Scared, scared," she whispered back. I clenched her tighter and called out for Jasmine to enter. She rushed in, looking a little worried, and I quietly explained the situation to her.

"She may be going into shock," Jasmine muttered. She called for Doc and got a needle ready while I tried to get Beatrice to calm down. She wouldn't stop shaking.

"What are you giving her?" I asked Jasmine before she injected her. Beatrice tried to yank herself out of my arms just before Jasmine injected her.

"A small sedative—she'll be out until morning. Step out for a second so I can see the damage," she murmured. I nodded and limped out of the clinic, heading straight for my room. I dug out a yellow t-shirt before calling Pres.

"Pres," he answered gruffly and quietly.

"Can you bring a pair of Maya's pajama pants to the clubhouse? The arms' store's owner's daughter just came into the clinic. Jasmine had to knock her out," I said all in one breath. I could tell I caught him by surprise and had to wait a few seconds for an answer.

"Anything I need to be concerned about?" He asked. I could hear him say something quietly to Queenie in the background before a door shut.

"No, I just need a pair of pants that will fit her." They might be a bit big for Beatrice, but they would fit her better than any of mine.

"On my way," Pres muttered and hung up before I could say anything else. He met me outside the clinic a few minutes later, handed me the pants, and turned back around to go to bed.

The door opened quietly behind me, and Jasmine took the clothes before entering again. I found myself biting my nails in anticipation and nervousness while constantly checking my watch.

Was her family going to be looking for her?

"Hey," Jasmine snapped me out of my thoughts. She closed the door softly behind her as she stepped out of the room.

"How is she?" I whispered.

"Fine. She'll be up pretty early in the morning, and probably a bit panicked. I think it's best if I handle her instead of Doc, so call me if you need me tomorrow," Jasmine pat me on the back a few times and stepped around me, probably to go back to bed.

I cracked open the door and slipped through as quietly as I could, but my boots squeaked on the freshly waxed floor. If Beatrice could have seen me, she would have laughed at the way I was tiptoeing around.

She was resting on the bed, her face much calmer now, in the yellow shirt I had worn to impress her so many weeks ago. Looking at the bruises on her face and neck, where they were much thicker and darker, was extremely difficult to do.

I pulled my phone out and texted Comp to meet me outside of the clinic doors. He would definitely be awake, and I definitely was not leaving her alone.

"On my way." He'd texted back. Word must have gotten around, because Comp didn't just enter the room as we all usually did. Instead, he knocked softly three times.

"Thanks for coming," I cracked the door open. "Can you do some research for me? Beatrice Odison is in here after her boyfriend hit her and choked her—some guy name Trevor," I whispered. He nodded and lifted his grey laptop from where it had been tucked underneath his arm.

"What do you want to know?" He held his laptop on one hand and typed with the other.

"I want him here. He's mine. Make him disappear," I murmured to him. He glanced at me and closed his laptop.

"You got this cleared through Pres?" Comp's brown hair fell into his eyes as he narrowed his eyes at me, clearly hesitant.

"...no."

"Got to clear it through him before I can help," Comp answered. He pointed to his laptop, "This is a dangerous weapon."

"Fuck," I sighed and shut the door quietly before he could say another word.

I wanted that asswipe dead.

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Poor Beatrice :( I want to kick someone's ass!