Claimed by the Biker Giant (Maxine and Tank) novel Chapter 245

Storm POV

I felt Grams stiffen at my accusation, but she didn’t try to leave my lap. My had still drawing circles on her, and gently rocking side to side. Today, Grams has understanding; tomorrow, she might not know who I am. It hurts.

“Good thinking, will call my man now, excuse me.” Gramps stood and walked over to the window, looking out as he spoke orders on his phone. He had one hand on the window, leaning against it. He was just holding it together. He might not have known Cloe for long, but her act had changed him, made him feel more responsible for her.

“Do you really think I could have caused this?” Grams managed to speak, her tears drying up.

“Could be, sometimes you are abrasive, and not everyone can handle that. Did you meet new people lately?” I asked, wondering how much she might remember, having been diagnosed with dementia.

“Yes, joined a new card group a month ago, only been a few times, didn’t like the place, so haven’t been back.” Could card-playing ladies be that mean? Would they hate it that much to send a sniper? It sounded so silly to even think such a thing.

Mum and Dad arrived about an hour later, with two bags, one for me, one for Cloe. Dad had five coffees, and a tea for Grams; she actually thanked Dad and didn’t complain about not being in a china cup or Earl Grey tea. Which made Gramps look at Grams with concern, Grams nearly always had some smart comment about tea.

“Any news?” Mum asked, her eyes and nose red raw. She had grown attached to Cloe in the short time she had lived with us. For a woman who had gone through what Cleo had in her short life, she was still full of life and brightened everyone’s day. Quick to have a laugh and fast comebacks that catch most of us by surprise, the quiet, shy girl had been disappearing in front of my eyes, and this new, vibrant one was emerging.

“Nothing yet.” Mum and Grams started to chat, I moved Grams to a chair, so they could have some privacy, well, as much as you could when in the same room. Dad was on his phone, calling in investigators and police, finding out what he could, and pushing them to learn more. Gramps was doing the same from his side. I called Uncle Simon.

“What can I do for you, young man?” He sounded so upbeat and chirpy, felt guilty I was about to spoil that.

“I won’t beat around the bush. There was a shooting at Gramps. Grams was the target. Cloe threw herself against Grams and is in the theater as we speak, still waiting on the results.

Dad and Gramps are on the phone, calling everyone they know to investigate. I know you have doors others can’t open, can you look into it too…please.” I spoke all in a rush and on one breath, afraid speaking about it out loud would cause me to cry, and it had been hard not to when Mum and Grams were crying, churning my insides apart.

“What hospital?” Uncle Simon asked, his voice solemn

“Our local, airlifted here.”

“We found some of his bullets were homemade, with poor-quality material. I would be surprised if the bullet never jammed in the rifle or exploded on him. If he used one of his homemade ones, it may have fragmented when entering Cloe’s body. Do we know where the bullet entered?” Uncle Simon asked as his phone pinged, causing him to lift his phone but not check it, as he waited for an answer.

“Lower back, Cloe lunged herself at Grams, projecting her body to cover Grams. Cloe lost a lot of blood, but we had a nurse on hand who worked on her, got her to the chopper, and instead of going to our local, when the nurse explained what was going on, they suggested here, as they already have Cloe’s medical records. It’s better here anyway.” Gramps was the one to answer, being the only one there at the time.

“I was told she went to the local and then they sent her here. It amazes me how stories get changed and mixed up, reminds me of that game, where you do or say something, then pass it to the next person, but by the end of the chain, the story is nothing like the original one.” I tried to make light of this, but it didn’t get taken as well as I had hoped.

“You’re not wrong. Part of an investigation was to check out all the wrong stories, to find the true one, and that can get frustrating and lead you in the wrong direction; sometimes that was deliberate to send you on the wrong way.” Uncle Simon just finished speaking when the door opened, and our doctor Jacqueline, still in scrubs, entered, looking tired; her scrubs had blood on them, and my eyes zoomed straight to that spot, and my heart reached my throat, and I was tempted to jump out of my body; it thumped that hard. My lips and mouth suddenly dried, and my stomach threatened to bring the coffee back up. My legs felt like jelly, and I risked collapsing to the floor. Mum and Grams’ action had the rest of us moving; it hardened my resolve to be strong.

Like seagulls to a chip, we all stood and rushed the doctor.

“How is she?” Grams called out first; guilt had been her worst companion during all of this.