Claimed by the Biker Giant (Maxine and Tank) novel Chapter 257

Cloe POV

It wasn’t so difficult to make my own breakfast; the cook had left plenty here for us to keep us going over the weekend. Apparently, the cook and staff get the weekends off unless something special is going on. My stomach is a lot better today, already not feeling so tight. Not like yesterday, when I could have cried almost every time I moved. I also want something more than soup. Today, Doctor Jaqueline will come to check my wounds and discuss some light exercise. She would be here in about two hours. I took my meds and started to clean the kitchen. There wasn’t much to do; each one cleaned up after themselves. Fixer has them all well-trained. I emptied the dishwasher, put away what I could reach, and left the rest on the bench for when an able-bodied person arrives.

Wheeled myself to the office, sat before my computer, and began my module. If all goes well today, I might get another one completed, leaving only one to go. I am super excited to finish it. The professor was impressed with my work and asked me to complete some additional coding assignments. I love to code, one of our assignments was to try and break into a secure system, I picked the Airforce, and was surprised that I had managed to break the code. and get in, took screen shots and added them to my assignment, got a call for the professor, that I had top marks, and the Airforce wanted to meet me. I was worried I was in trouble, but apparently, they like having their systems hit by students so they can improve. I was the first to break their firewalls in nearly ten years; I was super proud. Not that I could share that with anyone.

It wasn’t long, and I forwarded my assignment. It was super easy, and I started on my final module. I read through it quickly and then started to answer the questions, which weren’t that hard. There were multiple-choice questions, and you chose the right answer. If you read the work, the answers were easy, so I posted that too. I was officially finished with my course, fourteen months early.

A box of phones was sitting on the table to the left, and I hadn’t noticed it till now. I wheeled myself over and started to sort through them. There were all sorts of brands. I began to wonder how different each might be, so I selected one of each, laid them out on the table, rolled myself to my desk, and removed a little toolbox that was perfect for pulling computers apart and should suit phones.

I labelled each phone and grabbed small containers to put the parts in, and systematically pulled them apart. Time flew by, as I got lost in what I was doing. It was interesting what made the phones work. I then put them all back together again, then checked the coding on them; they only had small differences, and I was surprised how much memory they had, a mini computer in your hand. Not all the phones were that good, but most were, and the

camera’s were amazing, there was two brands, whose camera was better then, many single purpose cameras, meaning they were built to be a camera, yet this one, I had in my hand, had a great camera, an app that let you make changes to the pictures, and saved them, it was better then many cameras that I have seen, in photography class. I was so focused on the phone that I forgot about the time, which had gone by in half an hour, and it took over an hour. The loud knock on the door made me jump in surprise.

I wheeled myself over and opened the door; I didn’t remember closing it to come face to face with an angry-looking doctor.

“Did you forget your appointment with me today? Wheel yourself out of here and get this done. I don’t have all day waiting for you to be ready. You should be waiting for me, not the other way around.” She turned on her heels and marched back in the direction of the room we use for me to be examined, a mini doctor’s room, so to speak, or sick bay, as Penny calls it.

“Get on the bed.” I wheeled over to the bed, feeling small, and fighting tears. This was the worst treatment I’ve had since coming here, and I don’t like this doctor. Dotty arrived as I was attempting to get into bed; it was painful trying, and my stomach was hurting a lot.

“Jaqueline, what are you doing? You want Cloe to open all those internal stitches?” Dotty growled angrily at the doctor as she helped me onto the bed.

“Don’t like it, get another doctor.” I have no idea what’s going on, and I don’t like it.

“Leave,” Dotty ordered. The doctor looked at her for a moment, assessing, then at me, sighed and left.

“What happened? She was lovely before.” I asked, unable to stop the tears from falling.

“No idea. Let’s check your wound and get you back in your chair, and I will make some calls.” Dotty removed the bandage, checked the stitches, and pressed lightly on my stomach before rebandaging me and helping me back into the wheelchair.

“Do you need anything for pain?” Dotty asked softly, concern in her eyes.

“No, you arrived in time. The doctor was so rude.” I was still shaken up by the experience.

“Dotty has gone to make some calls, I guess to get a replacement.” I then explained how rude the doctor was and what the doctor wanted me to do. Against all the instructions I had so far, climbing on that bed would have caused not only pain, but also possible internal damage, and Dotty arriving in time to stop me from climbing on unaided.

Storm must have been in the hallway because he was swearing like a trooper, and I think he hit the wall with his fist.

“Leave it with me. Storm comes in here, and close the door.” Storm stomped in, slammed the door, and watching him made me cower. I knew he wasn’t angry at me, but I couldn’t stop myself, a reflex action, from too many times my father acted just like that. I must have whimpered, because Storm turned to look at me, and his eyes widened, and he started to move to me, but I moved back into my chair, instinctively.

Storm stopped and stared, his face chagrined.

“I would never hurt you, Cloe.” That didn’t stop my shaking or the fear running through me.

“Sit, we need to fill Cloe in, whether we like it or not. This has become too dangerous,” Tank added, urging Storm to sit and not approach me.

“We believe your father’s trying to harm you, possibly kill you. We also believe that the accident that took your legs was not an accident, but the driver paid to take you out. Your father hadn’t planned on Storm to arrive and save you. We haven’t worked out why he wants you dead. Did you know that your father was supplying drugs and guns?” Wanting me dead was not a surprise; he had often said one day he would end my life, and I believed him.

“Can I show you something?” My voice is soft and shaky. Tank nodded. I turned to open my laptop, found a spreadsheet I was looking for, and turned my computer screen around.