Zeke (Devil's Flame MC Book 2)

by Romi Hart

  He was grateful Rocky hadn’t given him shit about his appearance, even if he didn’t feel much like thanking the little smart ass. He’d had plenty else to say about Zeke’s condition. He didn’t need the additional razzing about having put on his best jeans and a polo shirt, or about the product in his hair or the baby smooth shave job he’d done. and that reminded him to take the small bottle of cologne out of his pocket and spritz it on his neck and shirt. No way would he have risked one of the boys smelling him all dolled up.

  But he figured he’d probably see Leigh Marks today.

  He sighed to himself as he waited for the automatic doors to open. She was friends with Nancy, his Physical Therapist, and she came down to visit almost every day on break, as far as he could tell. She’d even engaged him once or twice without making a snide remark or scowling at him. He figured it was time to get serious. He’d teased and taunted and been a salacious dick when he was in her ward. The least he could do was show her he had another side.

  Besides, he desperately needed to get laid and didn’t have any other prospects.

  Leigh was a nice distraction, and she’d proven useful in his own fantasies, alone in his bedroom. Or sitting on the couch. Or wherever else the fancy struck. But he needed more. He wanted to touch her, to taste her, to run his fingers through her auburn waves, which were amazingly enticing when she first showed up for work, before she wrapped it up in the Nurse Ratchet bun.

  Her little visits were the only distraction he had from the misery of his situation, and they came at the perfect time. He didn’t mind Nancy; she was funny and took well to his lewd jokes. But she wasn’t attractive. And he hated physical therapy. He ranked it right up there with reciting the apostles and the saints in Catholic school. He’d rather get the ruler across his palms and the paddle across his ass till he bled. There was just something emasculating about PT and feeling like a five year old earning a gold star for taking a step without faltering.

  To make matters worse, he was early, so he couldn’t even immerse himself in the physical activity and pretend he wasn’t surrounded by a bunch of injured and disabled people who probably deserved this far more than he did. There were times that, even with the higher moral standards held by his MC as opposed to the average club, he felt like the scum of the earth. And that had more to do with his own inner demons and his past than it did with his current incarnation.

  But it still rubbed him raw to look around and see a child coming out of surgery after a car accident, or a young woman struggling with a raging case of multiple sclerosis. Here he was, disabled because he stuck his nose where it didn’t belong and looked like a victim at the O.K. Corral. No one else in this room had the blood on their hands he did, and it wasn’t lost on him that Leigh could see through the polished exterior he managed to keep into the depths of his soul, which were just as tainted and despicable as she imagined.

  That was why his usual conquests weren’t exactly Ph.D.’s.

  Rather than staring through the window into the therapy floor, Zeke took a seat heavily in one of the chairs of the lobby outside. He’d feel a little less tormented if he kept himself separate. And when Leigh walked through the door, he’d get an eyeful sooner.

  Nancy came bustling in fifteen minutes late, her few extra pounds giving her a bit of a waddle as she rushed toward him with an apologetic smile. “I’m so sorry, Zeke. My daughter has strep throat, and I had to wait for my husband to get home so she wouldn’t be alone.”

  He held up his hand to halt her apology. “Family first, Nancy. I’m just glad I get to see your angelic face today.”

  She blushed, and he wondered if she was fulfilled at home. Yes, he definitely needed to get laid if he was pondering a quickie with his Physical Therapist. “Well, now that I’m here, we better get started pretty quickly, or you won’t get anything out of our session today.”

  Hoisting himself to his feet with the crutches, he muttered, “You know I hate this shit. I only come for two reasons.”

  She rolled her eyes at him. “I’m aware of that, Zeke. You want to get back on the bike. And we’re getting there. It’s only been a couple of weeks, you know.”

  “You’re forgetting the other reason,” he told her with a wink.

  She chuckled. “You’re just trying to butter me up so I don’t work you so hard.” She held the door for him, and then she led him toward the same area, with a treadmill and two parallel bars used as handrails to practice walking. She motioned to the straightbacked chair he sat in every time he came, and he sat, waiting while she pulled up her own chair across from him and then started unbuckling the brace that fit his foot like a boot and ran up his thigh.

  “Are you getting fresh with me?” he teased.

  She grunted. “I’m not sure that’s possible. As tight as your jeans are, I’m pretty sure you’re restricting blood flow. I told you not to wear jeans for therapy,” she chided.

  “Don’t worry, sweet cheeks. I’ve got basketball shorts on under them.” Once she’d set the brace aside, he bent to remove his boot and then stood carefully, resting most of his weight on the good leg as he slid his jeans down his legs. He grimaced at the sight of his knee, a gnarled, mangled mess of swelling, scars, and melting stitches. The surgery had pinned all the pieces in place, the surgeon joking that he had more shrapnel than a soldier who’d stepped on a land mine now. On the outside, it looked just about as bad, too.

  His ankle was only moderately better. Only a single plate had been inserted there, and it had a relatively small, red line from the single incision. But it was swollen and bruised, looking more like an eggplant than an ankle.

  “You’re healing up nicely,” Nancy commented, and he gave her a skeptical look. She shrugged. “I’m the professional here, and I’ve seen people with less damage still twice as inflamed. Even your scars aren’t bright red anymore.” She gestured toward his stomach as he sat down. “How’s the stab wound?”

  He wished his entire chart didn’t follow him around. But unlike his leg, this wound was healing nicely, even if it still had the phantom sting of the blade in it. He lifted his shirt, wincing at the slight pain still plaguing his ribs. The scar was slightly raised and pink, but otherwise, no one would have known he’d nearly been gutted. He laughed. “Funny how the battle scar I wouldn’t mind is the one that’s going to be a distant memory.”

  Nancy laughed. “Isn’t that how it goes?” Lowering her voice, she added, “Seems that way with sex, too. The best experiences are the ones where you never get a second chance.”

  That made Zeke laugh out loud. Sure, Nancy laughed at his off color humor, but she didn’t typically make inappropriate jokes of her own. It was a bonding moment, and he appreciated it.

  Almost as much as he appreciated the view behind her as the door to the PT room opened. Today, Leigh wore light pink scrubs that made her skin glow, and her dark auburn waves fell around her shoulders in contrast to the pastel. Those pale blue eyes could have been icebergs ready to slice into his jugular and sink his ship for all he cared, as bright and intoxicating as they were.

  He suddenly wished he still had his jeans on, to cover his damaged leg as much as to help control the erection that threatened to make a tent in his shorts. It was easier to hide in denim. He would have pulled the pants into his lap if Nancy wasn’t already gently lifting his leg so that his foot rested in her lap where she would carefully massage and role his ankle to loosen it.

  As she approached, Leigh raised an eyebrow and pointed to his ankle. “I would have expected to find a tracking device there,” she quipped.

  Zeke stared at her. He didn’t know whether to be thrilled she’d addressed him first or offended at her choice of words. Deciding to take the high road, he countered with a crooked smile that belied the pain shooting up his shin as Nancy worked, “It’s on the other foot. You didn’t see my parole officer out there waiting for me?”

  Was that a grin she hid, sucking in her cheeks? “He must have gone to the cafeteria for coff
ee and donuts.”

  Giving her a onceover, Zeke came right back. “He wouldn’t have had to, if he’d known the woman with the sweet buns and the bite in her tone was coming by. He could have saved himself a couple of bucks and some heartburn.”

  Nancy laughed. “If you had a parole officer, this gal would have given him a heartbreak.”

  “Don’t encourage him, Nancy,” Leigh chastised, but there was a spark in her eyes that hadn’t been there before, and if Zeke didn’t know any better, he would think she was enjoying this. “He’ll take advantage of it.”

  “Not without permission,” Zeke threw out, daring her to toy with him some more.

  Shaking her head, Leigh actually let the smile spread over her lips, and Zeke barely managed to stay in his chair. That was the sexiest grin he’d ever seen, with plump lips and sharp cheekbones that begged for his touch. Her eyes danced as she said, “You know, Mr. Austin, you catch more flies with honey. You talk about needing permission, but you haven’t even issued a polite invitation, as far as I can remember. Calling me ‘Nurse Curvy’ is not asking for permission.”

  He saw Nancy swallow a laugh, but she kept completely silent, bowing out of the conversation completely. Zeke appreciated that gesture, especially as he tried to figure out if he’d passed out from pain and slipped into an alternate universe in his head. It sounded like Leigh was daring him to ask her out.

  She stood there, looking like she expected something, and for the first time in his life, Zeke was speechless. He sat, with Nancy no longer moving and working his ankle as she, too, seemed to hold her breath for the next move.

  Well, since this seemed to be his fantasy, he might as well go for it. “I see,” he told her, pretending to think it over. “Well, would it be better if I asked you what time you got off tonight and asked you to join me for a cup of coffee? That way, I can get to know you and come up with equally cute but less offensive names for you?”

  Leigh blushed, and he sat up a little straighter, anticipation driving him crazy. Narrowing her eyes at him, she said, “I suppose, if you asked me out for coffee, it would be a more polite gesture.”

  “In that case, Nurse Marks, what time does your shift end? And would you allow me the pleasure of your company for a cup of coffee?”

  She giggled, and Zeke let it roll down his spine like a refreshing waterfall after a drought. “I’m off at eight. Get my number from Nancy and text me when you get here. I’ll meet you out front around fifteen after.” With that, she turned and strode away, not even saying goodbye to Nancy.

  “You have a silver tongue, don’t you, cowboy?” Nancy asked, humor lacing her tone.

  With a mischievous chuckle he asked, “Silk, actually. I’ll show you, if you want.”

  She smacked his leg playfully, laughing so hard her breasts bounced. “You’re incorrigible.”

  “Yes, but it got me the date I’ve been working on since I landed in this hospital,” he pointed out. If things went his way tonight, he’d end up satisfying his cock’s craving for the pretty little nurse that had been lodged in his thoughts and tormenting him immensely.

  “That’s true,” she relented. “Come on, it’s time to walk the walk.” She handed him one of his crutches to help him get up and then motioned toward the handrails. This was the worst part of his therapy. Sure, two joints in his leg had all but been replaced. He had to learn to use them properly. But to have to start back at the beginning, like he was eleven months old again, was just humiliating. And to think, he could have been doing this already when Leigh came in! he sure as hell wasn’t going to talk her into his bed if she saw him struggling like this, just to stay on his feet.

  Good thing he wasn’t looking to sweep her off hers.

  “Good work,” Nancy commented, and Zeke realized he’s already walked the length of the bars without thinking about it. Normally, he struggled more with the idea of others watching him and seeing his weakness, but again, Leigh had provided him with enough distraction to move quickly and without being self conscious. “Come on back.”

  He turned, the hardest part of the exercise since he had to manage to do so without twisting his knee, and started back, suddenly feeling like a damn woman as he thought about what he would wear this evening and where he would take Leigh out of the hundreds of local coffee joints.

  “I would tell you to get your head out of the clouds and focus, but it seems to help,” Nancy laughed as he approached her. “One more time back and forth, and then we’re moving on.” He completed the exercise and sat down while Nancy helped him push the limits of the joint’s ability to bend and stretch. It had to move a little further every day until he had full motion control.

  “Hey, Nancy, you don’t happen to know what her favorite type of flower is, do you?” he asked, finally giving up on getting his mind to come back to the present.

  Rolling her eyes up to meet his gaze, Nancy eyed him with a very serious expression, a little warning tucked into it. “She likes lilies, but I wouldn’t show up with those if I were you. Try orchids instead. No roses, though. They’re too cliché.”

  He beamed at the woman. “Thanks. I appreciate the head’s up.” He wondered why Leigh wouldn’t want someone to bring her a bouquet of flowers she enjoyed, but he wasn’t going to press his luck here and ask for more.

  “Do me a favor, Zeke,” Nancy said, sitting up straight and releasing his leg. He frowned at her in question, and she pointed a finger at him, jabbing toward his chest as he spoke. “Leigh is my friend. Don’t hurt her.”

  Feeling a bit sheepish, which was kind of new to him since he didn’t usually think about the aftermath of a one night stand, he held his hands up in surrender. “It’s just coffee, Nancy.”

  She gave him a challenging look. “And the Civil War was just a backyard disagreement. Don’t play games with me, Zeke. I know you’re type, and I’m not talking about the cut you wear. I’m talking about you and your conquests.” She jabbed the finger again. “So help me, if you hurt her, I will make sure you suffer every time you come in for therapy. And I’ll refuse to sign you out until I feel you’ve paid for your mistakes.”

  She wasn’t kidding, and Zeke knew it. He wasn’t exactly afraid of her, but he knew she meant business. Sobering up, he nodded. “Yes, ma’am. I promise not to hurt her.” Unless she asks me to, he added silently, wondering how exactly he was going to convince Leigh Marks to go from a cup of coffee in a public place to a very private encounter in his bedroom.

  But he fully intended to do so, whatever it took. And he’d find a way to let her think it had all been her idea, too. She wasn’t stupid, and he would have to work hard to skirt her intuition. But if anyone had the skills and the experience to work it out, he did.

  4

  The day had gone by in a frenzy of emergencies, two of her patients coding and another suffering a blood clot in his leg that had him writhing in pain as his circulation failed completely. And still, she sat across from Ezekiel Austin, at a coffee shop, with an iced latte in front of her.

  She’d asked for it. After avoiding him for the rest of his stay in the hospital, Leigh had managed to wrangle into his file and get his physical therapy schedule. When she discovered he’d be seeing Nancy, it had been a blessing and a curse. She liked visiting her friend on the way in every day, and it gave her an excuse to see him when she came in. It also meant she would be tempted to do just that.

  And she had, engineering her visits with Nancy to coincide with his appointments and easing into flirtatious banter with him until she’d blatantly told him to ask her out. She was insane.

  And she didn’t plan on sharing this with Rory, who would first give her hell and then ask for details.

  So far, the conversation had been light and easy. She’d teased him about his leg brace and the fact that she’d had to drive, and he’d come right back with quips about her alpha personality and how insulted she would be if she didn’t feel in control of the situation. He was right about that. And at this moment, as the
coffee drained to the bottom of the cups, she felt wildly out of control.

  “Tell me what exactly happened to your leg,” she asked as the back and forth fell flat. It looked like nerves were starting to get the best of Zeke as well. “And why you were stabbed. I heard some of what the rest of the…bikers were saying about it, but I didn’t pay a lot of attention.”

  He grunted. “I was holding my post, alone, and two men ambushed me. We were supposed to be making a trade, and they doublecrossed our crew.” He shook his head, looking grim. “I wasn’t doing anything wrong, for the record.”

  She sighed. She hadn’t meant to dampen the mood or insult him. Or maybe she had. Because staring at those silvery gray eyes, which seemed so sincere and full of joy, and wanting to run her hands through his sandy blonde hair again had transitioned to her palms itching to splay across his broad chest and her fingertips twitching at the thought of tracing his muscles. The heat was building inside her, and she had to do something to soothe the flames before she did something crazy.

  “You want to get out of here?” she asked.

  Too late.

  She winced internally, wondering why the hell she had made that offer. After all, she knew without a doubt that, if she got in the car with no other destination, she’d drive home and invite him in. And if she called it a night and took him home, he’d invite her in, and she’d accept the offer. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt like she needed someone, and the sexual vibe that had hit her early on, despite her aversion to bikers, was stronger than ever right now.

  Maybe it was his outfit. He had his cut with him, but it was draped over the chair behind him. He was clad in a simple royal blue button down and those painted on jeans that showed off an ass she hadn’t seen before, since he’d always been seated or bedridden. The total effect was intoxicating, despite the brace that obscured the fit of the jeans on his leg.