Iron Will: Lords of Carnage: Ironwood MC

by Loveling, Daphne

  It’s only in the seconds after Dante shoots the second traitor that I realize the gunfire outside has stopped. I haul myself to my feet, favoring my left leg. The wound is burning now, and my ass is starting to go numb, but the leg itself is at least supporting my weight.

  Dante calls over to me. “You okay?”

  “Yeah.” I lift my chin toward Chaco. “We gotta get him some help.”

  I raise my gun and consider shooting the asshole I knocked out, but figure we’re better off getting as much information out of him as we can before ending him. Limping, I go to the doorway and yell out for Axel. His voice comes back a second later.

  “We’re clear,” he shouts.

  “We need some help here!” I call back. “Chaco’s down!”

  Fifteen minutes later, the Dos Santos cartel has hauled off the traitor I punched out — no doubt taking him somewhere to extract as much intel out of him as possible before shooting the motherfucker. A doc has arrived — a large, rotund man who takes one look at Chaco and shoos us all out of the back room except for a few of Chaco’s men. By now my ass is burning from the gunshot wound, but I’ve figured out it’s just a surface wound and fairly clean, so it ain’t as bad as it could have been. Axel sends Mal in to the doc to grab some bandages and a shot of something to numb the pain.

  “You good to ride, brother?” Axel asks me as Mal comes back.

  “Yeah,” I grit out. “I’ll be okay. Just need to patch this shit up.”

  “Well, I ain’t doin’ it,” Mal jokes. “I ain’t gettin’ any closer to your hairy ass than I have to.”

  “You dream of that shit,” I fire back. “Just give me the goddamn stuff and let me do it myself. It’ll be good enough until I can have Reno take a look at it when I get back.” Reno’s our resident medical guy. He was a medic in Afghanistan, and the fucker knows his shit.

  I’m getting ready to hobble off to the bathroom to tape myself up when something occurs to me.

  “Hey, where’s the old guy?” I frown, nodding toward the front register where the owner was sitting earlier.

  Dante’s lip curls. “The guards Chaco had posted outside the restaurant caught him runnin’ away before the attack.”

  “Jesus.” I shake my head. “He was in on it, too. Goddamnit.”

  “Yeah,” Axel agrees, disgusted. “Safe to say, that’s the last time he’ll betray the Dos Santos cartel. Or anyone else.”

  20

  Laney

  Rourke is gone when I wake up the next morning.

  At first, I think maybe he’s just gotten up before me. But as I lie in bed, the silence in the house tells me he’s not here. And when I finally raise myself up to a sitting position, I see his clothes are gone as well. The imprint of his head on the pillow next to me is the only indicator that last night wasn’t a dream.

  Well, that, and the pleasant soreness between my legs.

  He didn’t leave a note or anything. Nothing to say when he left, or why. As I haul myself up out of bed and start my morning routine, I try to tell myself that’s a good thing. I mean, what was I expecting him to say? Laney, you’re the love of my life, I’ll count the seconds until I can come back and sweep you away to our new life together?

  I mean, that’s just silly.

  Would I even want him to say that?

  What do I want, anyway?

  It’s safe to say my feelings about last night are confused. On the one hand, I have to be honest — sex with Rourke Powers was the best I’ve ever had. Even the frenetic first time, pushed up against the wall of my living room, ranks among the all-time best orgasms I’ve ever had. And then, the second time…

  My face flames at the memory. Oh my God. I had no idea it could feel like that. Hard, and soft, and frantic, and slow. I always laughed at that ridiculous expression, The earth moved. But honestly?

  After last night, I sort of get it.

  I wonder over my morning cup of coffee whether I’m even going to see Rourke again. The thought that I might not sends a pang of alarm through my chest. But realistically, there’s no reason I would. Is there? I mean, we aren’t dating. We aren’t even exactly friends. More like two opponents who united around a common enemy. Last night was just a victory celebration. A victory celebration with mind-blowing sex, yes. But I’m pretty sure that’s all it was.

  And that’s probably all it should be. I’m hardly Rourke’s type. Granted, I don’t know what his type is, exactly, but I’m guessing it’s more like Cyndi. Leggy. Busty. Looking like she’d be perfect as a model at a Harley show.

  I’m just Laney the social worker. As he makes sure not to let me forget.

  On the ride to work, I’m still trying to talk myself into thinking it’s okay if last night was the end of Rourke and me. But the fact that I have literally been thinking about him for every single second since I woke up tells me it’s going to be tough to shove him out of my head.

  It’s been a long time since I pined after a boy — since my freshman year of college to be exact, when my secret crush Jim Iocca got drunk at an off-campus party and kissed me, then proceeded to ignore me for the entire rest of the year. I was a ridiculous mess about it, following him around and just “happening” to show up at places I knew he would be.

  I refuse to be such a weirdo about this thing with Rourke. You’re a strong, mature woman, I chide myself. Besides, we’re from two different worlds. You’re not his type, and he’s not yours.

  The thing is, though… Rourke? He may be a biker. And he may have scared the crap out of me the first time I met him. The world may look at him like he’s a lowlife, or a criminal.

  But he’s a better man than most men I know. Including my senator father.

  If my parents met Rourke, they would be horrified by him. They would lose their minds if he and I got together.

  But Rourke Powers is worth ten of Rodney Hart.

  Whatever happened between us last night may already be over. I don’t know.

  But if I’m honest with myself, I don’t want it to be.

  * * *

  “You’re in a good mood,” Katie says, furrowing her brow.

  “Am I?” I reply breezily.

  “Yes.” She cocks her head at me. “You’re less uptight than usual.”

  “Um… thanks?” I guess I should be offended, but I just laugh.

  “You know what I mean. You’re…” Katie waves her hand around at me. “You’re not walking like you walk. All buttoned up and professional. You…” Her eyes widen. “You look like you got laid.”

  I laugh again, but this time it sounds forced, even to me.

  “Oh, come on,” I scoff. “That’s ridiculous. People don’t actually look different after they’ve had sex. That’s just a thing people say in the movies.”

  “Uh, I guess it’s not just a thing they say in the movies,” she smirks, crossing her arms and giving me a knowing stare. “Because you are blushing! So don’t give me that B.S. Girl, you. Got. Laid.”

  Shit. I can keep lying, but Katie’s on this like a dog with a bone now. I know her well enough to know she’s not going to let up. So I pull in a deep breath and roll my eyes.

  “People have sex, Katie,” I sigh, trying for a stop-making-such-a-big-deal-out-of-nothing tone. “Though I’m not exactly happy to learn that I walk like I have a stick up my butt.”

  “So, who is it?” Katie presses, ignoring me. “You didn’t mention meeting anyone or going on any dates recently. And, you don’t have a social life. So where did you find this guy?”

  “Okay, seriously? Is this Insult Laney Day?”

  “Oh, come on,” she snorts. “You’re the first to admit your social calendar is basically nonexistent. The only place you even come into contact with people of the opposite sex is here at the hospital. And…” Katie trails off, and then her eyes practically pop out of her head.

  “It’s the biker, isn’t it?” she breathes.

  “Katie…”

  “It is! Oh, my God!” She stares at me i
n shock. And not the good kind of shock. “Oh my God, Laney!” she repeats, her voice rising. “I mean, I know he kissed you in the coffee shop, but I figured you’d come to your senses before…” She shakes her head. “Good lord, are you crazy?”

  “It was just one date,” I protest.

  “‘Date’!” she snorts. “For God’s sake, Laney, you don’t know a single thing about him!” Katie flings her hands in the air. “What is wrong with you? God, you basically live like a nun for as long as I’ve known you, and now this? Talk about going to extremes! How can you have just done everything you can to get Mickey away from Bethany and Paisley, and then fall into the arms of a man who’s probably ten times more dangerous?”

  My cheeks flame with indignation. “Katie, that is absolutely ridiculous.”

  “How do you know?” She reaches up and points a finger at my face. “How do you know? You think this biker thing is just an act? You think he collects stamps for a hobby, or something?”

  “I just do,” I shoot back, sounding lame even to myself. But it’s true. Somehow I do.

  I have no doubt he could be dangerous as hell, to the person who got on his wrong side.

  But I also know deep down, there’s a kindness to him. And he always holds the door open for me. And he’s told me about how hard he tried to protect his sister from their father.

  I don’t feel comfortable sharing any of that with Katie, though. It would feel like I was betraying a confidence, somehow.

  “He’s not…” I cast about for the right words. “He’s not like that. Come on, Katie, think! Rourke is the whole reason his club stood guard outside Paisley’s room to keep her safe. What kind of person would do that, if he didn’t have a heart?”

  “Holy moly,” she breathes. “You’ve got it bad.” She starts to shake her head in disbelief, but then stops to stare at me, eyes wide. “Wait — is this why you roped me into your crazy plan?” Katie cries, then claps a hand over her face. She continues, her tone lower but clearly furious. “Is this why you wanted me to help you with ‘the thing’?” she challenges me. “Because you wanted to impress Rourke?”

  “No! God!” I grab her arm and pull her into a side hallway. “You know why I did that! I wanted to help Paisley and Bethany! And it worked, didn’t it? Like a charm!”

  “For you, maybe!” she retorts. “But guess who wants to see me in his office later, to ‘ask me some questions’ about how Mickey managed to corner me in the med closet?”

  My eyes widen.

  “Shit,” I hiss. Blake.

  Somehow, it hadn’t occurred to me that he’d feel the need to investigate this. Not since Mickey got caught, and no drugs actually ended up getting stolen.

  “Maybe it’s just a formality?” I ask, feeling sick.

  Katie shakes her head, clearly worried. “I don’t know. But he made it clear he wanted to, and I quote, ‘get to the bottom of this.’” She puts air quotes around the phrase.

  “What bottom?” I protest. “It’s over! It’s not your fault Mickey followed you and tried to rob the hospital?”

  “Isn’t it?” Katie asks, shooting me a pointed look.

  Oh, God. “No. It’s not,” I say softly. “It’s mine.”

  “Laney, what if he isn’t satisfied by my answers?” Katie asks, her voice starting to rise again. “What if he decides he needs to make an example of me, for the rest of the hospital?”

  “He wouldn’t fire you, Katie,” I insist. “You’re one of the best nurses Morningside has. He’d be a fool to lose you.”

  “You know he does weird stuff all the time, Laney!” She grips my arm, her features strained like she’s trying not to panic. “He’s not rational when he feels like he’s got something to prove! I can’t lose my job!”

  “I know,” I murmur. Katie’s a single mom to a little boy with special needs and a raft of health problems. She need the benefits, and the money. She has no safety net. My stomach churns at the possibility that she could be fired.

  “I never should have gone along with your ridiculous plan,” Katie mutters, shaking her head. “It was a crazy thing to do, Laney! I should have known better. I should have realized your judgment was clouded because of that biker!”

  I open my mouth to shoot back a retort, but then close it again.

  Is Katie right that my judgment was clouded because this was Rourke’s idea? I didn’t think so before. But now, with Katie potentially in trouble, I honestly don’t know.

  “Katie, listen!” I say, grabbing her hand. “I swear, this will not come down on you. If push comes to shove, tell Blake — I don’t know, tell him anything!” I think quickly. “Tell him I was the one who told Mickey he could get drugs by following you into the med closet! If he comes and asks me, I’ll admit it. I’ll fall on the sword.”

  She stares at me. “You’d do that for me?”

  “Absolutely.” I don’t even hesitate. “This is completely my fault. Throw me under the bus if you have to. Tell him you had your suspicions, and I admitted it when you confronted me. Make it sound like you were the one who figured it out. Make sure he realizes you’re the one bringing him the guilty party, okay? Then when he calls me in, I’ll admit everything. The worst you would get is a slap on the wrist.”

  “But — but then you’d lose your job!” she cries. “And you might never be able to work at a hospital again.”

  “I don’t care,” I say firmly. “I’d find another job. This is on me, Katie. Like you said, I talked you into this whole thing. If anyone gets punished for it, it should be me.”

  I spend the next few minutes extracting a promise from Katie that she’ll tell Blake I’m the guilty one if she has to. It only partly alleviates how sick I feel that I got her involved in this in the first place.

  But at this point, it’s all I can do.

  Shaken and antsy after my conversation with Katie, I decide to go down to the coffee shop — because of course, pouring caffeine over my already rattled nerves is the mature response to my problem. I’m hoping a fancy coffee with lots of sugar and whipped cream will be just the comfort and distraction I need.

  I decide to take the stairs down instead of the elevator, to at least get a little more exercise to offset the decadence. Pushing the fire door open on the first floor, I turn toward the main entrance, and head through it toward the wing with the coffee shop. I’m completely lost in my own thoughts as I order the most decadent coffee drink I can think of, and watch the barista put extra whipped cream on it. My teeth practically hurt just from thinking about all the sugar I’m going to consume, but dammit, I deserve this right now.

  After paying for my mocha, I head back down the hallway, on autopilot except for the single sip of creamy goodness I allow myself before I’m back inside my office. The bustle of late afternoon in the front atrium is so familiar to me that I barely pay any attention to the figures milling back and forth.

  Which is why I almost don’t register the bloodied, limping figure as it comes through the entrance and heads toward me.

  When I finally do see who it is, my jaw practically drops to the floor.

  “Oh, my God, Rourke!” I gasp. “Holy shit! What in the hell happened to you?”

  21

  Rourke

  The ride back to Ironwood hurts like a motherfucker, but I’ll live.

  When we get back to town a couple of hours, I stop off at the clubhouse with the rest of the brothers just long enough to have Reno verify that the bullet I took just grazed my ass.

  Then I get back on the bike and head straight for Morningside Hospital.

  Turns out, I don’t even have to go to Laney’s office to find her. I see her almost as soon as I push through the doors. She’s walking through the main lobby atrium area, probably on her way to her office, a massive to-go cup from the coffee shop in one hand. I’m just about to call her name when her eyes fall on me.

  “Oh, my God, Rourke!” she gasps, almost dropping the cup. She practically runs to me. “Holy shit! What in the
hell happened to you?”

  “I think that’s the first time I’ve heard you swear,” I joke.

  “Well, it’s warranted.” Laney’s eyes are wide with shock. “Look at you! What happened?”

  The sudden paleness of her skin makes her lips look all the more pink and pillowy. My cock snaps to attention despite the pain I’m in.

  I mean, this gunshot ain’t that big a deal — I don’t look that bad — but it kind of does something to me that she cares.

  “Uh, just a little accident,” I shrug.

  “Accident?”

  “I got shot. But it’s nothing. Just a flesh wound.”

  “Shot?” she cries. A couple people in the atrium look over. Laney shakes her head and lowers her tone. “What do you mean, shot?” she asks in alarm.

  “Like, someone fires a gun, and…”

  “Oh, my God, you are not going to joke about this, are you?” She looks at me like I’m nuts. “You know what? Forget it. Let’s get you over to patient admissions,” she murmurs, coming close and putting a hand on my arm. My dick jolts again at the contact with her, but I ignore it.

  “What?” I ask, confused, and then start laughing. “Laney, I ain’t here to check in.”

  She blinks. “You have got to be kidding me.”

  I snort. “Darlin’, if I checked into the hospital every time I got a scratch, I’d be in here all the damn time. And believe me, this is just a scratch.”

  “Good lord,” she groans. “I suppose I don’t want to know what happened that someone actually shot at you. Though, you are annoying enough that it doesn’t take all that much imagination.”

  I take it as a good sign that she’s giving me shit. “Is that any way to talk to the man who helped you get Mickey out of the picture?” I protest.

  She stares up at me and cocks her head. “Between Bear getting stabbed and you getting shot, I’m starting to think staying far away from you is a really good idea.”