by Jessica Ames
“I’m fine. I’m sorry.”
“Babe, don’t apologize, but you flinched when I touched you. Did I hurt you?”
I shake my head. “Of course not. I just… Maybe we should slow things down a little.”
I’m starting to feel out of control, like my world is spiraling and I can’t grasp hold of anything and that scares me half to death. I’m a person who needs control in almost everything I do because that’s what I lost after the assault. Hofstadter took that from me and stole that part of myself that once thought I was invincible.
I hate him for that.
I hate him for a lot of things, but especially that. I hate him for stripping away my sense of security and making me feel tainted.
“Go as slow as you need to, Amy.”
Staring at my hands, I feel a sense of shame wash over me. I try to remember what I’d tell the women in my group who have also been sexually harassed or assaulted, but no amount of talking this out is going to change how embarrassed I feel right now. Shane isn’t him. He’s not going to hurt me.
He reaches for the door handle.
“Thanks for the lift home.”
“Ride.”
“Huh?”
“If you’re going to become one of the locals you need to learn to talk like us. We don’t give lifts,” I say in a British accent before dropping back into my usual American, “we give rides.”
“I wish I could give you a ride on my bike. Ain’t anything better than being on the open road.”
“Considering your last encounter with the open road nearly ended with you smeared all over the road, I’ll give it a pass.”
He snorts. “Get dickheads everywhere. Drive too fast, don’t pay attention to the road. In all the years I’ve been riding, that’s the first time I’ve ever laid my bike down. Ain’t looking to do it again.”
“No, I don’t imagine you are.”
He opens the door. See you next week, babe.”
I watch as he jogs across the street, stopping at the gates into the clubhouse to wave at me. I pull away from the curb and head in the direction of home, a smile playing across my lips.
8
Whizz
It’s the night after I went to dinner with Amy and she’s all I can think about. I never thought much about settling down with a woman. I’ve always been a love ‘em and leave ‘em type, but shit with her was so easy I could see a future. That doesn’t scare me as much as it should. Being in the army and then in the club, I never gave much thought to a future and what that might look like, but the idea of an old lady to come home to, kids running around the yard… Yeah, I can see that.
“Ready?” Havoc asks, dragging me from my thoughts.
I need to focus, so I push Amy out of my brain while I focus on the brother.
“Let’s do this.”
Havoc nods. He’s wearing a beanie pulled over his head, a thick jacket on his back and no kutte. I’ve left my kutte in my room at the clubhouse too and I feel fucking naked without it on, but we don’t want to wear anything that might identify us to the police if we’re stopped, or make the plod suspicious. That’s the last thing we need.
I check over the doors on the back of the van, making sure they’re secure then I move up to the passenger side door and climb in while Havoc gets in the driver’s side.
Tonight, we’re making the supply run. Me and Havoc are ready to roll out with the real shipment while some of the other brothers are running a fake load. They don’t know that what they’re moving aren’t the real guns, and while lying to our brothers is not something we take lightly, it’s the only way to get the shit out to Ravage. We have a mole somewhere in Tennessee and with shipments constantly being intercepted, we can’t afford to risk it being lost again. Rav needs these weapons in case our Manchester chapter goes to war. It looked like a possibility just before I left London.
Some of it is pride on Omen’s part too. He won’t want to look weak, like he hasn’t got his club in order and having his shit stolen every time they ride out is definitely making him look weak. The fact I’ve had to come here and get the lay of the land has to have pissed him off too.
But if we have a fox in the hen house, we need to weed him out. A club with a rat in it won’t survive long. Mistrust brews disaster and once the cards start falling the whole house will come down too.
Havoc starts the van up and pulls out of the compound. The other lads left thirty minutes ago, so they should be approaching their destination to make the tradeoff. I have no idea if they’ve been intercepted or not, but I hope not. They’re getting pissed about getting jumped all the time and I know a few of the brothers are packing. A gunfight is the last thing that needs to happen, but it might be inevitable. Either way, I say a quick hail Mary and hope all the brothers come back in one piece. I don’t feel like doing any back-room medicine tonight.
Fingers crossed it doesn’t come to that.
“I don’t like this shit,” Havoc grumbles. “Something feels fucking off.”
He’s right. I thought it was just me feeling the tension, but obviously not. It hangs heavily in the air, smothering us all.
I lean forward and glance in the side mirrors. The headlights of the car behind us are reflected, but it doesn’t seem to be driving erratically or doing anything suspicious.
I sink back into my seat. “Let’s just get this shit over with.”
Havoc drives to the meet, not speaking a word. Itchy tension crawls up my spine, making it hard to concentrate and Amy keeps infiltrating my thoughts. I want to see her again, claim her, make her mine, but she had been a little uncertain with me. I’m not sure why she had flinched when I touched her, but I don’t want her afraid of me. Not ever. I know I’m a scary looking bloke. I’m well over six-foot tall and built like an ox. Since I got Stateside, I cut my chin-length hair short and have let my beard grow more, making me look like Grizzly fucking Adams. Add the kutte I wear on my back and I understand why she might be nervous.
I’m not a regular Joe. My life is fast, dangerous and I often walk a knife-edge between the legal and illegal. I probably shouldn’t drag her into my shit, but I’m not willing to give her up just yet. She interests me in a way no other woman has. She doesn’t fawn over me, she doesn’t see the leather on my back like every other club bunny has done in the past. She looks at me and I feel like she sees me. The real me. The man beneath the kutte. The fucker broken by years of patching up soldiers and witnessing fucking horrors that still give me nightmares.
“We’re here.”
My thoughts scatter at the sound of Havoc’s voice. He stops the van next to a large container and cuts the engine.
“Show time,” I mutter.
As I climb out of the van, a man approaches. He’s heavy set, with a large belly and graying hair. Over his top lip is a thick mustache. Havoc greets him with a lift of his chin before leading him around to the back doors. When he opens them, the guy glances over the three crates in the back.
“They’ll go out tonight,” he says.
The three of us unload the crates into the container. It’ll be on a plane tomorrow to the UK and Ravage will have the weapons he needs.
Relief at having completed the task is heady and when we get back into the van, Havoc lets out his own breath.
“I’m getting too old for this bullshit,” he mutters.
I let my lips quirk at the corner. “Ain’t old enough to think about retiring yet, Hav.”
“I feel fucking old enough.”
The atmosphere is lighter as we head back to the clubhouse. I need a fucking drink after that, but I’m glad we got the guns out okay. Rav will need them and I worry about my brothers back home. I should be there if they’re going to war, but my president ordered me to be here, and I’ll do what I’m needed to.
When we get inside the building, it becomes clear there was an issue at the other drop. Flash is sitting at a table, a towel pressed against his arm. It’s blood soaked.
Doctor mod
e kicks in and I head right for him, carefully peeling back the material. Blood gushes as soon as I do.
“Fuckers were waiting for us.” He winces as I apply pressure back to the wound. “Took the shit right from us, even though we were prepared. They’re like goddamned ninjas. They came out of nowhere.”
They got a truck full of empty crates.
I patch Flash up while Havoc goes to talk to Omen. When I’m done, I head up to room and I flop down on my bed. What a fucking night.
I pull my phone out and fire off a message to Amy.
ME: How was your day?
I don’t expect her to message back, but my phone pings a moment later.
AMY: It was okay. How was yours?
ME: Busy. I can’t wait to see you again.
AMY: Me neither.
I stare at that Me neither, a grin tugging at my lips. Yeah, I can’t wait to fucking make her mine.
9
Amy
The ER is frantic this morning. I bustle around, seeing patient after patient, checking their vitals and administering drugs prescribed by the doctors. I love the atmosphere of the ER. It’s nonstop and I enjoy the variation. Every day is different.
As I’m heading towards one of the cubicles to check on a patient, I see Shane standing by the nurses’ station, talking to Julia, one of the resident doctors.
My stomach gives a little flip as my eyes roam over him. He looks sinfully delicious. He’s wearing a dark, plaid shirt that is pushed up at the elbows, revealing thick arms covered in tattoos and his blond hair is spiked up at the tips.
I walk over, almost running, but stopping myself. I don’t want to seem too keen, right?
His eyes come to me as I approach and I see the flicker of want in his gaze. That makes a pleasant warmth spread through me.
“Shane.” My voice comes out breathier than I would like, which has Julia’s eyebrows raising into her hairline.
“Babe.” Yeah, that endearment does funny things to my belly. I smile. I can’t stop myself from.
“I got this,” I tell Julia, who eyes his leather vest with his club patches on. She doesn’t look convinced it’s a good idea to leave me alone with him, but she does move away, leaving me alone with Shane. She doesn’t go far, though, just to the other side of the desk.
My heart starts to race and my neck starts to feel too warm as Shane roves his eyes over me possessively.
“Missed you,” I admit. I don’t know why I tell this burly biker that, but he seems pleased by my words.
He leans in and tucks a piece of hair that’s come loose from my top knot behind my ear.
“Yeah, babe, missed you too. We still on for tonight?”
I nod. “What are we doing?”
“I thought we could go out for a drink, talk, get to know each other a little better.”
“Sounds perfect.”
His eyes trace my lips, his eyes hungry. “Wish I could kiss you right now.”
I wish he could too, but it’s probably not very professional to make out at the desk, no matter how much I want him.
“I wish you could too,” I admit.
“Later, I’m going to claim your mouth,” he warns me and a throb goes through my pussy at the heat in his words. His eyes are molten and needy. I let out a shallow breath.
“Okay,” I agree, wanting that very much. “I have to get back to work… I really don’t want to, but I have to.”
“I’m your next patient,” he tells me and I frown.
“You are?”
“Need someone to take my stitches out.”
“Oh. I can do that.”
I lead him back to an empty cubicle and I pull the curtain around the bed. As soon as we’re cocooned behind it, his hand comes to the back of my neck and his mouth latches onto mine. I can’t help from melting against him as he takes what he wants from me. His taste explodes on my tongue as his curls into my mouth, caressing against mine. It’s a hot, wet glorious kiss that I wish could lead to more, but now isn’t the time.
Regretfully, I press my hands to his chest and nudge him back. He pulls away with heated eyes that make my lungs stutter.
“You can’t kiss me like that in public.” My words sound dreamy as I say them, rather than chastising.
“We’re behind the curtains. No one can see and I didn’t want to wait until later.” His fingers cup my jaw, his eyes searching my face.
I lean forward and kiss him again, this time softer.
“You’re a patient. It’s against the rules.”
“Fuck the rules, babe. Who gives a shit what they are? I like you. You like me. That’s what matters.”
He’s right, but there are still rules and it’s not as simple as just ignoring them. All the trouble I caused over Dr Hofstadter didn’t make me any friends in the hospital. They would look for any excuse to fire my ass, but screened from the rest of the department, it’s not like anyone can see what I’m doing.
“Kissing you is becoming my favorite thing,” I tell him.
“Mine too.”
I clear my throat, warmth spreading through me. “Do you want to get on the gurney and we’ll see how these stitches are doing?”
He grins at me as he moves over to the bed and sinks onto the edge of it. I leave him sitting there while I grab the equipment I need and return behind the curtain, ignoring the looks Julia is firing my way. I know she’s probably curious about what’s going on between me and Shane. I’m sure all my colleagues will be. Dating a biker isn’t exactly a good way to fly under the radar.
Shane peers up as I step back around the curtain, closing it behind me. I feel his eyes on me as I unpack the stuff I need and then go to work. The cut has healed well. It’s still red and raised, though.
“This looks good, though I think you’re going to have a scar.”
He shrugs. “Got plenty. What’s one more?”
“You get your scars in the army?”
“Some. A few from my time with the Sons.”
A shiver runs through me. “Your life is dangerous?”
“Life in general is dangerous. Tomorrow ain’t promised.”
It’s not, but the casual way he talks about that scares me a little. Does he really have such a lack of regard for his own life?
“Don’t talk like that,” I murmur as I start to remove the stitches.
“It’s true. Never knew if I’d come home in the forces either. I’ve lived a life that has always been dangerous, babe. Used to it.”
I remove the last of the stitches and stare at his cheek. “Done.”
His hands come to my hips and this time, I manage not to flinch at his touch. He smiles and God, I want to get lost in him.
“I’m looking forward to tonight.”
“Me too.” The thought of having him to myself all night makes the butterflies in my stomach take flight.
“I wish I could ride. You on the back of my bike would be perfect.”
“You have about five weeks more in that cast.”
“It’s fucking bollocks.”
I snort at how pronounced his accent is as he says the word. “Bollocks, eh?”
His fingers caress against my hips. “I want you wrapped around me.”
I dip my head and kiss him. I can’t seem to keep my hands off him, not that he seems to mind. “It’ll be off before you know it. Then you can take me on all the bike rides you want to.”
“I’ll hold you to that.”
I clean up my stuff and pull the curtain back around. Julia’s no longer at the nurses’ station, which I’m grateful for. I’m sure she’d know what I’ve been doing just by looking at me.
I walk with Shane, heading for the main exit.
“I’ll see you later,” I say.
His eyes roam over my face. “Later, babe.”
I watch him walk out, my gaze locked on his ass which perfectly fills out his jeans. Yeah, the man is perfect and he’s all mine.
10
Whizz
Afte
r I get back from the hospital I head straight for the clubhouse. As soon as I set foot in the common room, I can feel the tension in the air. It is thick, cloying and it swirls heavily around me. I peer around the room, trying to figure out what has me on edge and see Crank is sitting at the bar, while Chains watches on, as if guarding him. It’s a dynamic I’ve noticed since I’ve been with the Tennessee boys. Chains is never far from Crank. Don’t know if there’s something going on there, I’ve seen Crank with a few of the club bunnies since I’ve been here, or if it’s just a solid friendship, but Chains watches over him like a guardian fucking dark angel.
Chains is a quiet bloke, hardly ever opens his mouth. He reminds me of Fury, though less lethal. Him and Crank seem like an odd mix. Crank’s the life and soul of the fucking party—usually. Today, his jaw is dragging the floor. Chains is the creep hiding in the shadows.
I slip onto the stool next to him and wait for the prospect, Mac, to bring a drink over. A bang behind me has me jolting in my seat. For a moment, I’m transported back to some overseas hell hole, bullets flying around my head, noise filling my ears. I can taste the sand coating my tongue, can feel the sun burning my skin, can feel the blood drenching my hands. Fear claws at my throat as I take a stuttering breath, trying to force myself back to the present. I’m not in a war zone. Not anymore. I’m safe.
A hand on my shoulder has me flinching. I blink, clearing the images from my eyes and Crank’s face comes into view.
“Brother? It’s just Mac. He dropped a tray.”
My heart still pounding, I swallow down my terror and realize I’m clinging to Crank. I release my grip on his arms.
“Fuck…”
I tear my fingers through my short hair, trying to control my breathing while Crank pats my shoulder.
“Sorry.”
“We’ve all got demons, Whizz.”
It’s true, but it’s been a while since mine last surfaced. Chains, I notice, has moved closer to the bar, but he moves back to his position against the wall when he’s sure I’m level again.