DADDY AT THE ALTAR: Iron Claws MC

by St. Rose, Claire

  It rang five times, then went to voicemail. “Larson of Larson Enterprises. Can’t call you back if I don’t know who you are, so do what you gotta do.” She almost laughed, but the beep sounded, and she tried to think of what she was actually going to say.

  Time was running out, and finally she blurted, “Hey, Vince, it’s Ariana. Give me a call when you can. It’s been a long day. Later.” She winced as she hung up, wishing she could have been a little less awkward and a little more creative. Vince would hear that and roll his eyes, wondering how someone so stupid could have made it so far in life. But the damage was done now, so she laid back to watch TV and wait to hear back from him.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  The boys pulled over for a bite to eat about halfway down the road, and Vince was relieved. His leg was aching, and he was afraid that the burn on the bottom of his foot was getting infected. Plus, he was in desperate need of a cigarette. He lit up as soon as he shut down the engine and asked Traunch to bring him a Coke so he could swallow some pain meds. He wouldn’t be able to go on without them.

  He checked his phone and saw a missed call, but he didn’t get to look at who it was before Pound walked over to him. “Hey, man, how’s the leg holding up?”

  He shrugged. “I’ve had easier rides, but I’m fine.” A gross exaggeration of the word, he knew, but it was as close as he would come to sounding the least bit vulnerable to one of his guys.

  “It’s gotta suck. Did you pack a change of dressing for that funky road burn?” He motioned to Vince’s thigh.

  He nodded. “Two, just in case.”

  “Good.” He stopped to light his own cigarette. “So, what’s she like?”

  Vince’s brows knit together in a frown. “What are you talking about?”

  “The nurse. Or EMT or whatever the hell she is. What’s she like? I bet she’s a hellion in bed.”

  Suddenly offended, Vince turned away. “It’s none of your damn business. That’s what she’s like in bed.” He couldn’t believe Pound would ask something like that.

  “Don’t get all defensive on me. We talk about this shit all the time, and now all of a sudden, you have these new morals or a code of ethics that don’t sound like you at all. Since when do you not talk about your conquests?”

  “She’s not a fucking conquest!” he snapped, instantly regretting it when Pound’s eyebrows went up three inches.

  “Really? That’s not what you said before. What’s going on with you, man? You don’t even know this broad, and you’re acting protective of her like she’s your kid sister. If you like her, just say so.”

  “Newsflash, asshole. I don’t sleep with people I don’t at least like. I’m not some horn dog like you who fucks anything with tits. I swear, Dustin puts on another ten pounds and his bitch tits grow, you’ll be panting after him with your tongue hanging out.” He hated this. He couldn’t admit to liking her, not with the tension in the air from when she had shown up at the club compound. “Why are you riding me like this?”

  Pound crossed his arms. “I’m not riding you, Larson. I’m trying to figure out why, for the first time in almost 25 years as friends, you feel like you have to lie to me.”

  Looking up at Pound incredulously, Vince told him, “You’ve already proven you don’t want to hear anything truthful from me. Every time I tell you something lately, you argue with me like I’m spewing the contents of some Port-a-John. You’re not the same best friend I’ve had for the last 25 years, man. You’re dogging me at every turn, and frankly, I don’t want to hear anything else about my stupid decisions. They’re mine to make, like they always have been. I don’t need anyone to tell me how to live, just like I didn’t need anyone to raise me.”

  “This club raised you, Larson. It raised both of us when our parents didn’t give two shits where we were.” The passion in Pound’s voice was tangible. “You owe them, and so do I. Lately, I see you playing fast and loose, and it scares the hell out of me because that’s how people get hurt. That’s how we lose our people. This chick is just the latest thing. You keep saying you’re not spiraling out of control, but since Kristi died, you have yet to prove it.”

  Vince spotted several of the guys headed back toward them, including Traunch with his drink. “Look, I don’t want to fight, especially in front of everyone else. We’ve got a job to do. If you really think I’m a loose cannon, we’ll talk after we make this drop off and get home safe.” He tossed his cigarette and swung off the bike, effectively ending the conversation and heading toward Traunch. He needed his pain meds more than ever, his blood pressure high from getting worked up.

  “Hey, it’s getting dark. I think we should hurry up and get back on the road,” Dustin called, stuffing a burger in his mouth and swallowing it in two bites.

  Vince downed the pills and nodded. “I think it’s a bad idea to stay here long. I’ve seen three cops come by in the last two minutes, and I’ve got an uneasy feeling about it.” Dumping the rest of the drink and stealing a handful of fries from a protesting Dustin, he swung his leg back over the bike, making sure his head was down so no one could see the pain on his face. The sooner they got on the road, the sooner they would reach the motel their new printer had set up for them. He needed to elevate the damn leg for a few hours if he was going to be able to make the ride back home.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Ariana woke with a start. She didn’t immediately recognize her surroundings, but as she came to, she realized she must have fallen asleep on the couch, watching Shark Week reruns. The sun was streaming in through the cheap blinds over her window, and she squinted at the clock. It was just after six. Cursing at the hour, she peeled herself off the couch and headed to the shower, stopping only long enough to turn on the coffee maker. Those were the only things that were going to get her through the day.

  The hot water flipped the on switch in her brain, and though she was still in slow mode, she remembered calling Vince last night. She groaned, the moment of weakness bringing her shame, especially since he hadn’t ever called back. Then again, if she had slept that soundly, she might have missed his call. Even more likely, her ringer volume was down.

  “You are a genius,” she told herself sarcastically as she scrubbed her hair, which wasn’t dirty but felt grimy because she hadn’t slept in a bed. She pulled on her sweats and went back to the kitchen to pour her first cup of coffee, then she went for her phone. She scowled. There were no calls or messages from Vince, and it bugged her. After all, he’d been the one who wanted to start fresh, the one who’d suggested some sort of arrangement they still needed to figure out. And now, he couldn’t even take a minute to send her a damn text.

  Ariana plopped back down on the couch and reached for her textbook to study for class tomorrow. Maybe she wasn’t being fair. After all, it had looked like he was about to take a trip somewhere, and he could be out of service range or something. Of course, even if he’d gone for a long ride, he could have sent her a message when he stopped. There were gas needs, food needs, and he certainly couldn’t go on forever with his leg in that shape.

  Again, she chided herself. He could be busy, and that was fine. He didn’t owe her anything. Vince would call or text eventually, when the time was right. Hell, she’d called less than twelve hours after she’d left him. She was being needy, and that wouldn’t work very well between two people who had separate lives of their own. With a sigh, she drank her coffee and started reading. Her physiology professor had a way of springing pop quizzes on them, and she wanted to be prepared.

  She got lost in her book and was thankful for the alarm she kept permanently set on her phone, alerting her it was time to get ready for work. She cursed and felt like calling in sick for perhaps the first time; she wished she could just stay buried in the study material. She was finally starting to piece this information together and enjoy it. Nonetheless, she wouldn’t be able to keep up with the bills that her grants and loans didn’t cover if she took a night off, so she headed to her room to chang
e into something she could actually show her face in at the station.

  As she packed a bag with spare clothes and some snacks, as usual, her phone chirped, and she grabbed it, a little too anxious. It wasn’t Vince; it was her mother. Ariana couldn’t figure out for the life of her why her mother would want to contact her all of a sudden, and she was completely at a loss for when the woman had learned to text. She must have been seeing a younger guy again. Ignoring the text, she threw the phone in her bag, filled a travel mug with coffee she hadn’t already drank and headed out.

  Her phone chirped again as she pulled out of the parking lot, and her level of irritation skyrocketed. She figured it was just her mother, being bratty and demanding her attention. The woman didn’t like to wait; she thought that her life should be the focus of everyone’s thoughts at all times. A selfish bitch, that’s what her mother was. So was her sister, for that matter, and she didn’t regret losing contact with her for a second. Just thinking about her family irritated her.

  She didn’t realize she was driving like a bat out of hell until she screeched to a halt to avoid running a red light. Her heart throbbing, she slammed the heel of her hand against the steering wheel. What was wrong with her lately? She’d become reckless and easily enraged. Maybe she was just under too much stress. That alone was reason enough for her uncharacteristic actions, including her strange attraction to Vince Larson. One thing she could say for sure: sleeping with him relieved every bit of stress, at least for a while.

  Maybe, over time, their physical relationship would actually lower her stress level. That would be a real relief. And if nothing else, maybe she could parade him in front of her mother so she could really piss the woman off. After all, it was her mother’s influence that had built her hatred of motorcycle gangs in the first place.

  Clubs, she reminded herself. This wasn’t 1950. Gangs wore specifically colored bandanas on specific arms. Organized groups of men wearing identical insignia on their leather jackets as they rode on two wheels down the streets were just clubs now. She shook her head. Maybe they weren’t so bad. After all, when she’d gone in, guns blazing, to tear into Vince, she hadn’t missed the way all of his buddies seemed to watch out for him, their ears twitching as they listened and their eyes suspicious as they took on poses that made it plain they were ready for a rumble.

  If nothing else, she’d seen the loyalty they had toward each other. It was more than she could say for her own family, and they were bound by blood.

  The light changed, and she drove more attentively now, determined to put her family and Vince out of her mind for the next several hours. She wanted to do her job and enjoy it the way she had before anyone had found out who she was and started looking down on her. Tonight was going to be her night, and she’d deal with all her other troubles later.

  The shift started out simple enough, and Ariana felt good about it. She even held casual conversation with Sal, something she rarely bothered to do. If they talked, it was on a profound topic or some philosophical debate. They’d even talked politics, but when it came to anything personal or lighthearted, Ariana clammed up and let Sal talk until he realized the discussion had turned into a soliloquy.

  Today, though, it was different, and during a moment of silence after they’d been laughing about old sitcoms, Ariana heard herself say, “My mother sent me a message today.”

  Sal glanced at her, then turned away. “What did she say?”

  “I don’t know. I didn’t read the message. I didn’t want to hear from her. I haven’t talked to her in months, haven’t talked to my father in about a year, and managed to avoid contact with my sister for almost three years. Why would I want to let go of a good thing?” She sounded petulant, even to her own ears, and she guessed some habits from bad breeding never disappeared.

  “So, are you just going to wait to read their obituaries one day and not even try to clear the air or say goodbye or anything?” Sal’s words were scolding, but his tone was kind. He understood her, even if he didn’t agree with her. It always helped to know that someone didn’t hate her for things she had no part of.

  Shrugging, she said, “Maybe. You know, my father is an embarrassment, and he’s the main reason I have to struggle so hard to prove myself. Do you know how hard it’s going to be to get any respect or earn a residency anywhere?”

  Sal scowled. “I think you’ll find the right place. If they can’t look past the mistakes your family made and see that you’re better than that, you don’t want to work there anyway. You shouldn’t have to pay for the sins of others.”

  Unfortunately, that’s how life worked, and Ariana knew she couldn’t change it. “I wish we lived in a perfect world, but if we did, I wouldn’t have that shame in the past.” There had been a time she’d thought about changing her name to try to avoid the stigma of the Powell history, but she knew it wouldn’t really get her anywhere. As soon as anyone dug into her past, which would be inevitable, they’d find out who her family was anyway. She’d decided it was better to deal with the problem head on.

  Now, her partner chuckled. “Hey, in a perfect world, we’d both be independently wealthy and spend our days by pools with servants, or traveling to exotic places. My son would be a genius who wanted to go into rocket science instead of dyslexic and struggling to spell his own name.”

  Ariana looked at him in surprise. “You’ve never mentioned that before.”

  He shrugged. “Perry was just diagnosed about a month ago. We’re working on getting him a tutor who specializes in that sort of learning disorder, but so far, he’s having a really hard time not getting frustrated and wanting to quit. My wife’s having the hardest time with it because she’s the one at home with him, watching him go through this and trying to find ways to help him, so I try not to complain. At least he’s healthy and smart enough to overcome it, once he finds his patience.”

  Ariana realized she had been too wrapped up in her own world. There were plenty of people who had more pressing issues, and she often forgot to think about how much worse it could be. Sal adored his son, and she knew it broke his heart that Perry had such a difficult obstacle to overcome. At least that was something she didn’t have to face. She only had herself to look after.

  It made her thoughts turn to Vince. Part of the reason she’d been so hard on him and his friends was a lack of compassion. She’d been taught not to think of them as people with feelings. But they went through the same tough situations everyone else did. Obviously, Vince’s wife’s death had taken a bigger toll on him than he wanted others to believe. His struggle was just as difficult as Sal’s. And while Ariana had to fight for her place in the world, at least she hadn’t lost someone so close to her, as Vince had.

  But it also reminded her that she couldn’t get in too deep with Vince. After all, his lifestyle was dangerous, or, at least, she assumed it was. And that meant he could disappear from her life at any time. He could be killed, just as he could have been in his accident. Or, if he was into illegal activities, which she’d grown up believing to be a fact of life for motorcycle clubs, he could go to prison for the rest of his life. Either situation would leave her alone again, and she wasn’t prepared to lose someone in that way.

  Ariana had thought she wanted to get to know him better, but really, it was better to stick to a relationship that didn’t go beyond satisfying physical needs for both of them. She would deal with any emotional needs she had later on, when she was finally past all of the obstacles she faced in her career and had time to dedicate to a real relationship. By then, Vince would certainly be a distant memory.

  The radio came to life, and Sal sped up, turning the sirens and lights on. This was a big one, a multi-car pileup, and they needed to hurry. She was both excited and nervous, hoping there were no life-threatening injuries, but eager to take on the challenge.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  The accident scene was gruesome, with at least two people unconscious and in need of immediate attention. Ariana hurried toward one wo
man, who was bleeding profusely, instantly looking for the source of the blood. “She’s not breathing,” Sal told her, and Ariana froze.

  She hadn’t lost anyone on the job yet, and she didn’t intend to today. She found a gash in the woman’s side and quickly put pressure on it while Sal began CPR. It looked like the laceration had gone through to an organ or hit a major blood vessel; the blood seeped through her towels quickly.

  Sal managed to get a thread of a pulse and wheezing breath. Ariana shook her head. “I think she might have a broken rib and punctured lung. I can’t figure it out because I can’t get this bleeding to stop or slow down long enough to check the rest of her.” Sal put the oxygen mask over the woman’s face and began to assess the rest of her injuries.

  “That would be my guess too,” he said, coming back to where Ariana was trying to pack the wound. “Here, let’s do this together, and then we’ll get a neck brace on her and see if there’s anything else we can do.” It was against procedure, but the woman wasn’t going to wake up any time soon and start moving around. Besides, the woman was barely breathing and her pulse was already so light, they had to stop the bleeding or anything else would be useless.