by Cathryn Cade
He frowned, and set the purse back in the bag. "Yeah, but that's yours now. I know you ain't gonna be workin' with Faro no more, but that's still your money."
No, it wasn't and she wasn't keeping it. But before she could formulate the words to tell him this, brisk footsteps sounded, and the curtain whisked back to reveal a young guy in blue scrubs, his blond hair pulled back on top of his head, short on the sides.
"Good, you're awake. That means you're feeling better, right? I'm Charles, your nurse today. Well, it's still the wee hours, but technically it's Sunday."
As he spoke, he pulled a blood pressure cuff from a hook and placed it gently around her upper arm.It pumped tight, pinching, then gradually released. "Let’s get your temperature," he said, and placed a thermometer at her temple. "Good, no fever. Now, pulse check."
Manda focused on Charles instead of the man standing on her other side. It helped, as she no longer wanted to weep again. Seeing T-Bear had stirred up a different kind of pain, a nebulous one that was emotional rather than physical.
"Okay, you're doing great," the nurse said. "Now, what can I get you? A soda, some crackers?"
"Sure," she said gratefully. "Coke, if you have it, please."
He went out, leaving Manda alone with T-Bear. She busied herself pulling the blanket up over her shoulders. He promptly pushed away from the wall and brought her another blanket that had been hanging over the end of the bed.
Manda watched him. Her attention caught on his black leather vest. "Your friend was here earlier," she told him. "Rock, or something."
He finished tucking the blanket around her, making her feel like a taco in a basket. "Yeah, Rocker. He used to be a cop, now he's our veep. Good man."
She frowned. "There was a real cop too. Why?"
T-Bear ran a hand over the top of his head and plunked down in the chair again. It groaned in protest. He opened his mouth and closed it, watching her warily. "You don't remember nothin', huh? Well, that happens with head injuries. But I dunno, maybe... maybe we should let it come back to you natural."
Her heart pounded, and she clutched at the covers, holding them tightly to herself. "But what if it doesn't? I know something bad happened... after our date. But I don't know what. Did I do something wrong? Am I in trouble?"
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
* * *
The huge biker leaned forward, his hazel gaze going soft again, one massive hand over hers where they knotted under the covers. "Aw, honey girl, no! You didn't do a single thing wrong. You just got tangled up with a bad dude, that's all. Wasn't your fault. None of it."
She unwrapped one hand from the covers, and he took it in his, big and powerful and so, so warm that she cradled it to her chest on instinct. "Tell me," she pleaded. "Even if it's bad."
His eyes softened, and he gave her hand a gentle squeeze. "Okay, here goes."
He proceeded to tell her a story worthy of a TV reality show, of a man called John who made a date for an encounter with a pretty woman, one new to 'the business'. John took her out to dinner, then took her back to her place, a small old resort called the Pine Cabins. They shared sex, then John took his leave, but not before tipping the woman a couple extra hundred, above the amount he'd paid earlier for her.
He then returned to the clubhouse where he lived with some brothers.
One of them remembered an ugly story about the man who had arranged the 'date'. A story so ugly that John returned to get her out and away. He found a muscle man guarding the woman, who had been beaten, bound and left in a small, dirty, cold storeroom, no doubt to punish her for trying to leave, and prove to her she could not escape the shit-hole place or the ugly men there.
"So it all started Friday night," T-Bear told her. "That's when you and me met. Now, it's Sunday."
The nurse returned with her soda and crackers. "You need anything, you use that call button," he told Manda.
He left, and Manda watched, bemused as T-Bear rose and opened the packet of saltines, then opened the can of Coke and poured it over ice for her. He added a straw to the glass, pushed the swing-table closer to her, and walked over to the window, peering out as she picked up the glass of Coke and took a sip, then another.
As she sipped, more flashes of memory popped.
T-Bear sitting across from her at a restaurant table, laughing. T-Bear behind her in the bed, moving mightily as they both strove for pleasure, and found it. Here she squirmed a little in the bed, because this memory was so visceral, and pleasurable. Then, T-Bear gone, leaving only money on her nightstand.
Her horrible encounter with Rezan and his muscle man—an encounter that made her heart race and cold sweat break out on her skin, just remembering it. She had a feeling it would be a very long time before the effects of that encounter left her.
And last of all, she remembered T-Bear bursting into that cold, dirty little storeroom, and carrying her out.
"You're right about one thing," she said to his broad back. "Rezan Faro is a major asshole. A user. And you're right about him turning out to be a-a pimp. But you're wrong, too. Because he's not my pimp."
He turned and leaned back against the window. He folded his arms, and said nothing, his face expressionless.
Manda's face burned. "He's not!" she said in a hard voice. "He told you that I was a whore. That's a filthy lie! I'm not. Wanna know the lie he told me? That you were a friend who was coming off a bad break-up, who just wanted a n-nice girl to go on a blind date."
At this, T-Bear's head went back, and his lips parted.
But Manda didn't wait for him to speak. "And I'll tell you what I told him. Someday I might sink so low and be so desperate that I'd sell my body for money. But I'm not there yet. I didn't know anything about his scheme to get money from you. So take your two hundred dollars and...and just go away."
So saying, she struggled over on her side away from him, and pulled the blankets up over her head. The movement hurt, badly, but in that moment it was worth it to block out his story, and the look of skepticism in his eyes.
“Aw, now.” A big, warm hand settled on her shoulder, and stroked gently. Even through the blanket, she could feel the warmth of that hand. She half-hated it and half-wanted to beg him to stay and hold her close.
But tears were leaking down her battered face, and she refused to let him see her weakness. So far, that's about all he'd seen from her. And she refused to show how much it hurt that he believed the worst about her.
"I'm sorry, honey girl," T rumbled. "So fuckin' sorry. Didn't mean to insult you, although I've known some real nice women who, uh, made a living that way. But if you say that's not you, I believe you. Guess you and me both fell for Faro's bullshit line."
When she refused to answer, he sighed deeply. Then he leaned closer, his voice as quiet as a deep one like his could be. "Want you to know somethin', Manda. You're safe now. No matter what, Faro's not gettin' anywhere near you, ever again."
When she did not respond, he rose, the bed easing as his weight lifted. "Okay. Guess I’ll go now. But someone will be around, keepin' eyes on ya. Talk to you tomorrow, okay?"
When the sound of his booted footsteps faded, she pulled the blankets from her head, because it was hot and stuffy under there, and swiped her wet face on the fabric. Tomorrow... what was she going to do tomorrow? They'd let her out of here soon, which was good, but then what would she do?
She heard T-Bear's low voice out in the hallway. "Leavin' you on guard, brother. No one gets in here who don't have a badge—hospital or cop."
Another man answered, too low to understand.
Manda's head hurt too much to think about why T-Bear seemed to be watching out for her, or why he'd left one of his friends guarding her while he was gone.
Tomorrow she'd ask him about that, as well as what had happened to Rezan. Also, if he minded if she used the two hundred dollars for a bus ticket. Just as a loan. She surely wasn't ever going back to the Pine Cabins. They were the last place on earth she wanted to be. The second to last pla
ce was her mother's apartment, but right now, she had no choice.
With no money, no car and no clothing but the ensemble in the hospital bag, there was nowhere else for her to go. Aunt Macy was gone. Chloe had no room for her. Manda had other friends, but none good enough for a favor this big. That left her mother.
One thing was for sure, she couldn't depend on T-Bear to look out for her. He'd ridden to her rescue like a knight in an old pickup truck. But she couldn't ask anymore from him than that, and she wouldn't. He'd just disappoint her, like all the other men in her life.
She'd depended on her daddy, and he'd walked away without goodbye.
As for Tim, he'd worked hard to break down her defenses and gain her trust. But when he’d needed collateral to pay a debt, he'd taken everything she owned and used her..
Finally, she'd had no idea Rezan Faro was in cahoots with Tim. He’d sure pulled one over on her—acting like her friend, pretending he wanted to give her a leg up on the long climb back to independence, to being her own woman.
And look where all that dependence got her—in a hospital bed, broke and nearly broken.
She was done with men. In fact, she should be more like a man herself. Hook up when she wanted sex—not that she was going to be in the mood for sex anytime soon, but someday—and the rest of the time? Keep them at a safe distance. Even T-Bear, with his seductive smiles, and muscles and ginger curls, and that big cock of his.
She pushed the call button to ask for more painkillers. Too bad the kind nurses here couldn't bring her a new life, as well.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
* * *
T sat at the bar in The Hangar, the comfortable, bustling brewpub owned and run by his best bro Pete and fiance Lesa.
The pretty brunette stood behind the bar, her long hair bound loosely in one of those loose, sexy updos women did. She wore a snug Hangar tee that did nice things for her rack, and tight jeans.
She was slicing limes with skill of long practice, and listening to him.
"I fucked up," T said miserably. He took another drink of Pete's new amber, and and set his glass down. "An’ now I don't know how to climb outta this fuckin' hole I'm in. First, I let her get hurt, and then... fuck me, I called her a whore. Swear to God I thought she was one. New in the life, yeah, but still a whore."
Lesa gave him a look of sympathy as she covered the sliced fruit with clear wrap, and set the plate under the lip of the bar where the bartenders could reach it.
"Pete told me about how she was attacked. That was not your fault. And as far as the other... well, I'm sure you did think that, big guy. It's just... to a woman who's not actually a prostitute, calling her one is the ultimate insult. Which may not be fair, but there it is."
He groaned again, and drained his beer. "So now what do I do? Gotta get her not mad at me."
"Oh. Well, then." She set a full beer down before him and whisked away his empty glass. "Here's how I see it. I'm betting she's not so much mad at you, as she's hurt. And probably humiliated."
He gave her a look of horror. "'Cause we f—uh, did the nasty? I was nice to her, I swear."
She leaned on the bar, her gaze warm. "Of course you were. That's who you are. And, from what you're telling me, T, that first night, she was into you. And she thought—and I'm making this leap because we're both women and it's what I would've thought if a nice, attractive guy asked me out and plied me with food, liquor and laughs—that you were into her, too."
Pete came around the bar to stand close at her side. "Oh, he got into her all right." He waggled his brows at T, then flinched when his fiance elbowed him in the ribs. "Ow! Just a joke."
"Poorly timed, handsome," she told him. "I meant, 'into her' as in you like her, T. You want to be with her whether or not you're getting sex right away."
T stared at her. "Oh," he said, his brain shorting like a bad wire in a transmission. "Huh."
She rolled her eyes. "God, I see why you two guys get along so well. You're both dense as this bar." She rapped her knuckles on the polished wood, the big diamond on her hand glittering in the bar lights.
Pete grabbed her and pulled her close, leaning in to nip at her earlobe. "Yeah, but I clued in and graduated romance school with high honors. T's still in romance kindygarten."
She snickered. "Biggest kindergartner I've ever seen."
"I was when I was in it for real too," T said wryly. He was cheering up by the second. "So, if my honey girl's into me, all I gotta do is... what?" He looked to Lesa, wincing. "Help me out here, darlin'."
"Hearts and flowers and jewelry," Pete said instantly. He grinned at his woman. "What? It worked on you."
"It was Valentine's Day," she said, but she did it making goo-goo eyes at him. Which Pete deserved, 'cause he had created quite a display here in the brewpub, which T could not afford to replicate.
"Okay, so hearts are out," T said. "What else?"
"Flowers are always good," Lesa said. "Chocolate. I don't know, T. Find out what she likes and give her that. But not jewelry, it's way too soon for that."
"Already know what she likes," T said. He and Pete snickered together while Lesa glared. "No, serious though. I can do flowers. Those are good in a hospital. An' maybe one o' them big stuffed animals. Seen them in the hospital gift shop."
Lesa smiled at him. "Aw, that's sweet."
"Really?" Pete looked skeptical. "You sure? I mean, Kick and Dash like stuffed animals, but they're only five."
"Women like stuffed animals too," his fiance assured him. "They're cute, they're cuddly, and they never argue or hog the covers. Or make a girl sleep in the wet spot."
"Hey, I sleep in the wet spot," Pete said, trying to look innocent.
T laughed again. "She's got some good points there, Brews. So, darlin', do I get her a stuffed dog or a teddy bear?"
Both she and Pete gave him a look. "A bear, duh," Lesa said.
"Yeah, unless you want us to start callin' you T-Dog," Pete added, smirking like a fool.
T mimed biting him, and Pete backed away. "All right, I gotta get to work. And so do you, milaya moye."
"You're right." Lesa looked to T. "You want some lunch?"
"Yeah, better bring me a cheeseburger and the fixings." Now that he had a plan for dealing with Manda, he was starving. "Make that cheeseburger a double."
"You got it." She hurried away.
The front doors opened, letting in a whoosh of chilly evening air along with a group of people who looked around and headed for the restaurant side. Moke trailed in behind them, a beany pulled down over his black hair, a fleece sweatshirt on under his cut, and a scowl on his face.
He slid onto the stool next to T. Without being asked, Pete pulled him an amber and set it on the bar before him.
The big Hawaiian nodded his thanks and took a long drink, but said nothing.
"Hey," Pete said. "What's up? You look like someone pissed in your beer."
"No, 'cause anyone tried that, I'd pound 'em into the pavement," Moke answered. "Then I'd be smiling."
Pete smirked. "Yeah, my beer is definitely worth that level of respect."
"Moke's jacked that Faro got away," T explained. "And so am I, but it wasn't your fault, bro. I mean, a pile-up on the highway right in front of ya? Wasn't like you could ride on past, when people are bleedin' and shit."
"I know," Moke said. "But I was that close to the buggah. Now he's in the wind, and we got nothin'."
"Yeah, but he don't got Manda," T said. "So that's a win. Now all we gotta do is keep him from getting his claws into any other gals around here."
"But how we gonna do that, we can't find him?"
"Fuck if I know. But we'll figure out somethin', cause we're awesome like that."
Pete chuckled. "Can't keep you down for long, T."
"Fuckin' right, bro." Specially not when he had a mission—getting a certain honey blonde to like him again.
* * *
Monday
Manda woke from a light doze when someone walked int
o her room.
She blinked, and looked again. No, she wasn't seeing things. The person was bearing one of the largest bouquets of flowers she'd seen. Roses, carnations and other blooms she didn't know the names of, filled a tall cut-glass vase. And every one of them was orange, yellow or a shade in between.
A hot guy with brown hair bundled back in a man-bun grinned at her over the top of the flowers. "Hey, Manda. I'm Streak. Got a delivery for you here."
She put a hand to the blanket, making sure it was up over her chest. Nothing like lying around in a hospital gown to make a girl self-conscious. Bits and pieces could hang out at the slightest movement.
"Hi," she said. "Um, I think you're in the wrong room." She sure didn't know anyone who would buy her an extravagant bouquet like that. She gazed at it longingly, wishing it didn't have to disappear.
"Yeah, these are for you." He set the vase down carefully on the small table opposite the end of her bed. Without his screen of blooms, she could see that he wore a familiar black leather vest over his long-sleeved tee.
He plucked a small envelope from the greenery, and brought it to her. "Here you go."
The small card in the envelope was marked simply with a large 'T'. "Oh!" She flushed under Streak's interested regard. "They're from T-Bear?"
He nodded, still grinning. "Yep."
"Thank you," she said. "For bringing them in. So, you're a member of his, um, motorcycle club?"
"I'm a prospect, yeah."
Manda used the control to push the head of her bed farther upright, and regarded him with curiosity. He was about her age, she was certain, and he looked friendly. Not that she was a good judge. "Can I ask what the name of your riding club is?"
He gave her an odd look. "Ain't a riding club. It's a motorcycle club. We're the Devil's Flyers, Airway Heights Chapter."
She frowned. "The Devil's Flyers? That sounds kind of grim. Why did you choose that name?"
He shifted his stance, standing with his legs apart and his thumbs hooked in his belt. "Club's been around since the Vietnam War. Started by some ex-Air Force guys in California. They were done followin' orders, and living by someone else's rules. Said they'd spent the last few years with the devil on their tails, so they named themselves the Devil's Flyers."