Striker: No Prisoners MC Book 1

by Lilly Atlas

  “Oh shit,” said Jester. “What the fuck are they doing here?”

  Striker had the same exact thought as he watched three men dressed similarly to him and his brothers step into the lobby. Christ, he did not want to deal with this tonight. Five more seconds and they’d have been riding back to the clubhouse.

  Striker didn’t know the men by name, but he recognized the image of a wolf’s head with a hooded cape centered on the back of their leather cuts. It indicated they were members of the Grimm Brothers, a rival motorcycle club from the next town over. His club had taken a lot of shit from the Grimms in the past few months. They were running drugs through No Prisoners’ territory. It was starting to get ugly, and Striker worried it would lead to an all-out war.

  One of the men, the only one who looked like he showered regularly, stood near the doors, blocking the exit. He had short brown hair, no visible tattoos or piercings, and lacked the cold dead eyes most of the Grimms had. The other two spilled into the lobby and waiting area, glaring at their surroundings. The security guard was nowhere to be seen. How much had it cost them to get him to split? Striker made a mental note to deal with him at a later time.

  Thankfully, there were only a handful of citizens in the waiting room, and about four staff members standing wide-eyed and unmoving behind the desk. Striker had no idea how this was going to play out. He stood beside Jester and Gumby, and stared down the man closest to him while they waited to see what move the Grimms would make.

  A man about Striker’s height with a long black mohawk, and a wicked-looking piercing through the bottom of his nose spoke first. The smile on his face was arrogant and smug, and he addressed the room in general. “Good evening, folks,” he said, his voice loud, tone mocking. “We were just in the neighborhood and wanted to stop by to familiarize ourselves with the place. We’re planning to be in town more, and you never know when one might need some medical attention.”

  The third Grimm Brother clapped his hands together once and rubbed them back and forth, like he knew an evil secret the rest of the room wasn’t privy to. He was scruffy, with shaggy blond hair and an equally scraggly beard. Holes in his jeans and a stain on the shirt under his cut topped off the slob presentation.

  It was bullshit plain and simple. There was no way three Grimm Brothers just happened to waltz into the hospital on the same night some No Prisoners were there. This trio had followed them. Their presence was a show of force, a smack at the No Prisoners, telling them the Grimms were moving in on their territory. The taunting would have to be dealt with soon, but for now he wanted this altercation over without any escalation. Starting a brawl to see whose dicks were bigger would only scare the patients and staff at the hospital, and it wouldn’t get the clubs any closer to solving their problems. Plus, he did not want Lila anywhere near a situation that could get her injured.

  “Fuck off,” countered Jester, his voice hard. He stepped toward Mohawk, and placed his hands on his hips, an impenetrable wall of muscle. “This little show supposed to intimidate us?”

  The last thing they needed was for someone to call the cops. Striker was about to step in and diffuse the potentially volatile situation when he heard a soft gasp behind him. Without moving his body, he turned his head a fraction, shifted his eyes, and caught sight of Lila in his periphery. Shit, he’d hoped she wouldn’t hear anything, but Jester’s voice carried like a foghorn and he should have anticipated her coming to check on the noise.

  “Well, well,” chanted Mohawk. He fixed his attention on Lila, and licked his lips while adjusting his cock. “Looks like this hospital hired themselves one gorgeous doctor. Come closer and introduce yourself, lady doctor.”

  “Did you seriously just do that? Get out of here before someone calls the police. Where the hell is security?” Lila’s voice reflected how pissed off she was, but Striker picked up on a small tremor of fear beneath her outrage. What the hell was she doing antagonizing these guys?

  Striker took a step backward and to the side, taking Lila out of Mohawk’s line of sight. He placed one hand on her soft hip, and felt her fingers curl into the waistband of his jeans in what was probably an effort to keep him from moving away.

  Mohawk snickered. “There a reason you don’t want me to meet the doctor, Striker? Got some kind of claim on her?”

  Striker ignored the question. His impulsive move to protect Lila no doubt looked personal. Mohawk would take that information back to his club and use it to their advantage. The thought of this Mohawk character getting anywhere close to Lila infuriated him for reasons he didn’t have time to delve into. “You guys want to sit down and discuss our business, fine. Name the time and place. This is not it.”

  Mohawk smiled. “You’re probably right. Let’s go boys.” He motioned for the two men to leave, then looked right at Striker. “You’ll be seeing us.” He turned, and strode out after the other two. “Sorry to interrupt your work, pretty doctor,” he called out over his shoulder as he left.

  Striker clenched his jaw against the anger brewing inside him. Lila released a shaky breath that blew against his neck, and her hand was still latched onto his pants. “Go outside. I’ll be there in two minutes.” He nodded toward Jester and Gumby.

  “Got it, VP,” replied Jester. “Fucking Grimms,” he muttered under his breath as he stomped after Gumby.

  Striker turned abruptly, gripped Lila by the arm, and half-dragged her into the hallway where the treatment rooms were. “What the fuck did you think you were doing, Lila?”

  Lila was so stunned by what had just transpired, she didn’t think to protest Striker towing her down the hall. She blinked at him without answering his question and her insides quaked from the lecherous and calculating look the man with the mohawk had had in his eyes.

  “I asked you what the fuck you were doing?” Striker kept his volume low, but his tone was hard and demanding. It matched the frown on his face.

  “Excuse me?” she asked as anger began to chase away the fear. Who did he think he was, questioning her like she was a naughty child? “I heard arguing and came to make sure everything was okay in my place of business.”

  “Well, little lamb, you walked right into the lion’s den, didn’t you?” Striker was in her face now, and he was practically snarling while his hand was still wrapped around her arm in a vice grip that, while he wasn’t hurting her, didn’t allow her to step away, either.

  Lila twisted her arm in an attempt to break free. “Can you please let me go?”

  A startled look crossed his face, as if he didn’t realize he was still holding her. “Sorry.” He released her immediately. “Did I hurt you?”

  She dropped her arm to her side she blew out a breath. “No.”

  Striker ran a frustrated hand through his hair as he paced in front of her, and it hit her. He’d been worried for her safety. His face was drawn in a mask of agitation, and, if she was being honest, Striker in alpha mode was sexy as hell. Who knew this badass biker would get protective over her? A warmth bloomed in her belly at the thought.

  She wanted to reach out and stop him before he wore a hole in the ground. She also had an urge to hold him, and remind him that everything turned out fine. What would he do if she wrapped her arms around him? What would he do if she kissed him?

  God, what was she thinking? She should not be entertaining thoughts of kissing Striker. Hadn’t she just given someone a speech about unethical relationships between providers and patients? The difference was, in the first instance she had no desire to engage in any type of relationship with the man, and in this case, she practically salivated after him.

  “What just happened, Striker? Were those men friends of yours?”

  Lila waited as he took a few deep breaths, in and out, until he had himself back under control.

  “Fuck no. They’re from a rival club. They were flexing their muscles and sending us a message. Don’t mess with them, Lila. Those are some dangerous fucking men. They come near you I want to know, got me?”

&
nbsp; “I’ve been told the same about you, that you’re dangerous.” Why did she say that? It sounded way too much like she was flirting with him.

  Striker stopped his pacing directly in front of her. Lila held her breath as she waited for his reaction to her statement. Standing in the corner of the deserted white hallway, they stared at each other. Lila could have sworn a magnetic force drew him in when he bent forward, and leaned so close to her ear, a gentle puff of air caressed her as his lips moved. “You’re a fucking temptation, Lila. One I should stay away from, because whoever told you that was right. I am dangerous.”

  Her breath hitched at his declaration and the fiery look on his face as he pulled back until their gazes met again. Hot lust burned bright and undisguised in his eyes. She was captivated by his stare. Her lips involuntarily parted to release the breath she had been holding. Striker groaned, and all rational thoughts fled her head. In the same instant, he slid a hand to the back of her head and fused their mouths together.

  Desire exploded through her system as his insistent mouth met hers. Lila snaked her arms around his neck and pulled his body flush against her. His skillful tongue swept into her mouth and tangled with her own, making her dizzy with desire. Just as her body registered the delicious sensation of his hard male torso pressed against her breasts, and his strong arms surrounding her, a voice boomed from the lobby.

  “Striker! Where the fuck are you, brother?”

  Lila jerked her head back, and would have stumbled if not for his arms around her. Holy shit, had she just been kissing the vice president of the No Prisoners? And at her work? Anyone could have walked by; she was surprise no one had.

  Striker tensed around her before he allowed his arms to fall away. Lila took a step back on shaking legs, and noticed that she wasn’t the only one who seemed to be affected by their burst of passion. Striker was breathing just as hard as she was, and there was an unmistakable bulge in his pants. Her face heated for a different reason as she ripped her gaze from that impressive package back up to his face, but of course he’d noticed her staring at his very obvious erection.

  “Good luck on Monday, Doc.” With a wink and a grin, he turned and strode back to the lobby. Seconds later the roar of motorcycles tore out of the parking lot.

  Lila brought hands to her heated face as she tried to regulate her breathing. She chalked the kiss up to a moment of insanity brought on by an adrenaline rush from the tense conflict in the lobby.

  Monday? What was on—oh my God! Had she really forgotten the school board presentation? She needed to stay far away from that man if one kiss could wipe months of hard work from her mind.

  “Dr. Emerson?” A voice laden with concern and disappointment called her name from behind her.

  Shit! Mr. White. She’d completely lost sight of what she was supposed to be doing. Had he seen Striker kiss her? She hoped not. The poor man would be crushed. With her fingers crossed, she started toward the treatment room only to observe Mr. White standing in the doorway, his gaze on her. There was a tearful sheen in his eyes and both corners of his mouth turned down in a dejected frown.

  Lila sighed, so much for getting out of here before the sun came up.

  Chapter Four

  “So, what do you think?” Lila cradled her smartphone between her ear and her shoulder as she reached for the bottle of her favorite Chilean Cabernet and filled her wine glass.

  “I think it’s fantastic, Lila. You have this in the bag. There’s no possible way they can pass. It directly impacts student safety,” Cammie said.

  Lila had been running ideas by her friend for the past few months, and her input on the school sports safety project had been invaluable. Cammie grew up in this town, and knew a lot of the bigwigs on the school board. She had some great insight into what buzzwords they’d want to hear. Lila had wanted to run the final proposal by her last night, but with the way her shift went, time ran away from her.

  “Thanks, Cammie. Let me run through it one more time. I’m not thrilled with the way I worded the part about coaches allowing students to return to play with a possible concussion.”

  Cammie’s laughter floated through the phone. “No, Lila. I’m cutting you off. We ran through it three times. You have it nailed. You need to put it away, and go drink some wine before you psych yourself out. Practice it one more time tomorrow before you present, and you’ll do great. I’ll be there to cheer you on. Maybe I can even dig out my old Crystal Rock High cheerleading outfit. Seems fitting.”

  “You were a cheerleader? Why am I not surprised?” Lila appreciated her friend’s attempts to talk her off the ledge. Panic had set in about midday as she finished writing up the pitch. Lila had put her heart and soul into this project, and the idea of it not succeeding was unacceptable.

  “Hey! Don’t be a hater just because you were in the polo club or whatever it was you rich kids did after school.”

  “Excuse me, spirit girl, I was not in the polo club. But you’re right. I’m putting it away for the rest of the night. Thanks for the ear, Cam.”

  “My pleasure, Doc. See you tomorrow.”

  “Goodnight.” Lila took a sip from her glass, and leaned her head back against the couch. The wine was delicious, and she let her mind wander as the light, oaky flavor with a hint of cherry tickled her senses.

  It was vital to her that the school board accept this project. For the first time since she’d moved to Arizona from Washington, DC, actually for the first time in her life, she had something that was all her own. Something she’d put thought, and hours of hard work into without the backing of her father’s money or the influence of his name.

  She’d had plenty of reasons for leaving home, and no plans to return. Being out from under the influential power of her parents was freeing. In addition, Lila found fulfillment being on the staff of a small town hospital. The position challenged her more than she had anticipated, coming from a busy metropolitan medical center. And now she had the opportunity to take something she was passionate about and turn it into a reality. Getting too nervous about the presentation would be the kiss of death, so she needed to remain calm.

  “Do not think about kissing, Lila,” she scolded herself out loud. Throughout the day her thoughts had drifted back to the previous night’s events, the kiss from Striker in particular.

  She couldn’t pinpoint the exact reason she was so drawn to the man. Well there was the fact that he was gorgeous, with a body that belonged in the biker calendar she’d found herself sneaking a peek at in the bookstore last week. But what concerned her was the knowledge that she was attracted to more than his looks. She loved the way he made her feel when he looked at her and spoke to her—sexy, desired and just a little bit naughty.

  Was that the reason she was drawn to him like a fish to the sea? Because he was so different from any man who’d shown an interest in her in the past? Was this a bit of rebellion bucking against her conservative and formal upbringing? She sighed. This wasn’t a problem she’d solve tonight, so she’d try to let it go for now.

  A loud pounding on the door yanked Lila out of her musings. Her heart lodged in her throat, and her hand flew up to reach for her phone, prepared to dial 9-1-1.

  “Stitch! Open up! It’s an emergency!”

  Lila felt faint as relief coursed through her when she recognized Jester’s voice. He continued to bang on the door without pause, while calling for her. Used to handling emergencies, and the rush of adrenaline that accompanied them, Lila collected herself, and ran to the door.

  “What the hell is going on?” she asked as she threw the door open. Her eyes landed on Striker and she saw heat flare in his face.

  “Damn, girl.” Jester whistled, as he raked his dark, nearly black eyes up and down her body.

  Lila followed his gaze and glanced down. Shit! In the excitement of having unexpected late night visitors, she’d forgotten she wore nothing more than a skimpy tank top and boy short panties.

  “Shut the fuck up, asshole.” Striker’s expr
ession was lethal. “Lila, we need your help, right now. It’s an emergency. We need you to come with us.”

  His words were all business, but there was no mistaking the appreciative way his gaze traveled over her body.

  “Tell me what happened.” Lila chose to ignore their admiring stares as best she could. They needed her in a professional capacity, so she’d try to be professional despite her state of undress.

  “We got a prospect who needs medical attention.”

  “Guys, that’s what the hospital is for. I really can’t…I mean…why aren’t you at the hospital?”

  Striker pierced her with his intense gaze, and it was akin to being burned with a laser. “Sometimes we need to handle our shit quietly.”

  “Right…okay,” she muttered as she ran a trembling hand over her hair, which was loose and flowing down her back. “I’m not sure about this. Do you have any idea the kind of trouble I could get in?”

  “Yes, Lila, and we wouldn’t be here if we didn’t really need your help. I promise you’ll be shielded from any blowback. All parties involved want this kept quiet, so there’s really no risk to you.”

  Lila wanted to decline, but she couldn’t, not while there was an injured man who might not get treatment otherwise. These guys would probably slap a Band-Aid on him and hope for the best if she didn’t help. She prayed she wouldn’t come to regret this later. “Give me thirty seconds to not look like this. There is a very extensive first aid kit over there in the hall closet. Grab it while I throw some clothes on.”

  “No need, darling, you can come as you are.”

  “Jester, I told you to shut the fuck up.”

  She ignored them and dashed into her room, and threw a gray sweater and black skinny jeans over what she had on. Not bothering to check a mirror, she ran back to the hall and stuffed her feet into boots. As she strode toward the door, Lila wrapped a rubber band around her hair, and snatched her purse off the counter.

  She wasn’t wearing a bra, but the look of urgency on their faces had her deciding to save the time it would take to run back and put one on. Her tank top had a built-in bra that would have to suffice.