by Lilly Atlas
“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 expression 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.
Striker held the medical supplies tucked under one tattooed arm, and was tapping his fingers against it as he paced in front of the door. He jerked it open and ushered her out before relieving her of the keys and locking the door behind them. Jester led the group down the concrete driveway toward the bikes that sat at the end, near the dark and deserted road.
“I’ll follow you in my car,” she said.
“No, we’ll take my bike. It’s faster, and then there is no risk of your car being seen anywhere it shouldn’t be.”
As he spoke he strapped her first aid kit quickly to the back of the bike, and pulled her purse from her shoulder, stowing it in his saddlebag. Lila hesitated at his declaration. What the hell was she getting herself into?
Striker didn’t give her any time to try and answer her own question. With a grin, he thrust a glossy black helmet her way. “Ever ridden before?’
“No, never.” She didn’t bother to tell him they called them donor cycles at the hospital. She was able to remain calm at the idea of walking into an unknown medical emergency, she did it all the time, but her heart rate kicked up at the idea of riding on a motorcycle.
“Just hold on tight and relax, try to lean with me if you can, though the holding on ti
ght is the key. I’m gonna be going pretty fast.” He winked as he secured his own helmet.
Lila nodded and shoved the helmet down over her hair. She reached for the clasp only to have her hands brushed away. Striker was so close to her that Lila smelled him with each breath, leather, cigar smoke, and…man. It was an intoxicating combination, and she wished she could lean in, press her nose to his neck, and inhale him.
The strap was too long and he had to adjust it to fit her face. “Thank you for this, Lila,” he said, as he worked to shorten the strap. “I’m sure this isn’t how you wanted to spend your night, but I trust you and your skill more than anyone.” Once the length was correct, Striker worked fast to secure the helmet snugly under her chin.
She was touched by his heartfelt words. When their eyes met, Lila was spellbound by the flare of desire she encountered. He leaned in and kissed her, hard and quick, ending it before it began.
The swiftness of it did nothing to detract from the heat that blasted through her. Thankfully Jester wasn’t paying attention to them. She didn’t even have time to react before Striker turned away, and threw his jean-covered leg over the bike. “Climb on behind me and wrap your arms around my waist.”
Lila did as he commanded. Her front pressed flush against his back, and his firm body was cradled between her thighs as she slid her arms around his middle. She rested her cheek against the cool leather covering the muscular plain of his upper back. An unsteady breath escaped her lungs as Striker gunned the engine then shot down the street, Jester hot on his tail. They sped through a few neighborhoods, and onto the local highway where Striker rested one hand on her thigh despite their speed.
There wasn’t anything for Lila to do but cling to Striker and stare into the night. She relaxed after the first few minutes, when Striker’s mastery of the bike became more than apparent. Plastered against the sexy body of an enticing bad boy, with the endless stars and vastness of the pitch-black desert speeding by, Lila felt free and uninhibited. It would have been remarkable if not for the unknown crisis awaiting her.
The longer they rode, the more the reality of the situation set in. She was almost certainly about to assist in something illegal, and possibly dangerous, with a man who embodied everything she was taught to avoid. All he had to do was ask her for help, and she put her career, her license, and possibly even her life on the line with barely any resistance. There was no way this could lead to anything but trouble.
Chapter Five
Striker sped down the highway, the night’s events replaying in his mind. What was supposed to have been routine club business, collecting protection money from a local bar owner, turned into a gutter brawl when a number of Grimm Brothers showed up.
Tension had always run high between the No Prisoners and the Grimm Brothers, yet they’d managed to coexist in relative peace for years. In the past three months though, there was a shift in the dynamic. The Grimms were making some bold moves on Crystal Rock, and an escalation to violence wasn’t a surprise. Christ, he hoped it wasn’t a mistake bringing Lila in on this, but his options were limited.
Shit. When she stood in the doorway wearing nothing but a few scraps of clothing, he’d nearly forgotten his reason for being there. Striker had to hold himself back from slamming the door in Jester’s face, and pressing Lila up against the nearest wall so he could rip what little she was wearing right off her luscious body. Without clothes the woman was even sexier than he’d fantasized, and he had a vivid imagination, particularly when it came to naked women.
Now, she was draped against him like a second skin, and the heat pouring off her seared into him. Striker made out each of her breasts as they rested against his back, as well as the heat of her sex in the junction of her thighs where it burned into his ass. He wanted nothing more than to pull off the side of the road, drag her onto his lap, and make her scream his name into the quiet night.
Instead, they rushed toward an abandoned warehouse where he was about to ask her to sew up a hole in his prospect’s side, most likely without the proper equipment, and definitely without alerting anyone. He curled one hand around her thigh to anchor her even closer, and knew he’d have to be satisfied with that for now.
After a few more miles, Striker slowed, removed his hand from Lila’s leg and veered off at an exit. Three turns later, they rolled into the parking lot of the warehouse. Both he and Lila jumped off the bike as soon as it stopped, and once he had the first aid kit unstrapped, he propelled her toward the building. He watched Lila glance over her shoulder at Jester who had also dismounted but stayed where he was, turning to survey the area.
“He’s on watch,” Striker said.
She nodded as they approached the dinged and rusty metal door. Striker halted her with a hand on her shoulder before he turned and pinned her with a hard look. “Not a fucking word of this gets breathed to anyone, for any reason. If that’s a problem, you don’t take one fucking step through that door.”
“Your lecture would have been more effective before I got on the bike. I get it. This never happened.” Lila crossed her arms and shook off his hand.
Lila appeared calm and in control. Only the drumming of her fingers against her side under her crossed arms gave away her nerves. Her hair was flattened from the helmet and her pupils were dilated, but if he wasn’t mistaken there was a gleam of excitement in her gaze. Well, well, the little doctor might turn out to be even more fun than he’d anticipated.
“Okay. Some business went bad tonight, and one of our prospects was stabbed in the side. That’s all you get.”
“A stab wound? Jesus, Striker! He could have damage to an organ or a major artery. He’ll have to go to a hospital if that’s the case.”
“Let’s hope nothing major was affected. We can’t have this on anyone’s radar.”
Striker ushered her through the door and toward a couch where the prospect was lying. Rock, another brother, held a towel firmly against the right side of his flank. His muscles bulged with the force of the pressure he exerted on the prospect’s wound.
“Okay, I get why you want to avoid the hospital. You boys keep your fingers crossed that this is a superficial injury. There’s nothing in my kit to numb him up, so I’d get some liquor down him fast if I were you,” she instructed, her tone all business as she looked at the men gathered around.
“One step ahead of you, Stitch,” Gumby said as he held up a bottle of amber brown liquid. “Prospect here is well into a bottle of Jack, and probably wouldn’t even realize if you stabbed him a second time.”
“I doubt that, but I appreciate the effort.” She winked at the prospect who did, in fact, have the glazed look of someone who’d enjoyed more than their share of alcohol. “They call you anything besides prospect?” Striker loved how she made the effort to connect with the prospect. Her relaxed attitude would help keep him calm, and no doubt make her job easier.
“Kwenny,” he slurred. His face was devoid of color and perspiration shone across his brow.
She raised a questioning eyebrow at Striker.
He laughed. “His name is Kenny.”
“Ah. Well, hopefully taking a knife to the gut will push you from prospect status to full member.” Lila smiled at Kenny, and Striker couldn’t help but admire her grace under pressure.
“How long ago did this happen?” she asked the room.
“About an hour ago,” Striker answered.
“It’s great that you have pressure on the wound now. Do you know how long it bled before you were able to plug it up?”
Striker looked to Gumby. He’d been with the prospect the entire time. Striker left to fetch Lila seconds after it happened.
“Not long. I used his T-shirt at first and we’ve been taking turns holding pressure on it the whole time, using that towel.”
“Good work guys. The fact that he’s still conscious is good and leads me to believe he doesn’t have any internal bleeding. Of course there could be a slow bleed that we aren’t aware of, but I won’t be able
to tell without imaging.” She stopped talking and looked around the room. “Is there somewhere I can wash my hands?”
Striker pointed toward the back corner of the warehouse. “Use the men’s room. There’s nothing in the women’s.”
She nodded and jogged toward the restroom. As soon as Lila was out of earshot, Striker turned toward his brothers. “I called Pres, and he set up a meet for tomorrow with the Grimm’s president. We have to shut this shit down.”
Gumby nodded. “This must be drug related. They hate that they can’t use our territory to meet with the cartel.”
“Tough shit. This ain’t their turf, bottom line. Jesus, fastest way to get the cops breathing down our necks would be to run drugs through Crystal Rock.” That and the fastest way to rack up hefty prison sentences.
“For real, we may have half the department in our pocket, but no amount of money would be enough to keep them from investigating international drug trafficking.”
The No Prisoners weren’t saints by any means, and they had their hands in numerous less-than-legal activities, but they had always steered away from drugs, because of the attention trafficking attracted. It also invariably led to club members using, and could self-destruct a club faster than a whore could undress.
The slap of Lila’s feet as she jogged back toward them echoed through the empty space and conversation halted. She slipped her hands into some gloves and rejoined them near the couch.
Lila turned her assessing gaze to the bald, stout man taking a turn holding pressure on Kenny’s wound. “What’s your name?”
“Rock.”
“Thanks. Rock, you can move that towel now, but stay close, I may need you to wipe some blood away.”
Striker observed Lila as she assessed the wound, not exactly sure what she was looking for, but she muttered to herself a few times, and smiled before addressing the group. “Looks like he was extremely lucky. The wound is more of a slash then a true stab. It’s deep enough to require a lot of stitching, but doesn’t appear to have pierced any organs or nicked any major blood vessels. I don’t believe there was a life-threatening amount of blood loss, either.