by Nicole Reed
“Take me to Badger,” Hold said, several miles from the nearest hospital.
She’d been praying for signs directing her to help since they left the site of the accident. Hospital or police department—she’d take either one. And thank God they finally located a blue sign with a large H on it, designating the nearest place she could get him medical attention.
“I’m taking you to the hospital,” Shyla replied to the first words he’d spoken in the last hour. They’d both rode in shocked silence.
“I don’t wanna go. I’m fine. Take me to Badger,” he demanded, with his eyes tightly shut as he rested his head against the seat.
“You could have a concussion,” she said, taking quick peeks of him every few seconds. “Check my phone now. We should be able to call for help.” Hold had held her cell in his hand since they left.
“You’ve been in service for a while. I don’t need the cops or anyone else handling my shit. I said I was fine so take me home.”
Shyla’s jaw fell open when Hold revealed he could’ve already called for help.
“Then why haven’t you called anyone?” she asked incredulously, almost yelling at him. Shyla turned her questioning gaze upon him.
“Because that’s my call,” he responded with a hardened look directed solely toward her.
Shyla instantly knew that he expected her to obey him. Even though he was hurt, his lethal tone was unmistakable—and it pissed her off. She’d risked her own life to turn around and follow him. She sure as hell didn’t do that so he could die on her from a stupid head injury or internal bleeding.
Her temper spiked to an all-time high and her hands trembled from the outrage overriding her emotions. Tears of anger threatened to fall. She slammed both of her feet on the brake, slightly fishtailing her car over the median before coming to a stop in the middle of the road. The miserable groan coming from Hold echoed misery and pain. Good!
“You’re going to the hospital,” she said, the words barely passing through her clenched teeth. Shyla narrowed her eyes at his while pointing her index finger in his face. “Even if I have to drive my piece of shit car, that chased your crazy ass during a gunfight, up to the front doors and literally drag what is left of you inside.” A strand of hair fell in front of her watery eye and she angrily pushed it back to continue to glare at Hold.
“Fuck this shit,” he said, reaching for the door handle.
“I risked my life for you,” Shyla whispered, her courage finally faltering. More tears threatened behind her eyelids and her hands began to tremble uncontrollably. She watched Hold witness her complete breakdown.
“Why?” Hold asked, not opening the door. He stared quizzically at her.
“I don’t know why.” She quietly cried, shaking her head. “I saw that it was you.”
Hold blurred behind the tears that fell. Shyla buried her face into her hands and wept. Would she have turned around to help just anyone? She’d like to think she would’ve, but the truth was that when she’d seen it was Hold, Shyla didn’t think twice. Something about him called to her.
The feel of his hand briefly against her bare shoulder made her shiver. Hold hugged her securely against his bruised and battered body. She didn’t lift her head, but rested it on his injured shoulder. Everything that’d happened came crashing down around her, releasing the emotions that swamped her senses.
“It’s alright,” Hold said softly into her ear. “Shh… don’t cry.”
She felt him gently pat her back before his movements turned into more of a soothing massage. Hold was trying to coax her down from the anxiousness overwhelming her and it was working. Her sobs became lingering hiccups in no time. Shyla had completely forgotten that she’d used her shirt to staunch his wound, leaving her naked from the waist up, except for her lacy aqua-colored bra. Hold seemed not to notice or care. In fact, other than the pain he must feel, he appeared relatively calm for what’d happened.
The sound of a horn blaring as it drove by reminded her where they were, precariously parked in the middle of the road.
“I’ll go to the hospital,” he said, pulling back to stare at her. “Just take me.”
Shyla nodded. She didn’t feel the need to answer him considering she was emotionally drained. They drove the rest of the way in silence.
When they arrived she parked in the first empty space.
“You could’ve just dropped me off at the front,” Hold said, getting out of the car and hobbling toward the emergency room entrance.
“I’ll go with you,” Shyla answered, following him. Thankfully, she’d noticed a zipped hoodie in the backseat of her car. It might look funny to be wearing it during summertime, but at least it would prevent her getting jailed for public indecency.
“I’m good,” he called behind him.
She didn’t think he realized just how bad he looked. Not that he didn’t look gorgeous even banged up, because he did. Every inch of his skin was badly abraded, with a bright red series of blotches covering him, along with deep lacerations crisscrossing his entire body. His face was red and puffy, the beginnings of swelling evident with tinges of pale blue and green.
“I’m still staying to take you home.”
Hold slowly stopped and turned to face Shyla. “Here’s the deal. Don’t breathe a word of what really happened today. If anyone asks you, tell them I accidentally crashed my bike and you happened to be driving by.”
“But…” she started, but he interrupted, holding his hand up between them.
“This is club business, Shyla. I know you understand what that means. Right?” he asked, staring at her. The blue of his eyes was dulled by the tiredness that showed plainly on his face.
Shyla reluctantly nodded. This was code for shut your mouth. Hold continued his trek into the hospital where he was instantly ushered back into the ER to be examined. She knew she needed to call her Aunt Diamond and let her know where she was and that she was okay but Shyla needed time to figure out her story along with Hold.
On tired feet, she plodded over to an empty seat in the waiting room to anxiously wait.
“Nothing seems to be broken and luckily for you, no concussion. It looks like you’ve some bruised ribs and horrible road rash that’s going to sting for a couple of days. I’ll write you a prescription for some pain meds,” the young doctor said before turning to exit the small room Hold occupied.
He felt like dog shit. No matter what the doc said, every single bone in his body felt pulverized. Hold couldn’t believe that he didn’t have some type of head injury because he still felt dizzy after being in the emergency room for about six hours. And it’d been a long time to think about what’d happened to him today.
The men in the Firebird had hidden the bottom half of their face’s with a bandana. Hold knew for a fact it was nobody from the club; he could at least tell that much. But that didn’t mean Ward or someone else hadn’t had them on the lookout for Hold. They obviously knew he’d be coming into town at some point and had acted on it. Once again his stomach churned at the thought of the ongoing underhanded shit.
As much as he wanted to go all half-cocked on somebody, he knew that wasn’t the smart move. He’d play it off like he did with all the other attempts on his life. Eventually, someone was going to slip up and out himself—or themselves. Hold had to have some patience and proof before he accused anyone within the club. Especially Ward.
Hold slid his cut on. The leather was scratched all to hell, matching his body, but it amazingly was still intact. Just like the Hell’s Highwaymen Motorcycle Club. It may take a beating, but the club held together.
The nurse came in the room one last time to discharge him. He sorely ambled toward the exit. Hold hadn’t only spent a lot of time thinking about today’s events, but also about Shyla. It surprised him to see her sleeping awkwardly in one of the waiting room chairs, her body scrunched sideways in the seat so that her head rested against the back. Shyla’s blonde hair covered her dirt-stained, tear-streaked cheeks.
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He’d thought she would’ve taken off by now, gotten as far away as she possibly could from his shit life. Hold had heard a horn blowing as he lay dazed in the bushes. It had to have been her, scaring off the bastards who attacked him. He remembered passing a car during the shootout. However, at that time he was only worried about himself and didn’t even notice it was Shyla. She must’ve turned around and come back. For him.
What kind of idiot drives toward a shootout, with no weapon herself? He’d asked for her gun when she’d helped him to her car only to find she had nothing. Who goes to a gunfight without even a knife? All she had was a cell phone with no service. It absolutely blew Hold’s mind.
“Hey,” he said, grabbing Shyla’s shoulder to shake her. “Wake up.”
Her eyes popped open and Shyla sat straight up in the chair. “What time is it?” she asked, covering a yawn with her hand.
He watched Shyla sift her fingers through her messy hair. At some point her makeup had rubbed off and she definitely wasn’t at her finest moment. Hold didn’t care. Shyla was beautiful to him, just like this. Not expecting anything from him, but being here anyway. He saw what Mikey must’ve seen from the get-go: someone who was genuine. Who didn’t expect anything in return and didn’t seem like she’d run at the first sign of trouble. Because sometimes all this life continued to be was fucking trouble.
“Late. Have you called to let anyone know where we are?”
“No,” she said, shaking her head as she stood to follow him. “I didn’t want to say the wrong thing.”
“Smart. We’ll call Badger from your cell once we get to the car.”
They walked in silence. He climbed into the passenger side and reached for the phone she offered him. Hold searched for Badger’s number and dialed it.
Diamond answered, her voice sounding frantic. “Where are you, young lady? We’ve been worried sick.”
“It’s Hold, Big D,” he answered.
“Where is she?” Diamond asked, not masking the anger that rang loud and clear.
“Shyla’s fine. She happened to be driving by after I laid my bike down. We’ve been at the ER all day,” Hold said, glancing over at a worried Shyla.
“You okay then?” she asked, the concern leaking back into her voice.
“I survived. Listen, I need to talk to Badger.”
“Let me grab him, hon.”
“What the hell is goin’ on?” Badger asked, in a no-nonsense tone. “D said you horizontally parked.”
“That’s the story,” he said sarcastically. “I’ll explain everything later. We’re on our way to Hard Ink now.”
“See ya then,” Badger said, ending the call.
Shyla didn’t say anything to him. She must’ve heard what Hold said to her family.
“I don’t think Big D likes me bein’ round you,” Hold said, watching for her reaction.
“She has her reasons,” Shyla said, not denying it. Her eyes never left the road as she drove back to Harmony.
“Did she say what they were?” Hold asked, curious to what extent Diamond had filled Shyla in on his past.
“Some,” she answered honestly. Shyla tried to continually tuck a piece of hair behind her ear, but it wouldn’t stay.
He was staggered at the rush of irritation at anyone talking about his past to her. It wasn’t anyone’s business. “Fuck me! People need to keep their goddamn mouths shut,” Hold stated through clenched teeth, slinging his head back against her car’s headrest.
“Probably,” Shyla uttered. A stricken look crossed her face.
Hold couldn’t stand it anymore. He turned his head to glare out the window. Why did it bother him to think she knew about his past? Or that she thought he was a complete and utter bastard? It didn’t help his situation at all.
“Hey, Hold, you got time to work on a piece of Jap crap?” Shady hollered across the garage. His lanky body leaned against a cement wall. He’d covered his shaggy blond hair with a grey trucker hat that read Dawson’s Garage in black lettering.
The motorcycle Shady referred to was a Kawasaki Ninja that had been dropped off earlier. Hold had been busy all morning finishing up a tune-up on a Ford Expedition, but was almost done. He was moving slower than normally because of his injuries that weren’t healing as fast as he’d like.
“Yeah. Give me a sec,” he answered, his body freezing at what he spotted.
Hold’s eyes swung to Sage’s office door where Shyla had just stepped out. She turned back to talk to his mom who stood in the open doorway. He hadn’t seen her since the incident last week. Once they’d arrived back at Hard Ink, she went straight to her apartment and he’d not seen her since. His thoughts had been a fucked-up mess.
She’d kept his secret. Not many chicks knew when to keep their traps shut. He automatically knew Shyla did. It’d been a tough week. Everyone had heard about his accident. Carrie had gotten on his fucking nerves with her babying, so Hold had told her they needed a break. He had zero interest in messing around with her at the moment.
Shyla’s narrow shoulders shook with laughter at something his mom must’ve said. A small smile brightened her face, making his heart rapidly beat inside of his chest. She appeared happy. He watched her say goodbye to Sage before turning to catch him staring across the garage.
Her hand lifted a brown paper sack and the smile spread wider across her face. “Lunch?” she mouthed, and playfully shook the bag in her hand.
Hold’s mouth watered. And not for the food. As she strolled his way, her short white shorts revealed shapely legs. Shyla wasn’t very tall, a petite package, with smarts and a heart. Damn! Mikey had hit the pussy jackpot.
“For me?” Hold asked in surprise when she reached him.
She nodded. “Sage asked me out to lunch and she brought you back a sub sandwich. She wanted me to run it out to you. I think she’s worried you don’t eat enough.”
Shyla jiggled the bag in front of his nose. He laughed and swiped it from her.
“That would be Sage. If I ate everythin’ she brought me, I’d have an ass as big as Badger’s,” Hold said, peeking into the bag to keep from staring at her.
Damn, she smelled fucking good, like peaches and cream. He didn’t care for the food, but for the girl standing in front of him—someone who was so off-limits that he couldn’t even think about going there.
“Are you going to eat that now? I could keep you company,” Shyla said, her eyes blinking innocently up at him. “I don’t have to be back at Hard Ink today.”
If she only knew his thoughts, she’d run fast. Maybe that’s what he should do, just act like the asshole he normally was and let her walk on. God knows there was nothing for either of them here.
“Uh… I wasn’t plannin’ on takin’ a lunch,” he stammered, his eyes not meeting hers, but the floor.
“Okay. I thought it’d give me a chance to find out if you’d heard from Mikey?” she asked, her voice lowered just for him.
His gaze returned to hers. Shyla didn’t give away any clue, any reaction over his rejection. Maybe he was overthinking this shit.
“Yeah, he’s fine. Look, I changed my mind about lunch. You wanna join me out back at one of the picnic tables?” he asked, watching her nod. “Alright, follow me.”
He started for the back door, stopping to grab a cold soda out of the machine. The sky was overcast with gray clouds scattered around. Hold stopped at the first table and they both slid to sit opposite one another. Slowly he pulled the sandwich out of the bag, unwrapping it, before flipping the top back on his Coke. Hold gulped down some of the fizzy drink. The bubbles tickled the inside of his mouth and he held back a belch.
“So is everything good with Mikey?” she asked, tilting her head to smile at him.
“Yeah. Missin’ him already?” he teased, glancing up to watch her blush. He took a bite out of the sandwich.
“Maybe. I’m thinking he owes me a ride on his bike this time,” she answered. “Speaking of, I never really got a chance to thank yo
u for taking the time to give me a ride.”
“Yeah, me too,” Hold said, chewing the bland food in his mouth. So was she going to pretend like his accident didn’t happen? Isn’t that what he’d asked of her?
He watched her absently scratch at the wooden picnic table. For some unknown reason he could tell that she was upset and he wanted to know why. It’d been a long time since he cared enough to even ask.
“What’s wrong, Shyla?” Hold asked, reaching over the table to gently tip her chin up with his finger. He wanted her to look him in the eyes. Her pale blue gaze lifted to his.
Shyla stared at him. “You still have a lot of swelling. Does your face hurt?” she asked, in a hushed voice.
A warmth spread through his chest and Hold retracted his arm. Her question shouldn’t have made him extremely happy, but it did, to know that she cared. It was wrong—he knew it. He’d lain in bed at night, wondering what Diamond had said to her, worrying that Shyla thought him a monster.
“It gets better every day,” he said, closely watching her nod her head.
Shyla’s eyes found his: they both stared at each other. She lifted her hand, but quickly placed it down on the table. He knew she wanted to touch his face. The ugly shades of bruises didn’t do him any favors, but she didn’t seem to mind.
“Did you find out who did this to you?”
“Not yet. But I will,” Hold answered, balling his food up and tossing it into the trash sitting nearby. He had to get a handle on what was happening here. Whatever it was wasn’t good for either one of them.
“I told you he was out here,” Shady said from behind him.
Hold turned his head to see the prospect leading Carrie straight to where they sat. No one could misread Carrie’s pissed expression directed solely toward Shyla.
“Sage is looking for you,” Carrie said to Hold, angrily crossing her hands under her heaving chest.
“Alright,” he answered, glancing between her and Shyla.
“Hey, Carrie,” Shyla said, giving Carrie a quick smile and finger wave.