It's seconds before the other three are on me. There's a fist to my ribs and one to my back that makes my whole body scream in shock, but I'm not going down. I'm going to end this fight tonight. Right here. Me and the four of them.
One goes for my face, but I move too fast, and while he's trying to figure out how he missed, I land a right to his jaw. He falls, twisting in a heap on the floor. No one has taken the time to toughen him up.
In Tempest Elite, we fight the prospects daily, adding to their thick skin and pain tolerance with each blow. I've taken so many punches I don't feel the next few or the kicks, or the fist that lands above my eye and leaves a trail of blood streaming down my forehead.
I'm not even sure where I'm striking back, or if I'm landing any throws. It's chaos, and for the first time in hours, Bree isn't at the center of my mind. There is no room for her here, so I keep throwing punches and taking more than a few from the guys until I have two laid out on the floor, one battling to stand on his own two feet, and the road leader staring me down.
He's not even winded yet, and I know he's my best shot at oblivion. If I can get him down, I've won. He takes a swing that lands on my right side, and I feel the crack of my rib, but I don't fall. I'm too angry to even notice the pain. Instead, I pull back before slamming my head into his and landing a fist to his lower back.
His entire body jerks forward and up before he lands on his knees, staring at me. It's enough. I've proven my point. I can stop anytime I want and just walk away, but that won't bring Bree back. It won't stop David from ending his life. So Instead, I wind up for the blow that will put him down. I'm mid-throw when I hear "Jorden" called from across the room. It's Bree's voice, and I'm sure I've imagined it until I turn and she's standing there in the doorway of the pool room.
It's the last thing I see before something connects with my eye socket, and I'm off-balance enough to fall, hitting my head on a table on the way down, and then everything goes black.
Bree
"Jordan," I scream into the mix of yelling and loud grunts. The whole bar is standing in the doorway of a small back room, cheering on a four against one fight.
As soon as I lunge forward, Doc wraps a meaty arm around my middle, and when I attempt to fight him, I'm lifted off my feet. I punch into the air and scream for Jordan again, but I can't tear loose.
"Please," I beg, twisting and clawing at Doc's arm, but he pulls me back into his chest, and I have no chance of getting free.
I'm left to helplessly watch Jordan take one blow after another. Even after he's on the floor and not moving, the beasts keep kicking and punching. Over and over, Jordan's body jerks, but it's only the force of the blows.
"Help him," I cry to Doc before trying to push my way free again.
His hold tightens. "I can't until you stop fighting me and stay put."
There's no chance I'm going to agree to that, but I stop squirming, hoping to gain his trust.
Another sickening thick moan fills the air, and I throw my body against Doc’s arms until his hold breaks, and I'm free to shove through the crowd and throw myself over Jordan's body.
"Stop." I hold my arms out, blocking him from any more blows. It's seconds before fingers dig into my sides and attempt to drag me away, but I'm not as weak as they think. Once the guy has me on my feet, I put all my weight into his chest and throw my head back into his chin hard enough, I hear his teeth crash together, and he drops me.
On my hands and knees, I crawl back and lay over Jordan. No one is getting another chance at him unless they can rip my fingers from my hands because I'm not letting go of him again.
At my back, the crowd yells louder, and a dark shadow falls over me. Not again. Please, anything but another kick to Bear's ribs and punch to his face. I duck my head and flatten my body to cover as much of his as I can.
There's blood on my hands, and I taste the tang of it on my lips. It's the only thing I see other than his closed eyes and purple face. "Jordan." I cup his cheeks. "Please, Jordan. I'm not done with you yet. Please. Come back to me."
A sudden silence falls over the room, and I wait for the next blow, preparing myself to take the brunt of the impact, but it never comes. Fingers dig into my sides again, and I fight back, twisting my body and kicking my legs and feet out at anything I can reach. I make contact with something solid and hear my name moaned into my ear before I'm free again.
"Gunner," I throw my hands over my mouth and turn to find him kneeling on the ground. Everly is behind him, wide-eyed and shaking. Doc pushes past us both, followed by a wall of black leather. I've never seen the membership in full force, but they fill the bar and the small room. The Devil's members are cornered along the back wall, and Doc kneels next to Jordan.
"He needs a doctor. Someone call 911." I don't recognize the voice speaking and am surprised when I realize it's me.
Everly steps forward and holds my shoulder. "No. You can't call anyone Bree. Half the club will be arrested."
"But, Bear," I sob into her face.
"I know. I know," Everly nods. "They have him. Doc and Gunner and the others. They have him."
"Ever, get her out of here," Gunner yells before Everly grabs my hand and tugs toward the door. "We'll get Bear to the clubhouse."
"I can't leave him."
"Come on," she says, pulling harder until I'm off balance and have to either follow her or fall over. "The cops are coming. We have to go."
I want to plant my feet and refuse to move, but Everly is moving too fast, and in the background, the sirens are already piercing the night air. We make it to her car, and I'm barely in the door before she peels out of the parking lot and down the highway toward the clubhouse.
It takes me a minute to catch my breath before I can ask what will happen to Bear. "I can't believe we left him," I cry out.
"We didn't." Everly drops her hand to mine. She's shaking as badly as I am, but her voice is calm. "This is how we do things, Bree. We take care of our own. Doc and Gunner have it under control. You'll see."
I shake my head in disbelief, and I shut my eyes, but all I see is Bear's face, broken and bloody, and his blue lips and have to open them again.
"Why?" I cry when I can't hold it in any longer. "Why did he do that? Four against one. It's like he wanted to die."
Everly doesn't answer, and I know it's because she agrees with me. She drives the rest of the way to the clubhouse in silence, and when we pull up to the front gate, the prospects run to pull it open.
"How's Prez?" One leans into Everly's window and asks.
"He's bad. Better call the butcher if you haven't already."
"Done already. He'll be here in five."
Everly nods and pulls forward up the side of the main building.
"Who is the butcher?" I work up the nerve to ask once we're out of the car and making our way to the front door.
Everly doesn't stop walking to answer. "He's our doctor."
"Like Doc?"
She stops. Her eyes soften, and she half-smiles at me. "I'm so sorry, Bree. You've fit right in so fast, I forget you're new to all of this. The butcher is a real doctor. Works under the table and doesn't ask questions. Most of the boys aren't comfortable seeing anyone else. In this case, he won't ask how Bear got hurt, so he won't have to report it to the police."
I nod. I want to ask more, but headlights shine in my eyes, and it's Gunner's truck, followed closely by a dark SUV.
"He's here," Everly says and takes off in a sprint for the front doors. Once inside, she announces the arrival, before heading to the pool table in the center of the lobby and clearing it off.
The sweet butts are all at one table, watching while the men stand and head for the door.
I don't know what to do or where to go until the group comes pouring through the doors with Bear lifted on the shoulders of four guys. They lay him on the table, and an older man in a jean vest and overalls steps forward with a black leather bag.
"You all know the drill. Clear the room ex
cept for the essentials. Someone call my wife and tell her it's gonna be a long one." He glances at Gunner. "You know what I like. Make it a double."
The room disperses. Members pick up sweet butts and head off down the hallways.
The butcher takes a sweep of the room and catches me standing near the bar. "I said, everyone. This isn't a place for a lady."
"I'm a nurse. I'm not leaving," I say before Gunner speaks up.
"She's Bear's. She stays."
The room is silent for too long before the doctor speaks up again. "If you're going to be here, at least be useful. Here. Come hold his hand. This is going to hurt like hell."
I don't need to be told twice. I wrap my fingers softly around Bear's limp fingers. I doubt he's going to feel anything or even know I'm here, but if there is a chance I can bring him some comfort, I'm all in.
Hours seem to pass in the thirty minutes it takes the doctor to sew up gashes and bandage deep scraps. He examines Bear's nose and cheeks and hands and cuts his shirt off to expose large purple and black bruises on his chest and abs.
Setting a rib is the worst part, but Bear doesn't move or make a sound.
"The bones will heal on their own, and you know how to pull out the stitches in a couple of weeks. He's gonna wish he died tonight, but in a month he'll be healed up. Everly may need to work with him on his range of motion in his shoulders, but other than that, the boy is lucky he isn't worse off. I'm guessing you'll know what to do with this."
The doctor hands me a package of wrapped gauze and bandage tape.
"Give him anti-inflammatories for at least a week, but not so much that he doesn't know he broke a few ribs. He's tough enough to live with the pain as a reminder if he's tough enough to take on four Devils at a time. Keep him wrapped up as tight as he can stand around the ribs and for chrissakes, keep him out of that damn bar."
"Done," Gunner answers, before leading the doctor back to the front. Doc left a while ago, leaving me alone with Bear.
He's so massive, he takes up the whole table, and when I reach for his hand and take it in my, I'm struck by how small my fingers are next to his. Such a big guy to be caring around so much pain.
Pain I added to the reason he went all fight club in the bar, I'm sure.
I press my forehead to his and listen to his breathing. He takes shallow breaths, but he's alive, and that's all I can ask for.
"Jordan. I'm so sorry I told you about David that way. I was angry, and I knew his death would hurt you. I shouldn't have dropped that on you and left."
A groan leaves his lips. I pull away enough to see his one good eye open through the swelling. "But you came back," he whispers before wincing in pain.
"You're awake." I brush my hand over his face and lay it on his cheek. "I thought I'd lost you there."
I'm sure he meant to laugh, but the sound comes out a mix of a cough and a groan. "I did lose you." He reaches for my hand. His grip is weak. "But you came back. Why?"
I wish I could see into both of his eyes. I need to be able to read his reaction when I tell him I didn't plan on ever seeing him again. "When Doc called and told me what you were going to do...I saw David in my head. He hid his pain so well, I didn't see it until it was too late. But you…" I smile to keep from crying. "I thought leaving would solve everything. You could get back to your life as if I'd never told you about David, and I could move on knowing I'd done all I could to find my answers. But, when Doc called, I knew running wasn't going to solve anything for either of us. I couldn't save David because he never opened up to me. But, you did. You said enough for me to hear the pain you live with, and I can't walk away from that. I can't walk away from you."
Jordan's eye closes and opens again. I can't tell if it's the medication the doctor added to his skin for the sheen of a tear, and I don't really care which, because I know what happened tonight has changed us both.
"We're better together than apart," I say, licking my lips to fight the dryness in my mouth. "You're the piece I never knew was missing."
Jordan's mouth curves up slightly. "You've known me less than a week, Bree. How can you be sure of that?"
I take his hand in mine and prop my hip up on the table so I can lean into his face, and he can read my face when I say, "Because David knew. He knew what he was about to do and that he wouldn't be around, so David sent me to whom he trusted. He sent me to you. And that's enough of a reason for me to stick around long enough to see if what we have is real."
Jordan wraps one arm around me and pulls me onto the table next to him. "So, you came back for David?"
I grin. My heart is pumping so hard it's about to explode out of my chest, and I can't hide the sudden rush of happiness that washes over me. I stare into Jordan's eye, and I answer his question with all of my heart and soul.
"No, silly. I came to find you because David told me to. I came back for you because somewhere along the way, I saw what he did, and I fell in love."
"You love me?" Jordan pulls me closer until I'm hovering over his chest, trying not to crush him. "You really think you can love a broken down hardass like me?"
"No," I answer, dropping down until my lips hover over his, and I can hear his breathing catch, waiting for me to speak again. "I don't think I can love you, Jordan Jacobs. I know that I already do."
I don't expect Jordan to have much strength left after the fight that almost killed him or the doctor patching him up with no pain meds, but the way he pulls me down on top of him and claims my mouth with his proves me wrong.
I'm dead wrong about a lot of things that have to do with this man. Wrong about him being a jerk. Wrong about him never being able to love. Wrong about not fitting into his world. But the one thing I am right about, I remember as he kisses the breath right out of my lungs, is the fact that as broken as we both are when we're together, we fit and make each other whole.
And for that, I will forever be grateful.
Epilogue
Bear
Six months later…
I never get tired of this view. I'm standing in the doorway of the back room of the shop, watching Bree bend over to count inventory. She's wearing a Tempest Elite tank top tied up at her midriff and a pair of denim shorts that hold every curve of her hips and ass as if they were tailor-made to fit her.
Fuck, my ol' lady is gorgeous.
"Bear."
Doc's voice snaps me back to the sales floor. He's been complaining ever since he's long time assistant at his storage warehouse retired and he's been dealing with temps until he can find a suitable replacement.
"With all the prospects we have, you can't just pick one to run your office?" I argue. I'm sick of this same topic every time he stops by the store. I'd much rather be standing in the backroom doorway admiring my soon to be wife's assets.
"You know the benefits of a pretty face behind the counter as well as I do."
"I do." And I wouldn't mind his walking out now so I could appreciate those benefits in private. I'm hard as a fucking rock just watching Bree work. She reaches high for a box on the top shelf, and her tank rides so far up her body I'm half expecting to be flashed. That damn knot keeps the fabric from rolling up past the base of her breasts, and I suck in a breath.
"Bear. You're the prez. I'm coming to you with an issue and--"
"I'm the prez of the club. Not your personal business manager." I turn sharply to Doc. When I realize he's privy to the same show that's making my balls tight, I reach for the door and close Bree in behind it.
My ol' lady has won over the affections of every standing member and most of the prospects. In the months since my last bar fight, she's moved into my suite and has taken over the sweet butts. She insisted they be called mamas instead, which has most of the membership pissed.
But, she's the prez's ol lady, so what she wants, she gets.
I know exactly what Doc is after coming to my shop at the end of the day like this. "She's staying here if that's what you came here to ask."
Doc slams hi
s fist on my glass counter, and I snarl in reply.
"Damn it, Bear. Bree's the only woman who's made my place run without causing drama and girl shit. Can you at least ask her to come back part-time? I'll pay double."
"No." I fight a grin. Doc and Bree have had a hate/hate relationship since she showed up at the clubhouse six months ago, and it's only gotten worse since she filled in for his receptionist for a week before quitting. "Maybe if you treat your girls better, they'll stick around."
Doc growls and throws his hands in the air. "Fuck that. I should have known you wouldn’t share."
"Share." My voice is full of gravel. I get Doc's meaning, but Bree isn't a sweet butt or a mamma. Now, she's my ol' lady, and there is no sharing when it comes to that bond. Not even in the professional sense of the word.
"Get out," I demand, pointing at the door. It's closing time anyway, and I have a woman in the back I've been waiting since lunch to fuck. Hell, who am I kidding? I've been waiting my whole damn life to make Bree mine. I just didn't know it.
"Fine, but I hate using the temp agency. If I lose my warehouse over this shit, the club is gonna have to bail me out."
"Gladly." I follow Doc to the front. I'd give him the whole damn treasury if he'd just get the hell out of my shop.
Doc steps out the door and turns back to me, but I already have the lock engaged, and I pull the shade down over his face. I have more productive things to think about than his anger issues causing his business to fail.
I have a woman waiting for me in the backroom, even if she doesn't know I'm coming for her. The surprise is half the fun.
Now that I have Bree in my life, I'm never giving her a reason to leave me again. I'm going to spend the rest of my days making her the happiest ol' lady on earth...even if it kills me because I'd rather die than spend a day without her by my side.
I send a silent thank you up to David, who I know is smirking at what he put together before he left us. He always was the planner in the group.
"Thanks, brother." I toss up to the ceiling and smile. "Thanks for bringing my girl home."
Bear Page 8