SCORE: Hell’s Seven MC Biker Romance

by Jolie Day

  Lauren shook thoughts of him from her mind and focused her attention on the road. The car was silent now; no smart retorts from Mr. Kelly or brushes of their skin. When she glanced sideways at him, she found his eyes closed, as if he were sleeping. If he’d truly been riding all day, he probably was exhausted. Perhaps that’s what had caused the accident.

  By the time she pulled into her driveway, night had fallen and the lights were still on in her house. She could hear Emma’s soft barking with the car windows open as she awaited her master’s return. Lauren smiled at that, knowing that Emma could recognize not only the sound of her tires on the gravel driveway, but also her presence—even from so far away—otherwise, she’d be barking hard and loud in the hopes of scaring off intruders.

  She was a good dog.

  Lauren turned off the engine and nudged the man on her passenger side awake. “We’re here,” she announced as she reached for her door handle and stepped out of the Jeep, stretching herself out. He wasn’t the only one that had had a long day and now it looked as if she’d be up late, filling out those forms in her bedroom. She would probably hole herself up with Emma behind the locked door and work until she couldn’t see straight anymore. And still, she probably wouldn’t be able to sleep, knowing that a strange man was in the house.

  Even when there wasn’t a strange man in the house, Lauren found it hard to sleep straight through the night. Since him, things like sleep and a feeling of security were hard to come by.

  At least she had a gun.

  Joe’s truck was parked in front of Marc’s Harley by the time she reached him. The older man slipped out of his car, sans cane, and limped to the bike. “Give me a hand here, Doc?” he requested and she rushed over, helping him to pick the machine up so that it was standing and he put down the kickstand to keep it up. “Tell Sleeping Beauty over there to come clear out his things before I get it on the rig. And hurry. I should have been home for supper ten minutes ago. Marie is gonna kill me.”

  “Just tell her you were spending time with me. I’m sure she’ll understand.”

  “Oh yeah,” Joe laughed. “She’ll be real thrilled that I was spending time with my young beautiful doctor instead of running home to her at the end of a long workday.” He gave Lauren a thumbs up as she laughed. “Anyway, tell your limping pal there that the tow is free, because he’s a friend of yours, but the repairs are gonna cost him a pretty penny.”

  Marc huffed, coming to a stop next to Lauren. “Seriously?”

  “Yep, it’s not going to be cheap, with the damage I see already. And that’s without tearing into it. Could be more damage—won’t know till I get it back to the shop.” Joe admitted, shrugging his shoulders as he made his way back to the truck.

  “He’d better not try and pull one over on me,” Marc whispered, forcefully, to Lauren and she snorted.

  “He’s a sweetheart,” she retorted. “And the best mechanic you’re going to find outside of a city for a few hundred miles.”

  “He said you were his doctor?” Marc asked, limping toward the Harley. “What’d he have?”

  “That’s confidential information,” Lauren said.

  “So?”

  “So, I took an oath,” she huffed. “Not only morally-binding, but legally, as well. If you wanna know more about Joe’s health, you ask him.”

  “I doubt he would be open to that converstion,” Marc scoffed. “He reminds me of a few fathers I’ve dealt with in the past. Not so much in appearance, but in the way that he glares at me; like I’m trying to cop a feel on his kid before prom.”

  “He’s protective.” Lauren shrugged. “He raised four daughters and you tend to care for those that care about you.”

  “Even if it’s the person’s job to care about you?”

  “It’s not just my job,” Lauren huffed, following him to the saddlebag on the Harley, where he pulled out a rolled up sleeping bag and an old black leather jacket with the words Hell’s Seven MC and something that looked like a skull with wings on it. Lauren glanced back at the saddlebag as he continued pulling items out, mostly wrinkled articles of clothing that carried a strong scent. “When was the last time you washed those?” she asked, pinching her nose.

  “Not many washing machines on the road,” Marc admitted. “Mind if I use yours?”

  “I insist on it, actually,” Lauren said, keeping her face pointed away from the stench of his dirty clothes.

  “It’s not that bad,” Marc said.

  “Trust me,” Lauren said. “It’s that bad.”

  “Whatever,” Marc huffed. “Do you know when your friend is gonna finish these repairs? I’d kind of rather be out of here sooner than later.”

  “You can’t drive this thing until your ribs get better,” Lauren informed him, “or the pain could get a lot worse real fast. It’s best that you spend a couple of days in town.”

  “At your place?” Marc looked, evenly into Lauren’s eyes.

  Lauren pressed her lips together, feeling the heat rise in her cheeks as she looked away. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the corners of his mouth turn up at her reaction and it sent a tingle of pleasure up her spine. Clearing her throat, she started back toward Joe’s window. He was leaning out of it, his chin tucked onto his arm.

  “That boy is like a snake,” he said. “You better watch out for him. Call me if he tries anything.” He handed her his business card—of which she already had six in her wallet. “Any time of day or night. Don’t you dare hesitate. Marie would kill me if I let anything happen to my guardian angel.”

  “Sounds more like you’re my angel, Joe,” she pointed out, with a chuckle.

  “Mutual guardianship, then. Which reminds me; Marie wants you to come over for dinner one of these nights. Now, I told her that you don’t have much time for silly meals with old couples, but you know my wife. She don’t take no for an answer. Besides, according to her, you’re the only reason I’m alive today to see my first grandchild and she wants you to meet him, as well.”

  “I’ll check my schedule,” Lauren promised, before moving back as Joe stepped out of the vehicle, leaning a little too heavily on his cane. “You’re going to ruin your shoulder,” she warned.

  “Eh,” Joe huffed. “I’ll be fine. I only do this after long work days. It gives me a little sympathy with Marie.” He winked and Lauren laughed, rolling her eyes. She watched him limp to the Harley and practically shove the cane at Marc to hold as he rigged it up to the tow truck. Then he snatched the cane and limped back to his seat. Lauren watched this all with an amused grin. Marc just frowned.

  “Old coot,” he murmured, walking back to her side with his smelly clothes tucked under his arm.

  “Okay, seriously,” Lauren replied, “you really have to go put those in the washer.”

  “And risk getting attacked by your dog?” Marc laughed, humorlessly. “Yeah, right.”

  “She doesn’t bite,” Lauren retorted. “Much.”

  “Funny.” he snorted.

  They watched the Harley slide up the back of the tow truck and Lauren tossed the keys to Joe as he held out his hand for them. “Thanks for your help, Joe!” she called out.

  “No problem, Doc!” he called back. “Should be ready in a couple of days.”

  “Sooner rather than later, please,” she called after him, glancing nervously at the broad-shouldered man beside her. Despite her attraction to Marc Kelly, there was something mysterious about him. It was almost like he wasn’t who he was trying to be; his clothes and actions gave the impression that he came from a rough past, but something about him told her that he came from affluence. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it, though.

  “I’ll be gone in no time.” Marc said, gruffly, as Lauren led him up the path to her house and even offered her hand to help him up the stairs. He ignored it, straightening his back and ignoring the pain in his knee and ribs as he took heavy, authoritative steps to the door. “I thought you said I couldn’t go anywhere for the next couple of days, anywa
y.”

  “You can’t,” Lauren confirmed with a curt nod. “Still, I figured you’d rather get your bike back quickly, so you can leave once you do feel up to it.” She unlocked the door. “Wouldn’t you?”

  “The last thing I want is to be stuck in a lame town like this for longer than necessary.” She could feel his presence at her back, though he wasn’t even close enough to cast a shadow in the porch light as she pushed the front door open and welcomed Emma with a pat on the head.

  Lauren smiled, as she always did when entering and seeing the view of the glass doors leading out the back of the house. They could see the bright blue waters still lapping at the shore under the moonlight. There were so many stars here that she often found herself staring out at the sea later at night, when she should have been sleeping. There were barely any stars in New York City, what with all the light pollution.

  “Not at all like the city, huh?” Lauren asked, glancing sideways at Marc, who was suddenly silent. He shook his head. “One of the pluses of living in a small Rhode Island town.” She took a deep breath. “The washer and dryer are through that door.” She pointed to the door right off the kitchen. “You should be able to hear the buzzer when it’s done and you can use the shower in the guest bath while your clothes are washing. There should be some clean towels in the linen closet.”

  “Thank you,” Marc replied, slightly nodding his head and staggering toward the laundry room, still carrying his knee gently.

  She hadn’t felt such strong emotion around a man in years. Not like this. Not something that made her heart pound in a way that didn’t spell fear for her life. The skin on her hand, where his fingers had brushed hers, still tingled as she walked back to her deck to retrieve her papers, which still fluttered in the wind, beneath the weight of her medical journals.

  She pressed them to her chest and allowed the wind to flutter through her shoulder-length honey-blonde tresses. When she had first moved to Slightuckett, her hair had been barely past the tips of her ears. Before that, it had gone down to her lower back. She’d learned to keep it in a braid at work, the rope of her hair following her as she ran back and forth, helping patients and saving as many lives as she possibly could.

  Since The Incident, though, she’d gotten her hair cut every couple of months to keep it from getting too long. Now, it was just long enough to put up in a ponytail for long days at work. She’d be due for a haircut in a couple of weeks.

  Lauren set the files down on her kitchen counter and tangled her fingers in the blonde locks, taking a deep breath as she fought off the flashes of memory behind her eyes. Of darkness and a knife running across her belly and thighs, going just deep enough to scar, but not enough to make her bleed out. The memory of rope burns on her wrists and ankles and neck, keeping her body tied down. The memory of a loud buzzing in her ears that had driven her almost to insanity.

  “Hey!”

  Lauren jumped, spinning around and pulling the pepper spray from her pocket, aiming it at the intruder behind her. The shirtless man let out a curse as he jumped back, holding his hands up in surrender.

  “Whoa,” Marc said. “Hold on there. Just wanted to know if you’ve got an extra toothbrush laying around.” He licked his teeth and winced. She continued to hold up the mace, still breathing heavily. “Or,” Marc continued, “I could use my finger.” He furrowed his brow, as if recognizing the pictures flashing behind her eyes. “Doc?” he asked. “Are you okay?” He didn’t dare move toward her, though; not with the threat of her pepper spray literally in his face. “Doc?” He cleared his throat. “Lauren?”

  Hearing her name seemed to snap her out of it and the pepper spray dropped from Lauren’s hand, clattering to the floor as she suddenly remembered where she was. Marc Kelly came into focus and she remembered that he was here as her guest. That she was probably safe with him. That he was…shirtless.

  Her entire body burst into flame at the realization and she cleared her throat, shaking her head. “Sorry,” she said, leaning down to pick up the metal canister and slipping it back into her pocket. “Sorry. I just…sorry.”

  Marc let his hands relax by his side and shrugged his shoulders. “It happens to the best of us. You ok?”

  Lauren nodded her head, embarrassed about her overreaction. “Yeah, I’m fine. What was it you wanted?”

  Lauren noticed his gaze drifting down her body. His voice got lower as he took a few steps closer to her, his eyes darkening to an almost stormy blue. “I just wanted to know if you had an extra toothbrush that I could use.”

  Lauren cleared her throat and pointed towards the bathroom. “Um, yeah. In the cabinet under the sink.” Lauren was rooted to the spot, her face pink and her heart pounding against her ribcage as she realized that he had taken another step closer. No man had been this close to her since…

  At the brush of his hand against her hip, all thoughts of him left her mind and her attention—as well as every nerve-ending in her body—focused solely on the man before her, with the rugged jaw and the impossibly blue eyes, and the perfectly kissable lips.

  Lauren placed her hand on his chest, not pushing away, but also not letting him come any closer. Marc blinked down at her, then at her hand.

  Lauren barely breathed as she watched him back up, until he turned and made his way into the bathroom, washing his hands in the sink — but not before Lauren had the chance to admire the tattoos on his back and shoulders, the line of his ass, and the wild brush of his hair. She wasn’t sure that this man was even human. How could any mortal man look as good as this? Be as strong and muscular as he was? Invoke this kind of feeling in her?

  As Marc opened the bathroom cabinet to search for a toothbrush, Lauren felt butterflies fluttering from her stomach to her chest. She placed her hand on her abdomen in an attempt to still them, only to realize that the former was really hunger that resulted from skipping dinner.

  Checking her phone, she saw that it was nearly eight in the evening. She had to wake up at 6 AM for another morning shift and if she didn’t eat now, she wouldn’t have nearly enough energy to…well…

  She glanced back at the rugged man standing in her bathroom, brushing his teeth, and bit her lip as she pushed away from the counter and walked around to her fridge, pulling out some leftover pasta from the night before. There was enough for two. She’d been planning to save the second helping for lunch, but so long as she had a guest—an injured one at that—Lauren supposed that the least she could do was share.

  She doled out the meal onto two dishes and placed one in the microwave, turning around just as Marc stepped out of the bathroom, his shirt still missing and his jeans slung low on his hips. Lauren forced herself to ignore the trail of hair that led straight to the area between his legs as she cleared her throat and busied herself taking out a couple of forks and knives.

  “I hope you’re hungry,” she said. “I’m just heating some left—”

  Before she could finish her thought, Marc Kelly was upon her, his hands turning her around clutching at the back of her heart-dotted scrub top, his mouth descending on hers with a fiery passion that sent Lauren’s entire being into a frenzy. Her heart felt as if it would pound out of her chest, her blood boiled with arousal and acute awareness as his hands burned trails all over her body. For a few fleeting seconds, her hands flailed at her sides, before they landed on his bare chest and a moan was ripped from Lauren’s throat, her body sinking against his.

  Marc’s hands raised to cup her shoulders, pulling her as close as their bodies could be as he deepened the kiss, growling and nipping at her lips. Instinctively, Lauren’s nails dug into the bare skin at his shoulders and she delighted at the hiss he released into the cavern of her mouth.

  She ripped away from him at the sound of a loud beep, her back bumping against the door of the microwave and her fingers brushing the skin of her swollen bottom lip, where she could feel the indents of his teeth where he’d bitten her. Lauren’s chest moved up and down, raggedly.

  “I�
��um…no,” she said. Marc’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion and she shook her head, unsure what she was trying to say, herself. “Dinner,” she said, pointing her thumb back at the microwave behind her. “Dinner first. Then…talk?”

  Marc nodded. He had turned her into a stuttering mess of a woman and he didn’t seem to be as affected. “Dinner first,” he echoed. “Then talk.” He bit his lip and backed up toward the table, where he pulled out a chair and sat down. Lauren took the first plate out of the microwave and placed it on the counter to cool as she replaced it with the second. Emma sniffed around the air and let out a soft bark, her tail wagging hopefully.

  Lauren smiled down at her and reached into a nearby drawer. She pulled out a chair and held out her hand in the sign for ‘sit’. Emma sat, her front paws dancing on the tile; click, click, click! Lauren spun her finger and Emma twirled around. Lauren flattened her hand and lowered it and Emma laid down, still giving her big brown, hopeful eyes.

  “Good girl,” Lauren said, tossing the treat at the dog. Emma caught it easily, without moving from her spot. Her tail thumped against the ground as she enjoyed her snack.

  Lauren turned to find Marc looking at her, with an even gaze. “Is it our turn to eat now?”

  “Sure,” she retorted, trying to act casual and ignore the sudden flash of heat she saw in his eyes. Thoughts of sex and food warred in her mind and, sadly, the growl of her stomach indicated that food was currently winning, no matter how much her thighs quivered and her knees shook. She grabbed the second plate from the microwave, bringing both dishes to the table. “Would you like something to drink?”

  “You got beer?”

  “No.”

  “Wine?”

  “I don’t drink.” She didn’t explain further, but there must have been something in her eyes when she said it, because Marc’s flashed in response. He said no more on the subject of alcohol.

  “Water?” he asked. Lauren nodded and returned to the fridge, pulling out a couple of water bottles. She picked up the utensils she’d dropped and tossed them in the sink, before reaching into her silverware drawer for clean ones.