BLOOD: An Evil Dead MC Story (The Evil Dead MC Series Book 7)

by Nicole James

  “You? How can you save her? You’re cuffed to the stupid bed.” She sniffled.

  “You get that call out to my club, they’ll come busting in here and get us out. Then we’ll get your sister. Do you know where they’re keeping her?”

  She wiped the wetness off her cheek. “Dax has her at my apartment.”

  “Dax? Who the fuck is Dax?”

  At his harsh words, she looked toward the hallway and then to him. “Shh… they’ll hear you.”

  “Tell me,” he demanded in a softly spoken order.

  “He used to be my brother-in-law.”

  “Used to be?”

  “My older sister was married to him.”

  “They split up?”

  “She was killed.”

  Blood clenched his jaw, hating to see the pain on her face. “I’m sorry.”

  She brushed it aside with a wave of her hand, like his apology was meaningless. And perhaps to her it was, but he’d meant it. This girl didn’t deserve to have such pain in her life. She didn’t deserve any of this shit. He’d only known her a day, but already he could decipher that much. “So, your brother-in-law is a Death Head, then?”

  She shook her head. “No, but I think he wants to be. At least he wants to be on their good side. You see, Dax is a drug dealer. And when he gets on the wrong side of people like them, innocent people end up dead.”

  “Your sister?” Blood frowned, linking the parts of this story together.

  She nodded. “My sister.”

  “What happened to her?” He was almost afraid to hear the answer.

  She met his eyes with her clear blue ones. “Car bomb.”

  Blood’s chin lifted, the pieces falling into place. “Meant for Dax.”

  “And my sister paid the price.”

  “But now he’s back in good with them?”

  “Apparently. Or trying to be. I don’t know.”

  “And he was good with putting both you and your sister in danger like this?”

  She nodded. “Dax is only concerned with himself.”

  “Dax is a dick.”

  She grinned at that. “I couldn’t agree more.”

  “When we get out of here, I’m gonna kill him for you.”

  She looked at him with wide eyes. Obviously, no one had ever offered to solve the Dax problem for her before. He meant it. Every word, and he could see she saw that fact written on his face.

  “I didn’t ask for your help.”

  “No, cupcake. But you got it, just the same.”

  She lifted her chin, considering. “You’re just saying that to get me to help you.”

  “First of all, I shouldn’t have to talk you into helping me. I thought that’s what nurses do—help people. Second, no, I’m not just saying that. I don’t just say shit. Ever.”

  He could see she hadn’t a clue how to take him. That was okay; she’d learn. He’d make sure she did—in more ways than one. In any other situation, Blood would already be all over her, would have backed her against the wall and shown her. He was the kind of man who took what he wanted where women were concerned. He didn’t chitchat with them—never had to. Dealing with women in this way was new for him. Cuffed to the bed, he was in a situation where he actually had to talk to her, get to know her, seduce her verbally into doing what he wanted. This was all new territory for him.

  “You find me hard to handle, don’t you, babe?”

  She scoffed and looked away. “I have no desire to ‘handle’ you at all, Blood.”

  “Bet I could prove you wrong.”

  “Right.”

  “C’mere.”

  She looked back at him.

  He reached out, fisted his hand in the hem of her scrubs shirt, and pulled her down onto the edge of the bed. Then, quick as lightning, he hooked that hand around the back of her neck and pulled her down, capturing her mouth with his. Those lips of hers were just as soft and kissable as he imagined they’d be. They parted with her surprise, and he took full advantage, his tongue sweeping inside for a taste. It only lasted a second, before she was pushing off him and out of his reach. But that second told him all he needed to know—there was fire there, for both of them.

  “You’ve got some crazy ideas if you think I’m interested in the likes of you. I’m no scared little virgin who’s going to go along with whatever you want.”

  “You’re a real wildcat, you are.”

  “You’ve misjudged me badly. I will never want a biker like you.”

  “Never say never, angel.”

  “You’re too much like my brother-in-law and this bunch to suit me, and I’m an expert on him.”

  “Can’t blame a man for trying, sweetheart.”

  “Don’t do that again.”

  “Now that’s a promise I won’t be making.”

  She folded her arms and sat in the chair, glaring at the wall.

  “What do you do at the hospital?”

  “I’m a nurse,” she replied, like he was a moron.

  “I know you’re a nurse. What department? What’s your specialty?”

  “I work in the departure lounge.”

  His brows shot up. “The what?”

  “It’s what we call the geriatric floor.”

  His mouth pulled up. “Cute.”

  “Want to know what we call motorcycles?”

  “What?” He could hardly wait to hear this one.

  “Donorcycles. It’s where we get most organ donations. Motorcycle fatalities.”

  “Well, that’s morbid.”

  She looked up at his IV bag. “You need another one.”

  He watched as she got up and switched it out. He reached for a bottle of water and chugged it down while she worked. With her arms over his head, he had a perfect view of her chest. Naturally, she caught where his eyes were when she pulled back. In any other circumstance, he’d have wrapped one strong arm around her waist and lifted that top, helping himself to her breasts with his mouth. It was damned strange being in a fucking situation where the woman had the upper hand.

  She stepped back and took the empty bottle from him. “After this bag, I can probably switch you over to oral antibiotics.”

  “You got any of those?”

  “Actually, no.”

  “Hmm. Sounds like someone might have to make a run to the hospital.”

  She blew out an exasperated breath. “Are you hungry?”

  He shook his head. “But I bet you are. Ask them for some food. If you don’t, I guarantee they aren’t going to think about it.”

  “Maybe I don’t want to remind them I’m up here.”

  He nodded, taking her meaning, and looked toward the hall. It was a wonder they hadn’t come up for her yet, but that wouldn’t last for long. He needed to get her out of here. “They’ll be rousing in a couple hours. When they do, tell them you need more supplies.”

  She looked toward the hall, but made no promises. She got up and stretched, then moved to the window again, peering out. The sun was up now, and the temperature was rising quickly. “What I really could use is some Vitamin X.”

  Blood frowned, studying her. “That’s a new one.”

  She looked over absently at him. “Sorry. Xanax.”

  “More hospital humor. Cute.”

  Their eyes met, and a small smile formed on her face. He answered it with one of his own.

  ***

  Hours passed and the temperature in the room climbed. Blood continued to try to draw Cat in with conversation.

  “You’re accent. It sounds more like Texas than New Orleans.”

  She looked over at him. “That’s because I’m from Beaumont.”

  “Beaumont, huh? How’d you end up here?”

  “My dad died when I was seven. That’s when everything went to hell. We lost our house and ended up living in a rundown trailer in a crappy trailer park. My mom hooked up with one loser after another. Last one took an interest in Holly. That’s when I decided to get her out of there.”

  “How
’d you end up a nurse?”

  “When I was in high school, I got a job at a small diner. The owners took me under their wing, telling me I could be anything I wanted. That I could rise above my upbringing and the bad start I had in life.

  “With their help, I worked my way through a nursing program at the community college. I knew I wanted to get away from Beaumont. As far away as I could get.”

  She moved around the bed and leaned over to check his wounds as she talked.

  “Stacey never had that kind of help. She took off at sixteen and hooked up with that low-life loser, Dax. They got married. He started dealing drugs.”

  She prodded at the wound after taking off the bandage. He groaned as the pain flashed through him.

  “I need to change out the packing. I can give you something for the pain, inject it into the IV,” she offered.

  He shook his head. “I’ve got to keep a clear head right now. I can’t be foggy from pain meds.”

  She looked toward the closed door.

  Blood followed her eyes. The men had started to rouse about an hour ago and the man in the hall had locked them in again.

  “All right, then. I’ll get started.” She moved to set up her supplies, laying out a sterile pad, donning gloves and a mask, and ripping open new gauze.

  Blood watched her, noticing—like he hadn’t when he was feverish—just how competent she was at what she did.

  She moved toward him with a pair of tweezers. “I’ve got to pull the packing out. You may want to turn your head for this.”

  He gave her a flat look. Did she think the sight of a little blood and gore would have him heaving over the side of the bed?

  She shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

  He watched as she dug out the wad of gauze bandaging she’d packed in his wound. It pulled on the healing, clotted tissue. He sucked in a breath as she pulled it free, and he hissed, “Jesus Christ! It didn’t hurt that bad getting shot.”

  “Sorry. I’m trying to be gentle.”

  He caught her look as she attempted to fight a grin. Gentle, my ass. Maybe it was a test to see just how much of a badass he was. He clenched his jaw as she prepared to repack the wound with gauze squares she’d dipped in saline.

  He gritted out, “Finish your story. Take my mind off the torture you’re inflicting on me, Nurse Hotty.”

  She grinned, but complied. “Dax got hooked up with the local biker club—our friends downstairs—the Death Heads.”

  “They ain’t my friends.”

  “Stacey died because of them. An accounting issue, they’d said. I can’t prove it, but I know that’s what happened. She called me the night before, begging me to help them. I pleaded with her to leave him, to come home. She wouldn’t. She died the next morning.”

  “Sorry,” he whispered.

  Her pretty blue eyes looked up from what she was doing and met his. “Are you?”

  Then her eyes returned to what she was doing, and he hissed in another breath at the jolt of pain.

  “Sorry,” she whispered.

  “Are you?” He gave her words back to her and watched the corner of her mouth pull up. There was the slightest little dimple there.

  She finished by placing a new square of gauze over his wound and taping it in place.

  “Thank God, you’re finished.”

  Apparently, she didn’t like where she’d applied the tape, because she pulled it off and reset it. He sucked in at the sharp yank. “Fuck.” He glared at her. “You did that on purpose.”

  She rolled her eyes at him as she pulled off her gloves with a snap. “If we were in the hospital, I’d write BFB on your chart.”

  “What the hell is BFB?” he glared at her, still pissed about what he was sure was intentional roughness on her part. And maybe, if he were being honest, he deserved it for grabbing and kissing her earlier.

  “Big Fucking Baby.”

  “Ha ha. Very funny. You know what I’d call you?”

  “I can only imagine.”

  “Nurse Sweetcheeks.”

  She actually grinned at that—she tried to hide it from him, but he saw.

  “How ‘bout a sponge bath?” he said. “Is that in your skill set? Maybe you can redeem yourself. Show me you’ve got a gentler touch.”

  Her eyes skated down his body. “Well, you do stink.”

  His brows shot up at that. “Thanks a lot.”

  She moved to the other side of the bed and poured the last bottle of water into the empty ice bowl. Then she dipped a towel in, sat on the edge of the bed and began to wipe down his face and arms.

  He watched her as she did it. Occasionally her eyes would flick up to meet his, but mostly she was all business, focusing on what she was doing. She swiped over his neck and then down his chest, over his abs to the edge of his low-riding jeans. He watched every little emotion on her face. She swallowed, the towel slowing its stroke, and he pounced.

  “See something you like?”

  Her eyes flicked up to his, and she quickened her movements. “I’m a nurse. I’ve seen it all.”

  He grinned. He could tell his close scrutiny was making her nervous. She moved the towel over his armpit and the cuff rattled as he jerked.

  She smirked up at him then. “Ticklish?”

  “Hell no. It’s cold, is all.”

  She lifted his other arm and repeated the motion. He grit his teeth, trying to keep from jerking under her touch.

  “You are ticklish.”

  “I get these cuffs off, maybe we’ll see how ticklish you are,” he threatened as she stood to wring out the towel in the bowl.

  Her eyes connected with his, and they both knew it was a long shot that those cuffs would ever be coming off. It was also a reminder that she needed to decide if she was going to take a chance and help him.

  “You gotta trust somebody, angel,” he murmured, reading her like a book. He lifted his eyes to the IV bag that was now empty. “Now’s your shot.”

  Her eyes followed his and then moved to the door. He watched her stare off into space, considering her options.

  “I would happily keep the world on the other side of that door for you if I could,” he whispered.

  She looked at him with those big blue eyes—eyes that had seen too much in her young life, that still held a touch of vulnerability that called out to him to protect.

  “C’mere.” He beckoned her softly.

  She moved toward him as if pulled by a force she couldn’t fight, perhaps didn’t even understand.

  He reached up and grasped her fingers, tugging her down on the edge of the bed. Then his hand moved to her cheek. His thumb brushed over her cheekbone, just a soft stroke as they stared at one another. Her eyes dropped to his mouth, and that was all the invitation he needed. He slid his hand into the hair behind her ear and pulled her to him.

  He was gentle with her this time, just a brush of his lips over hers, but he came back again and again, until her mouth was opening under his, her tongue sweeping out to lightly explore. He let her take the lead. Just this once, he told himself.

  Maybe it was the fact that he didn’t push or demand, like everything inside him was screaming for him to do, or maybe it was the fact that he was chained to the bed that made her feel safe with him. He didn’t know. He didn’t care. He was just glad she did. He didn’t want that to ever change, but in the back of his mind, he knew it would. He knew if he ever got out of here, if they ever both got out of here that would change. Because he wouldn’t be able to hold back with her anymore. The kid gloves would come off.

  She angled her head, continuing the slow soft kisses that were getting him aroused, his dick pressing hard against the zipper of his jeans. It wasn’t used to being denied. Ever.

  Eventually, she pulled back, and he stared up into her wide eyes. She looked as confused as he was by all this, but he saw desire there, too. She may not like bikers very much, but she was attracted to him. That much was plain on her face. Then her eyes dropped to his crotch.

>   “I may be injured, but I ain’t dead,” he explained with a grin.

  She flushed.

  The sound of footsteps in the hall had both their heads twisting toward the door. The footsteps moved on past. He looked up at her, brushing the hair back from her face. “It’s dangerous to be doing this.”

  “I know.”

  He wrapped his hand around her ponytail and pulled her down for one more kiss, unable to resist. Then he released her, letting the silk of her hair slip through his fingers as his hand dropped to the bed.

  They heard footsteps again, and this time the doorknob rattled as it was unlocked. She jumped from the bed and pretended to fiddle with the IV bag above his head as one of the Death Heads came through the door.

  Blood feigned sleep.

  “How is he?” the man bit out.

  Chapter Six

  Cat glanced down at her patient, only to see his eyes closed. “He needs more antibiotics. I need another IV bag. This one’s empty.”

  “So give him one.”

  “I’m out. I only grabbed two. I need to go back to the hospital to get more supplies.”

  “Are you fucking serious?”

  She whirled then, her hand on her hip. “Look, I didn’t know what I was walking into here. I had no idea he was this bad off. You want my help or not? If he doesn’t get a full cycle of antibiotics, he won’t make it. The infection will just flare back up worse than before, and he’ll go into a coma.” She didn’t know if he’d buy the story, but she gave it her best shot. “Now who’s taking me? You?”

  “Goddamn it. Let me go see.” He slammed the door and marched down the stairs.

  Blood cracked an eye open at her. “Damn, girl. You can be a real hard-ass when you put your mind to it.”

  “You think they’ll take me?”

  They heard arguing coming from the first floor and then boots pounding up the stairs. “We’re about to find out. Remember… make that phone call and then you don’t come back, understand?”

  She turned toward the door, but felt a tug on the leg of her scrubs.

  “Hey?”

  She looked back at him.

  “Understand?”

  She nodded. “Wait. The number?”