by Celia Crown
He, like the sadist he is, said no.
Honey digs around his drawer for her underwear and bra. It stands out in the space full of dark briefs because nude being the color of contrast.
She throws the towel on the bed where it lays hazardously, she eyes it with suspicion when it looks like it could fall, but it’s not giving her the typical slow sliding act down the bed.
When she deems it staying, she slips on her panties and pulls the waistband to snap it back to her hips. Though, the bra is seemingly uncooperative at the moment. Her straps are over her shoulders and falling by the second when she can’t hook the clasps correctly.
The first try has her missing the hook completely.
The second attempt mistakenly hooks on two different spots with it crushing her ribs while the top flops loosely.
Third time's the charm.
Hilarious, she’s not that lucky.
Honey drops her arms and huffs the piece of hair out of her face. She looks like a fool; hanging bra straps and crooked bra suffocating her tits.
When all else fails, go with the teenager method.
She takes her arms out of the straps and turns the clasps to the front of her ribs. Blue eyes staring down at the love bite above her heart, a smile spread on her lips.
Fingers working open the chaotic hooks and clip them on correctly before moving the cups back to the front, she sets her arms back inside the straps with ease and adjusts the position of her breasts.
Her only pair of clothes is her vampire Halloween costume that she wore to this town.
Impulsivity comes with stupidity.
Why did she think mom would have clothes for her?
Speaking of mom, she’s acting weird.
Evasively vague about her house and her time spent in Nevada. Honey tried to ask after her first night at Kane’s house when he drops her off at the bar.
Through the power of observation from their bikes and clothes, the men in the bar are outlaws. Meaning Kane is a member too. He told her himself, and she doesn’t feel any differently for him.
Going by the motorcycle gang called Noir, a French word for black.
Fitting with the dark themes of the gang, she gets the feeling that they probably don’t have a speck of color in their closet.
She thought mom was uncertain with Honey being around outlaws, but Brenda assures her that even if the men in the group are, by definition, criminals, they are the nicest people she’s met.
Was it because she likes Kane?
Mom promises that Kane is good for her, and she thinks her baby will be well cared for.
Honey doesn’t know what could be so serious that mom can’t talk to her about it.
Problems with the bar not having enough money, criminal activities conducted by the gang, or someone harassing her can be solved.
She knows mom prides herself on doing things on her own, she doesn’t need a man to support her when she single-handedly raised three difficult children.
With three genius children protecting her in their own ways can have major benefits.
Honey can perform surgery under extreme pressure if circumstances demand it, Mavis takes pleasure in making biohazard weapons, and Laura will make sure to win any cases that concern her family.
Mom knows that her daughters have the money and influences to move many politicians, so why is she being secretive over something that could be potentially solved quicker if she were to just tell Honey.
Soon.
That’s what mom said when Honey pushed.
Honey assumes that whenever she’s ready, mom would tell, but now, she’s better off waiting.
“Eh,” she shrugs, pulling on a black cotton shirt from another drawer. “Whatever.”
Honey has to roll up the legs of his sweatpants, so she doesn’t accidentally clean the floor with it.
With a little body wiggle, she’s satisfied with the comfort it provides before the shrilling default ringtone cuts the silence in the house.
It takes her a second to remember that it’s hers and she should probably answer but avoid it if it’s ancient hospital chairman.
She skits out the door, running into the opposite wall in the process, and flies down the stairs with hasty stomps. The phone lights up at the kitchen counter with Mavis’ face on the screen, a smile blooms on her lips as she answers.
Clicking the speaker option on the screen allows her to wander to the cabinet to search for a cup.
“Why’s your house on fire?”
Honey rolls her blue eyes at the accusing tone.
“Hello, Honey. How’s your day? Oh, it’s going great.”
She doesn’t find a mug anywhere and opts to pick a bottle from the stack of water bottles on the floor.
“You didn’t answer my question.”
“How are you finding that out now?”
“Do you know how many fires happen in Miami every day?” Honey hears a sigh over the phone.
“No—”
“Too many. So, spill. What happened? Are you hurt? Where are you now? Why didn’t you call me or Laura? Does mom know?”
She cracks open the cap and takes a big gulp of fresh water down her throat, “I can only answer one question at a time!”
“Answer the main one.”
“You asked six.”
The blonde-haired woman could hear people speaking in the background, but they are too far away to pick up any detectable words.
“Why’s your house on fire?”
“Isn’t the most important one, am I hurt?”
“Are you?”
“No.” Honey closes the water with its cap and held it in her hand as she picks up the phone.
“Then, answer the question.”
She laughs, thinking back how the process of getting all the pasta ingredients was relaxing.
“You should’ve seen how professional I was, diligent and quick. It was going to be the most organic and delicious pasta mom has ever eaten.”
“I can physically feel the stupidity already.”
“Shush, Mav.” she plops her butt down on the couch and leans forward to the coffee table to set the water down.
“I was putting the wine in and the pan exploded. Don’t know what happened.”
“Your idiocy doesn’t end there,” Mavis quips over the speaker.
Honey admits plainly, “I put wine in the fire.”
A long and awkward silence comes from the phone, a shuffling of groans and undiscernible noises replies.
“What?”
A yowl comes with screeching noises, “How are you still alive!”
“Rising from the ashes!” Honey snickers.
“I hope Poseidon sweeps your fiery feathers away.”
A dense vibration shows up on her screen with another call coming in. It’s a number she doesn’t recognize, but she’s already more than positive of what the phone call can be about.
Sometimes other medical specialists call personal numbers when the doctor they need isn’t on call, or their pager isn’t answered within a certain amount of time.
“Call you back later, seems like work is here to take me back.”
“Wait,” Mavis shouts, “Where are you right now?”
“Uh,” she stutters, “Kane’s.”
“What the—” his sister chokes on her own saliva, “Who’s Kane?!”
She hangs up.
Honey mentally scolds herself, she needs to learn to tighten her brain to mouth filter.
She answers the next call with a voice she had much time practicing.
“This is Doctor Lewis.”
Chapter Eleven
Kane
Sickening cracks of shattering bones echoes after a painful scream.
Kane’s hand curls into a fist and swings it violently against this fucking bastard’s jaw and fragmenting his bones. White hot anger seethes his massive body as he throws a punch that cracks another area on the man’s body.
That lowlife signed his death warran
t when he insinuated Honey was a common whore he found on the streets and had the audacity to ask for a share.
By the jacket’s insignia, it’s the rival gang’s imbecile.
Hell’s Angel.
He’ll show this fool what true hell is.
He didn’t want to be here, dealing with stupid asses wrecking property and forcing themselves on women.
Kane woke up groggy by the sound of his phone, Honey was still sleeping without a care to the world, and he almost ignored the annoying vibration. It stopped and started up again, and he glared at the wall.
He answered one of his brother’s call and got a woman’s voice in return. It was Bone’s call, but his woman picked up, so it was safe to guess that Bone was in the middle of breaking bones like twigs.
The woman was calm when she explained the situation to him. A couple of Hell’s Angel’s minions were giving unwanted attention to some of the girls that frequent Brenda’s bar, which was known to be Noir’s hangout.
They must be new recruits because that gang was always looking for fresh meat to make them more powerful and stronger, so they can take over the town.
He didn’t think it would take a long time, and Honey wouldn’t know he was gone because he would be in bed with her again before she woke up.
Kane got to the destination with three bloodied and smirking idiots, Bone’s unsatisfied frown blatantly obvious showing his discontent on the experience.
He knew Bone well enough to understand that it wouldn’t be the best gratification unless they were crying, and crying was what they would do once the man finished rolling his shoulders dramatically.
Bone was one of the newer members that joined last year, and he already picked up on bloodlust from one of their most notorious members.
The three dumbasses on the floor heard his engine before they saw him stepping away from the motorcycle. He told Bone to make this quick, he had better things to do than take out the garbage.
Then, one of the morons made an insult to Honey.
Words traveled fast around town about a newcomer and an affiliation connected to Noir through Brenda and Kane.
Beautiful girl from the big city is bound to raise attention from all directions. Police are no doubt searching for any information they can find on her, just in case any future incidents set the Miami police force on a small town.
Hell’s Angel is known to be a rowdy crowd that doesn’t take no for an answer, and often time, women are put in tough spots with no way out.
His brothers all have a chivalrous bone, and they will not stand in the sideline and watch women be harmed by hooligans.
That’s where Kane comes in.
Noir is similarly an unruly crowd, but it’s a group made of strong men that don’t hurt women. They use their monstrous strength to knock out rude idiots.
When his brothers cleanse the streets with their enemies’ bloodied bodies, Kane takes on the role of shadowed fixer and cleaner to make sure they get in the least possible amount of trouble as possible.
He’s not wasting money on bail for trivial fights.
However, he will be a driving force when Honey is involved.
“I heard you fuckers like second-hand whores.”
Kane kicked the man’s gut and he choked up his food. Then he stomped on his throat, cutting air supplies to his brain.
One was for Brenda, and the other was for his Honey.
Now, he is here throwing fast and hard blows to some fucker’s face whose name he still doesn’t know even when he hears the other two yelling his name.
Bone takes on the other two with manic glee in his eyes, and the craziness seeps in his hits across ribcages.
Kane knows when to stop in fights, but he’s having a tough time giving mercy to a disrespectful boy.
His desire to go back to Honey is stronger than his anger, so he puts a lot more power in the last punch than necessary and unhinges the man’s jaw.
The man propels backward on the dirt ground, eyes rolling behind his eyelids as they close shut in pain. Unmoving on the ground, the other two limping men drag the unconscious man with whatever limbs that aren’t broken.
They run off with tails tucking between their legs like cowards.
A thundering growl vibrates in his chest as he turns to his brother and nods his goodbye. Maybe it’s the first time Bone sees the underlying monster sleeping in the stoic man, it’s exciting and frightening at the same time.
He kick-starts the bike with a purr and speeds off without a backward glance.
Kane doesn’t enjoy the blur of deserted environments, he speeds down the road to his house where his Honey waits for him in his bed.
He gets to his house in the shortest amount of time as a nagging feeling hits him. Queasiness fills his gut as his instincts whispers in his ears, he surveils his property for danger.
Noticing that nothing was out of place, he steadily walks up to his door and slides the key in the deadbolt lock.
It’s already unlocked.
He locked it when he left in the morning, his hazel eyes drop solemnly cold. With a silent twist of the other lock and a slow turn of the doorknob, he pushes the door open.
A quick glance over at the living room, he runs up the bedroom and slams the door open. His heart drops when there’s a dried towel thrown on the edge of the bed, crumpled sheets, and the note he left on the nightstand.
There’s new handwriting on them.
Under his own words, he reads the message left by Honey.
Need to go.
The post-it crushes in his palm as his eyes bleed red.
She promised him she wouldn’t leave him.
Should he have known she’d leave when he’s not there, then he would’ve never left the bed, unless she was waiting for him to leave.
She wouldn’t.
Honey isn’t like that.
She’s different; naïve and kind. Hurting people isn’t in her character, she’s a doctor for fuck’s sake. She saves people, and somewhere along the way, she saved him from his own loneliness.
His heart shutters calmly beneath his ribs, he needs to speak to Brenda.
When he finds her, she will understand how much control he has when he wants it to be steel.
For now, he settles on getting to the bar.
He doesn’t have a line of communication with Honey, he never needed to call her during the days she lived with him.
Looking back, he should have because spontaneous Honey happens to forget many things. Clothes, essentials, and her phone that’s on the couch with a half-full water bottle.
He pockets the phone and is out the door in seconds.
Taking the shortest route and running over every speed limit, he finds the bar lined with motorcycles. Brenda is outside wiping the windows with a washcloth to move the dusty layers.
She sees his reflection in the window and turns to give him a questioning glance, wet cloth dangling in her hand as she walks up to him.
“Where’s Honey?”
He answers, “Gone.”
“Gone?” an exacerbated sigh comes out of her painted lips, “That girl, I swear to god.”
Her dark eyes widen and press a hand to her forehead, “Let me call her.”
“I have her phone.” he fishes out the device from his pocket.
“Okay,” she clears her throat, dropping the dirty fabric on her elbow and fumbles with her own phone to dial a familiar number that she’s memorized since long ago.
“Mavis.” her motherly tone comes out, “Where’s your sister?”
Brenda stammers and huffs, “Yes, I know where Laura is. I’m talking about your other half, the ‘partner in crime’ sister.”
Statics came from the other line and Kane can’t hear what she’s saying before Brenda is changing expressions.
“Oh, work.” she nods understandingly, “Thanks, baby.”
She closes the line and smiles fondly down at the phone, “Honey got called in for work. Don’t worry about he
r, she’ll come back.”
He puts Honey’s phone in his pocket as she looks at her for clarification.
“Trust me, I know my daughter.” she laughs, joy reflecting in her eyes, “Mother’s intuition.”
Kane wants to believe her, and some part does, but he wants to hear Honey say it. Say that she’ll return to him.
He refrains from asking which hospital. He wants Honey to come back to him on her own, he wants her to choose him.
He’s a little obsessed; the need to cut down every escape she has from leaving him, even for just a little.
He’s willing to give her twenty-four hours.
Chapter Twelve
Kane
Twenty-two hours.
That’s how long it took the hospital to call. They had called the girl from earlier, Mavis, he recalls her name. The girl called Brenda, which she relayed the message to him.
Honey specifically asks for Kane to get her.
He was out the bar before Brenda could get any word out.
He got to the hospital just outside of Nevada; busy doctors and nurses bustling next to him when he got to the emergency room. The smell of bacterial disinfectants and copper makes him nauseated, it’s too strong along with the beeping machines.
A nurse comes up to him, scanning him for any external injuries.
“Are you hurt, sir?”
Kane looks at the man in blue scrubs, “No. I’m looking for a Doctor Honey Lewis.”
“Oh, she’s on the third floor.” he points at the set of stairs behind him with an elevator next to it.
Kane brushes pass him and ignores the moan of painful cries around him as he takes double steps up the stairs.
The white walls were bland, nothing stands out, yet everything stands out so much it mingles together. Nurses helping patients walk with IV bags hanging on hooks, family members slipping in and out of rooms, and the occasional doctors talking to nurses.
His black clothes are a special spectacle for the people around him. A grim reaper in a form of a man.
He asks the head nurse at the reception area for Honey, she points down the hall with a room number for the employee breakroom. He moves to the wall when a team of nurses reeling in a patient in a gurney while shouting medical terms sprints passes him with a breeze.
