by Jessica Ames
“You’re a little high up the food chain for road traffic accidents, aren’t you?” I say it with a smile.
He snorts. “I’m stuck in the traffic jam building behind this mess. You’re hurt.” He juts his chin in the direction of my head.
“I’m more worried about this guy. He’s got a potentially fractured wrist, and considering how hard he hit the ground, I want to make sure he doesn’t have any internal damage.”
Cobi glances around me and takes in Shane sitting on the ground, his hand pulled against his chest. Shane’s eyes are hard as agate as his gaze slides toward the badge before settling his attention on Cobi’s face.
No love lost there.
Cobi signals for me to come to him, so I push up from the ground where I’m sitting next to Shane and join him a little distance from the biker.
“Be careful with him?”
I frown. “Why?”
Cobi’s teeth grit. “He’s a Sons. They’re bad news. I mean the worst of the worst. They’re not like Wes’s club. They’re outlaws, all of them. Rotten to the core.”
I peer over my shoulder at the biker sitting on the ground, cradling his arm to his chest. He doesn’t seem like the picture Cobi’s painting, but who am I to argue? Cobi’s a police officer. I’m sure he knows about this stuff.
A shiver works through my spine. Is Shane that bad? “Rotten or not, I still have to treat him.”
“Just be careful.”
“I will,” I promise.
“I’ll start coordinating the scene, see if we can get some of the wreckage cleaned up.”
I have no idea if my car is still roadworthy, but I leave Cobi to worry about it while I head back over to Shane.
“How are you doing?”
“What did that fucker want?” His eyes are still blazing in the direction of Cobi.
I roll my eyes. “He’s just doing his job.”
Shane snorts. “That’s what the plod always says.”
“Plod?”
“Police. Pigs. Plod.”
His tone pisses me off. “Cobi’s not the enemy.”
“Police are always the enemy.”
The EMTs head toward us and I step back, giving them room to work. Shane’s eyes meet mine and the connection sizzles between us once more. I shouldn’t feel anything for a man this dangerous, but my thudding heart isn’t slowing down.
2
Whizz
The ER is busy. Doctors and nurses bustle past the cubicle I’ve been shoved in, but no one shows any sign of coming to me. I was given a couple of painkillers for my wrist and left to it. The annoying thing is I can probably treat my fucking self, but when I called Omen to tell him what happened, he ordered me to get treated, so my arse is staying put. Part of me is also hoping I run into Amy again. I’d noticed the pretty little nurse. I would have to be blind not to. Even in pain she piqued my interest.
I glance up and see two of the Tennessee chapter at the nurses’ station. The petite woman talking to them seems a little anxious at having the two men in her space. I don’t blame her; the two men suck the air out of any room they step into.
Havoc, Tennessee’s vice president, is huge with dark hair and a thick beard that makes him look like a fucking bear. Crank is no smaller and has a shaved head that makes him look savage, but the brother is a fucking joker. In the two weeks I’ve been in Tennessee, I’ve learned there’s not much he can’t joke about.
Crank notices me first and wanders over, Havoc on his heels.
“If you didn’t like your room, all you had to do was say,” Crank grins. “Didn’t have to get yourself banged up to get new digs.”
I snort. The room I was given at the clubhouse is basic, but it has a bed and a shower, which is all I need. My days in the British Army taught me to travel light and sleep anywhere. They taught me a lot more shit that I’ve used in my time with the Sons too.
“I just got tired of seeing your ugly mug,” I fire back, a grin of my own playing over my lips.
I’ve only been in town a few weeks, but already these men feel like family. That’s what the club is—family. Doesn’t matter which chapter I visit, we’re a brotherhood, joined by the name on our backs. The Sons will always be home, no matter which chapter I’m with, but despite that, I do miss my brothers back in London. I know they’re only on the other end of a phone, but it’s not the same.
Havoc isn’t interested in bantering. His eyes scan over my strapped-up arm, done by the paramedics, and the gauze holding my cheek together and his mouth pulls into a tight line.
“How are you doing, brother?”
“Better than Betty. The bike’s fucked. Sorry.”
Havoc shrugs. “Rather the bike than burying a brother.”
“Ravage would fucking kill us if we sent you back in a body bag,” Crank adds, folding his arms over his broad chest, the leather of his kutte crinkling.
I snort. He would, especially considering the reason I’m here, a reason only Havoc and his president, Omen, know about.
The Tennessee chapter runs guns for us and the rest of our UK chapters, but the last few runs they’ve done have been intercepted by rivals of the club. Omen’s worried they have a fox in the hen house, and Rav was worried enough to send me over to work out what’s going on. We can’t afford to lose our gun links. We can trade with our Irish brothers, but our American friends can get us military grade equipment easily, which is what we really want.
“We’ll arrange getting the bike back to the clubhouse. Chains can repair it,” Havoc says.
“It’s pretty fucked up. Not sure he’ll be able to.”
I sink back against the pillows. My head is fucking throbbing, my cheek too. As my eyes scan across the ER’s main floor, that’s when I see her—my nurse.
Amy is standing at the nurses’ station, talking with the small woman Havoc and Chains scared. She has a plaster covering her forehead and she’s wearing a pair of scrubs that hug her body in a way that should be illegal.
I’m not sure what to make of her. She didn’t take my shit earlier, calling me out for it, and I kind of liked that. Most women see the patch and are either terrified of what we are or enthralled. She was neither and that fucking intrigues me.
She meets my eyes and I see her face soften as she puts down the chart she’s holding, making her way over to me.
I expect Amy to be wary of the two brothers guarding me like hounds straight from the pits of hell, but she just gives them a cursory glance before her big eyes focus on me.
God, I thought she was fucking beautiful this morning, now I’m convinced she’s the most breathtaking woman I’ve ever seen. Her dark hair is pulled into a bun at the nape of her neck, a few stray pieces framing her face. Her features are soft, her eyes a shade of blue I’ve never seen before and her mouth forms a perfect Cupid’s bow that my gaze is instantly drawn to. I want to devour her whole, I want to nip at her mouth and claim her, but she’s not mine and I have no right.
“How are you feeling?” she asks, snagging the chart from the holder at the end of the bed and skimming through my notes.
“I’d feel a fuck ton better if someone would see to me. Been sitting here for two hours already.”
Her mouth pulls into a line at my tone and I can tell she’s about to sass me back. The anticipation has my mouth wanting to pull into a smirk.
“They’re doing their best. They had nearly twenty people come into the ER from the accident.”
“I was one too. Did you forget that?”
She rolls her eyes at me and I want to take her mouth in a punishing kiss. “No one has forgotten you. Can I take a look?”
I gesture with my hand, indicating she can. Her eyes meet mine before she leans over the bed and gently starts to peel away the tape holding the gauze in place over my cheek.
It tugs and stings a little, but I don’t let a single emotion slide onto my face as her fingers brush over my cheek until she gets the gauze free. I’m used to hiding my pain, not just physi
cal but emotional. The army taught me that.
“It need stitches?” I ask her, not sure how deep the wound is. I haven’t seen any of the damage to my face yet.
She pokes around the wound, a cute as fuck little furrow appearing between her brows. “Unfortunately. It might scar.”
“Don’t ruin his pretty face.” Crank grins. “That’s how he gets the ladies.”
I glare at the brother, irritation fanning through me like fire. I don’t need his fucking help right now. “Don’t you have somewhere to be?”
“I don’t—”
Havoc snags him by the front of the kutte and shoves him toward the exit. “Time to go.” His eyes find mine. “Call a prospect to give you a ride back to the clubhouse.”
I nod and watch them leave before giving my attention back to the beautiful angel at my side.
“You know what you’re doing?”
“Didn’t we already go over this? I need to get a suture kit. Don’t move.”
“Ain’t going anywhere.”
She disappears behind the curtain, leaving me alone for a moment. My thoughts barely have time to collect before she’s back again, a kit in hand.
“This won’t take long,” she tells me, and I wish that wasn’t the case. I want to spend as much time as I can with her. I’m drawn to her in a way I can’t explain. Pretty little nurses aren’t usually on my radar. She would never be able to hack my lifestyle, could never function as an old lady in my club. Women like Amy are about protecting lives, while my sole function is to destroy the lives of people who try to come at the Sons. We don’t gel, yet I’m interested in her. More than interested, if I’m being honest.
I watch the way she tucks those stray pieces of hair behind her ears, watch the hint of uncertainty as she moves around the bed I’m lying on. I make her nervous. Amy’s right to be. I’m not a good man, never professed to be and she’s pure as the fucking driven snow.
When she opens the suture kit, she’s a little surer of herself and I see the change in her confidence. This is where she’s at home.
“You been a nurse long?”
Her eyes roll. “I’m qualified to do this.”
Fuck, of course she’d take it that way. “That wasn’t what I meant.”
Amy lets out a long sigh. “Sorry. I’m just on edge.”
“Because of me?”
Her eyes flick toward me and I see the question dancing in those beautiful irises.
“Why would I be on edge because of you?”
“Because of who I am.”
She snorts as she sets up what she needs and then tips my head back. Electric charges sizzle between us, my synapses firing on full power.
“And who’s that?”
“A member of the Sons. Know our reputation, sweetheart. Know it ain’t exactly a positive one.”
Her eyes drift toward mine and I notice the flush on her chest. Yeah, I’m affecting her. “I tend to make up my own mind on people.”
“What have you decided about me?”
She smirks. “I’m not telling you that.” She snaps on a pair of gloves and pulls out a needle to inject local anesthetic into my face. “This’ll sting a little.”
She’s not wrong. I can’t stop the hiss from sneaking out between my clenched teeth as she touches the needle to a sensitive spot.
“Sorry.”
“Don’t apologize.”
“This is the worst part.” She finishes injecting and puts the needle into a special waste bin.
“You didn’t answer my question. How long have you been doing this?”
“About eight years, but I’ve only been in trauma for the past two.”
“You like it?”
Her eyes light up and I know she’s like me. She lives for the excitement that comes with this kind of environment. I recognize the look because I felt the same when I was enlisted. That thrill turned to something else, something more sinister over time. I saw the light in my eyes fade into darkness, watched it take over as the blackness crept through me. It was impossible to do the shit I did in war and not feel it. I enlisted to save lives, not take them, but that hadn’t always been possible. Some of the wounds had been catastrophic. Some men and women I couldn’t fix, even with all my knowledge. I hated those cases. I hated failing. When I came out of the army, I was a mess, until I found the Sons. They put me back together, fixed my broken pieces, but the cracks still remain. I was only glued back together tentatively.
“Love it. I love the pace, the different patients, seeing varied cases.”
“Yeah, it’s never boring.”
“No, it’s not.”
Amy leans over me, her tits nearly touching me as she starts to insert the first stitch. I hold my fucking breath as she does, trying to keep my cock calm.
“What do you do, Shane?”
Anyone else calling me by that name would get a mouthful. I earned my road name, but her using it makes a warmth spread through my body.
Other than patching up my brothers…?
“I work for a small clinic for veterans in England. Just a few days a week, but I like giving back to soldiers.”
“You see action when you were in the army?”
I’d seen more than I wanted to. “Yeah, was in Afghanistan. Did my time, got the fuck out as soon as I could.”
“You didn’t enjoy it?”
“Ain’t much to enjoy about watching your brothers in arms getting legs blown off, arms, catastrophic injuries that can’t be fixed. Found civilian medicine a lot more to my pace.”
“I understand that.”
She works quickly, her hands moving expertly as she does.
“All done,” she says. “Let me see about hurrying up the X-ray for your wrist.”
Amy wanders over to the nurses’ station and lifts the phone. I watch the lines of her body, the tightness of her scrubs over her tits and arse as she talks. I shouldn’t be watching her, but I can’t keep my eyes off her.
When she hangs up, I keep my gaze locked on Amy as she approaches and I know she notices my staring because her cheeks pinken.
“X-ray owes me a favor, so I managed to sneak you in within the next half hour.”
The fact she did that astounds me. In my life, people see my kutte and think I’m good for nothing. They don’t see the man beneath the leather. She sees everything I am and that’s addictive.
“Saturday. Have dinner with me.” I don’t know where the fuck it comes from, but as soon as the words leave my mouth, I know I want her to do it. I know nothing but a yes from her will suffice.
Amy blinks before her brow furrows. “That’s not a good idea.”
“I just want to say thank you for what you’ve done.”
“You don’t need to thank me.”
“You stopped and helped. You didn’t have to. Now you’re rushing through my treatment. You could have left me on the road, waited for the paramedics to come.”
“I didn’t know how long the EMTs would take,” she defends.
“Let me take you for dinner.”
“Shane—”
“I’m not taking no for an answer.”
Flustered, she runs a hand over her head, and tries to distance herself from what’s happening with a, “You’re a patient.”
“In the loosest sense of the word.”
Amy clucks her tongue.
“Shane… We can’t. Besides, I’ve sworn off men.”
This statement both confuses and interests me. What happened to her that she’s written off all men? Crappy ex maybe? The thought of her with other men makes my eye twitch.
“Good thing I’m only asking you to come as a thank you. Nothing more.”
I can see her wavering. I won’t give up either, and I think she knows that. I can also tell she wants to have dinner with me, she’s just worried for some reason. Maybe it’s the name on my back that makes her nervous. I know my Tennessee brothers have a reputation here and not a good one. It’s the same in London.
“Please,” I press. I’m not above begging.
“Okay, just dinner though.”
Triumph roars through me.
“Just dinner,” I agree. “I need your number.”
I hand her my phone and she plugs in her digits. I save them and put my phone away before she can demand I delete them.
I can’t wait to get her on her own and talk to her properly. This woman is tying me up in knots, something that has never happened before.
3
Amy
It’s been three days since I agreed to have dinner with Shane, the biker from the Untamed Sons. I don’t know what I was thinking, but the more time that elapses, the more I think I had a moment of insanity. He’s not only a patient, but Cobi was pretty firm when he said the man was dangerous. What am I doing?
I want to cancel our plans, but he took my number and stupidly, I didn’t take his, which means I need to wait for him to call me. That hasn’t happened yet, even though our dinner date is in two days. Maybe he won’t call. Maybe he’s forgotten. Half of me wishes that will happen, the other half feels disappointed he hasn’t called yet, which makes me certifiable.
I push all thoughts of Shane out of my head as I shove open the door to the Coffee Hut and step inside. There are tables scattered around the space, most of which are filled, and the smell of coffee beans hangs heavily in the air. Divine.
I spot Harmony sitting toward the back of the room and weave around the tables, hugging my purse close to my body, so I don’t accidentally take someone out with it. My purses seem to have gotten larger and larger over the years. In my defense, I have a lot of stuff to carry around.
Harmony notices me and gets to her feet, so she can hug me as I get close. She looks cute today, wearing a bold yellow summer dress with little flowers on it. She also looks happy. Clearly, her biker is keeping her smiling.
Could Shane be good for me?
He’s an outlaw, a man who lives on the wrong side of the law.
