by Deja Voss
“Esther, eh?” His beady little eyes light up. “I could use a little religion in my life.”
Brooks shoots me a look that could kill. I don’t know what to tell him aside from the fact that Esther is a grown woman and she knows exactly what she’s doing.
“I’m outta here,” I tell him. “I’ll keep you guys posted.”
I straddle my blacked-out Indian Chief Dark Horse, hit the throttle, and start the engine, the sound of pure bliss and freedom under most circumstances. I usually enjoy the ride down the side of the mountain, connecting with nature all the way, but today I’m just in a hurry; in a hurry to make sure Goob’s alright, and if I’m lucky, maybe catch a glimpse of this girl who’s been messing with my head since the day I met her.
Chapter 4
Sloan
I can’t believe after all the effort Olive has made to keep me out of any of this motorcycle club shit, that she would even suggest this.
I’m pretty sure the orders aren’t coming directly from her mouth, but regardless, she asked me to do something that could seriously put my career in jeopardy.
And yet, here I am doing it—rooting around in Hank’s pants pockets, his leather cut, anything that I find laying in this locker in his room. I’m sure the police have already been through what they need at the scene of the accident, but here I am, double-checking just in case.
Just by the feel of it, I know exactly what this bag in his pants pocket is before I can even see it. I’ve seen thousands of them in my day. I used to call them “tuition bags.” I tried to laugh about it at the time, but the truth was, this thing I’m holding in my hand is the worst thing in the world to me. I don’t blame Hank. I blame whoever got him hooked on it to begin with, and whoever is sleazy enough to keep selling it to him.
I slip it into my pocket, looking over my shoulder the whole time. I have every right to be in the room with him, as it’s my job to oversee his recovery from the accident, but I’m sure if anyone caught me digging around in here, they’d have no problem running straight to the board of directors. I don’t know exactly how many “strikes” I have against me, as we never really openly discussed my arrest or the trial, but I’m sure this would be the one that gets me officially tossed out of the program.
I walk over to his side, double-checking the monitors beeping away next to him.
“Hank Boden, what’s your deal?” I whisper, watching his eyelids flutter a little as he lays there in the hospital bed. He’s still in the recovery room, still coming down off of anesthesia, and I wish I could keep him that way a little longer. He’s in for a long and painful rehab as soon as he wakes up.
Part of me is hanging around because I don’t want him to have to be alone when he awakens, just in case nobody makes it in time. He’s definitely going to be frightened, in pain, and probably really confused. Although I know that being a proficient surgeon is critical to my success at this career, I sometimes have a soft spot for my patients. I hate to see human suffering. I want to help heal the world.
Of course there’s more to my attention to Hank than just that.
There’s a small part of me hoping Gavin will be the one to walk through those doors.
I watch his vitals on the monitor as his chest drops down and fills up, his breathing becoming less shallow as each moment passes.
“Where the fuck is my son?” a voice booms through the hallway. I look out the window blinds and see an older man charging down the corridor, peeking in windows and knocking on doors. He looks vaguely familiar to me, but the lines on his face and the gray in his beard are not who I was hoping for; not who I wanted to deal with at all. Carol is doing her best to keep up with him but her nicotine habit is getting the best of her lung power.
“Sir, you need to calm down. I’ll take you to him, but you have to be respectful of the other patients,” she yells.
“Buzz off, blondie,” he barks. When his eyes catch mine, I am instantly filled with fear. His leather cut tells me everything I need to know. The president of the Mountain Misfits sneers at me before barnstorming the room.
“I need discharge papers now,” he says in a low deep snarl. It takes everything in me not to laugh. Of all the ridiculous suggestions I’ve heard in my life, me discharging a patient who is currently anesthetized has to be one of the craziest.
“Sir, that’s simply not possible,” I say. “He’s not even awake yet.” My voice is wavering, but I need to stand my ground. In any other setting, I’d probably be frightened by a man like this, but this hospital is my home. This is my turf, and I’m not going to let some delusional man stroll in and boss me around.
“You want me to call security?” Carol asks, trying to catch her breath as she finally makes it to the room.
“No.” I shake my head. “Can you give us a moment, actually? Shut the door behind you.”
She looks at me like I’m a crazy woman, and maybe I am, but I’ve spent years of my life dealing with men like this, and if I want to give Hank a fighting chance, I need his father to at least feel like we’re on the same page.
“Dr. Sullivan…” The warning in her voice is clear. She definitely thinks I’m making a bad decision. Potentially a dangerous decision.
“Nurse Lee.” I scowl back. She shakes her head and slams the door behind her loud enough to wake the dead.
He is staring me up and down, his dark eyes squinted. He’s trying every intimidation tactic in the book, and I’m doing my best to just let it roll right off my back.
“I don’t know what you’re trying to pull here, Doc, but you’re really not my type. Maybe you could get one of your doctor friends to slap some tits on ya and we could talk.”
His words, his demeanor, everything about him, disgusts me, yet his stature and his face are so familiar. This has to be Gavin’s father.
“What’s your name?” I ask.
“It doesn’t matter. I just want my son out of here. Cops been by yet?”
“Not that I know of. I’m sure they won’t be until he’s at least awake. I can see why you’re concerned, but Hank needs a lot of rehab before he’s going to be in any condition to be released.”
He’s standing so close to me, breathing down my neck, all I can smell is stale tobacco. My skin crawls. He’s backing me into the corner, but I’m not afraid of him.
“Come on, lady,” he sneers. “Just give me the papers.”
“I can’t,” I say, completely honestly. In all actuality, as a surgeon in training, I have no power whatsoever to sign patients out.
He slowly caresses the side of my face, but it’s not a kind gesture. “I think you can, and I think you will.”
“Sir,” I state as firmly as possible, “I’m not that kind of doctor. I’m just a student. If you would kindly take your hands off of me, I can call my supervisor, Dr. Peterman, if you’d like. I don’t think your charm is going to work on him, either, though.”
“Bitch,” he mutters under his breath as he begins pacing the room.
I don’t know why I’m even bothering with this man. I should just storm out now, take that bag of heroin and hand it right over to Dr. Peterman.
“Just you wait, girl,” he says. “My boy will be here any time now, and I’m sure you’ll drop the attitude real quick. You think I’m mean? He makes me look like a fucking pussycat.”
That’s when I realize where I know him, how I know him. This can’t be Gavin’s father. He’s so… disgusting. They might look alike, but I find it hard to believe that they are similar in any other way. That being said, maybe I don’t know Gavin as well as I think I do.
Maybe that’s why Olive has been so adamant about keeping us apart. Maybe he’s actually a huge creep. It’s possible, that’s for sure. I tend to be a magnet for good-looking creeps.
Still, I take his statement as a challenge.
“I have all the time in the world, sir.” I laugh. I definitely have to stick around and see just how mean Gavin really is.
Chapter 5
&n
bsp; Gavin
“Oh come on, you people have to be kidding me,” the short blonde nurse shouts disgustedly as soon as she spots me in the reception area.
“Excuse me?” I ask, confused. “I’m just looking for my brother, ma’am.”
“Well you’re much more polite than the old guy who just came tearing through here. Come on, I’ll take you to him.”
“Shit,” I mumble and take off. I was really wishing my father didn’t get here first, and I’m sure he’s not doing anything in terms of damage control. Hopefully whoever he’s talking to has nerves of steel, because the man is about as pleasant as a herpes outbreak.
“Seriously?” the woman says, trying to chase me down. She’s got quite a few years on me and she’s panting with every step. “You guys are going to give me a heart attack. Room 112!” she shouts as she resigns to leaning up against the wall.
I look through the blinds in the window and die a little bit inside.
There she is, just like I remember her, except she’s standing face-to-face with the last person I wanted her to ever meet, and she doesn’t exactly look thrilled. I’m completely horrified and I’m sure he’s putting her through the ringer. She seems to be holding up perfectly fine, though, hands on her hips, chest puffed out as she gets right in his face.
“Listen,” she’s shouting. “I’m not authorized to do that. I’m trying to help you, and if you would just shut up for two minutes and let me get a word in, I’ll tell you what you need to do.”
“Hey,” I say, slinking into the room, uncertain of how I should be interacting in this exact moment. I catch her eye, and instantly, her face softens and she shoots me a knowing smile. It’s like my very presence just flipped some sort of switch on her demeanor.
I’m not going to lie; the way she’s going at it with my father is kind of a turn-on. There’s something sexy about her little burst of authority. She’s swimming in her baggy scrubs, and it’s obvious she’s the type of girl who is too chronically busy to remember to eat. Even behind her cool scowl, she’s beautiful.
Nothing like a club slut.
Not even the kind of cute but uppity chick who dates you to piss off her parents and tries to turn you into a golfer.
She looks like the kind of woman that makes you want to rip yourself open and bare every dirty disgusting inch of your being to. The kind that keeps you up all night pacing around in circles, worrying that they’re going to leave you because you know you’re not good enough. The kind that you have to push far far away or you’ll suffocate them to death with your need to be intertwined with every ounce of their soul. You make them think it’s their fault. You spend the next few years dead inside, banging random strippers and pretending like you made the right choice.
I’ve seen many men fall victim to these kind of women. It’s kind of the Mountain Misfit Curse.
“Not now, Gavin.” My inner alarm bells ring. “You’re here for your brother.”
“Close the door,” they both urge simultaneously in a whispered yell, and I almost feel like an outsider in their weird argument.
“Is he ok?” I ask. Seeing his barely breathing body there, hooked up to all those machines and tubes instantly snaps me out of any sort of deluded fantasy I had of how this day was going to go. It’s not as easy as grabbing my woman, grabbing my brother, going up the mountain and never coming down.
This is serious shit.
“He’s going to be alright. He’s a lucky guy. He has a tibial fracture and a torn ACL, which we repaired. He’s going to need to be in a cast for at least six weeks, then intensive physical therapy after that,” she says calmly. “He should be awake here shortly.”
I watch his chest rise and fall, stealing glimpses of her as my father paces the room dramatically. I don’t know what he expected out of me when I got here, but I’m sure the fact that I’m not up in Sloan’s face bullying her like he was is not making him happy.
“We need him outta here before the cops show, son. He’s not safe here. They don’t know his condition.”
I don’t want to fight with him in front of her, and I’m sure his ‘condition’ is obvious. He’s a straight-up junkie, and we’re his enablers.
“This bitch here, she’s basically useless. Won’t get me discharge papers, won’t suck my dick, I don’t even know what she’s doing here.”
My blood is boiling. Sloan’s not just some random hole. She shouldn’t have to take his verbal abuse.
“Knock it off, Moses,” I hiss. “If it wasn’t for her, you wouldn’t even know Goob was missing to begin with.”
His lips turn to an evil sneer as he runs his hand through his beard.
“You fucking her? What’sa matter boy? You getting bored with all that mountain pussy?”
I’m speechless. If I had any chance with her, this asshole is doing everything in his power to ruin it, and I don’t even have words to make it right. I could punch him, but I don’t think that would do anything to help the situation.
“Listen,” she says sternly, “I can’t get you discharge papers. Nobody here is going to give you fucking discharge papers. It’s a liability case waiting to happen. What I can tell you is that there’s no law against leaving on your own accord. You get him out that door, he’s not our problem anymore. I obviously think it’s a terrible idea, but you gotta do what you gotta do.”
She pulls out a bag from her pocket and tosses it to me.
“This fell out of his pants when I was digging through the pockets once Olive tipped me off. I didn’t find anything else, and I don’t know if it will help in the case with the cops, but you probably want to get rid of it.”
I know what the waxy little bag is without looking. I slip it into my jeans and nod in appreciation.
She gets right in my father’s face, standing on her tiptoes so she can stare him right in the eyes. “Before you call me ‘basically useless’ I want you to remember I set his fucking bones, I stitched him back up, I made sure you guys knew he was here, and I tampered with evidence. So you can suck your own dick.”
The look on my father’s face is frightening. He’s grinning from ear to ear, just shaking his head at her. You know he’s about to attack when the smile is all teeth.
Instead, his phone rings. He looks down at it and heads for the door.
“If ya’ll will excuse me,” he says.
She puts her head in her hands and lets out a long sigh.
“Sloan,” I say, approaching her, wrapping my arms around her shoulders, hugging her into me. “I’m so sorry. He’s really fucking terrible. You shouldn’t have had to deal with that.”
She’s cold, stiff as a board, and she looks up at me, her face spattered with tears, red and puffy.
“I gotta go,” she says softly, but she doesn’t move, just stands there while I hold her, studying my face. It’s becoming painfully obvious why Olive has been so protective of her. She’s been back in my life for less than fifteen minutes and she’s already crying.
And it’s all my fault.
Not because of what I said or did, but because of who I am—a Mountain Misfit, just like my father.
“I understand,” I say, holding her shoulders in my hands, looking her up and down. I never want to let her go. I want to bring her closer, have her, keep her, protect her from anyone who would ever hurt her like this, but obviously I can’t.
I’m the one responsible for the hurting.
And then everything changes.
She puts her hands on my face, putting her lips on mine.
It’s a hard, powerful kiss; something so far beyond sexual, it’s bizarrely comforting, like everything is fixed. It’s a bond that seals a deal. I’ve been waiting for this moment for so fucking long, and as convoluted as it is, it’s exactly how I imagined it.
She put everything on the line for me without me even asking. And now it’s my job to get her as far away from all of this as possible.
I just can’t, though. If I let her go again, it’s going to be on
her own accord.
Sloan
In this moment, I am so conflicted. I am acting out of body, I’m doing things that don’t even make sense to me.
Deep breaths, Sloan, I try reminding myself for fear that I’m going to pass out. I look over my shoulder, intense paranoia setting in. I let my emotions get the best of me. My fear, my overwhelming anger, my raging attraction to this gorgeous piece of man standing in front of me.My heart is pounding. I don’t know what happens from here. The walls are closing in tighter and tighter around me, around us. Those troubled dark eyes staring a hole right through my clothes, his dark beard, inked arms even more muscular than I remembered. He’s so tall, he could break me in two…
Snap out of it, Sloan.
“I’m sorry, Gavin,” I barely squeak out. The heaviness of the moment is squeezing all the air out of my chest, squeezing my brains out of my ears. I look around the room, trying to center myself, trying to bring myself back to this hospital, back to the patient, back to my reality. “I really have to go.”
“Come here,” he says, grabbing my arm, pulling me away from the view of the window, and I don’t even put up a fight. Tucked away in the corner, he wraps me in his strong arms, our bodies pressed against each other, hugging me close, his breath in my ear setting my panties on fire. “I let you run away once,” he growls. “That’s not going to happen again.”
I want him in the worst way, and the longer I stand there in his arms, soaking in his leathery deliciousness, the more my ability to be rational and logical starts melting away. I’m instantly wet, needy, melting in his arms. Visions of him tossing me to the floor, unzipping his pants, and letting me take him in my mouth right here are running through my mind. Something about him just makes me want to be the dirtiest version of myself that I can be.
