by Geri Glenn
I swallow down the lump that’d formed in my throat while he was talking and nod my head. “Yeah man. I hear ya.”
Smokey just winks at me. “Good. Now, enough of that shit. Let's get this sexy nurse in here and see if I can't get her to give me a sponge bath.”
Crazy son of a bitch.
Chapter Two
Ryker
It’s been two days since Smokey was admitted into this life-sucking building of death. He gets weaker every day, but his pain is moderated now. The catheter they gave him makes it so he doesn’t have to get up to take a piss, and that’s a blessing in itself. Poor fucker would get winded just taking a leak before we came here.
Smokey’s been asleep for about an hour when Nurse Charlotte walks in the room. Fuck me, she’s gorgeous. Her hair is a dark, chocolate brown with hints of red throughout it, which she keeps in a messy bun high up at the back of her head. I would give anything to pull out that elastic and see what it looks like down. I can tell that it’s curlym and maybe even a little wild. She has a round face with rosy cheeks, and a pert little nose that has a patch of freckles fanning across it. Her eyes are a deep brown; large and bright, framed with thick long lashes. She doesn’t appear to wear makeup, but then she doesn’t need it. She’s average height, about five foot five, has great fucking tits a slim waist, and from what I can tell her ass is smoking hot too.
I smirk when I see what she’s wearing tonight. Fucking kittens. All over her scrub top are bunches of little kittens playing with balls of yarn and chasing butterflies. Ridiculous, but cute as hell.
She looks hesitant as she enters, but when she sees it’s just me and Smoke there, she relaxes. She seems almost frightened when the other guys are around and I won’t lie, it gives me some kind of fucked up thrill to know that she’s only relaxed around me.
“Hey.” Her smile is small but it lights up her whole fucking face, and my chest tightens every time I see it. She’s so beautiful. I’ve been with a lot of women. I’m not being cocky when I say that - just stating fact. Women love me and I love women. Not one of those women had a smile like hers though – I’d remember. “How’s Smokey doing tonight?”
God, I’m a dick. Smokey’s lying in bed, dying, and here I am getting a hard on for his sexy as fuck nurse. I shake my head and try to sound cool. “Good. He’s tired but not in any pain.”
Charlotte just nods. “Ok. Well, let me know if he needs anything. I’ll be back in a while to check on him.” She smiles again before leaving the room. It’s quiet in here and I wish she could have stayed, but what the fuck would I talk to her about. She’s a nurse and I’m a criminal – not exactly a whole lot in common. Regardless, I’m drawn to her; I want to know her.
Smokey continues his nap and I continue reading the thriller novel I’ve been reading on my phone. About an hour later, Smokey’s breathing becomes more labored, his breaths coming out in a scary combination of strangled wheezes and gasps.
I jump up and hurry to the bed. “Smoke? Brother? You cool?” His face is turning a strange shade of red and he’s staring at me with panic in his eyes. He shakes his head violently, indicating that no, he is not cool. My heart pounds in my chest. He can’t breathe. He’s gonna fucking die! Like, right now, he is going to fucking die! I’m not ready for this shit.
Reaching over Smokey’s shoulder, I quickly stab at the call button, praying to whatever God will listen that the nurse is an Olympic athlete and will be here in a flash. I’m relieved when Charlotte runs into the room just seconds later.
She takes one look at Smokey and rushes over. Automatically, she pushes the button on his IV, causing more morphine to run into his drip. Then she grabs his hand, leans in real close and starts to whisper to him.
“Shhhhh. Smokey? I need you to settle down, honey.” She grips his huge hand in her tiny one, smoothing his sweaty hair back from his forehead. “Ryker and I are right here with you. I need you to take a deep breath for me, ok?” Her voice has a soothing quality to it, which not only instantly calms Smokey, but works wonders to calm me too. She continues talking in that soft, calming voice as Smokey’s breathing returns to normal. His eyes drift closed, then he’s asleep once again.
Still stroking his head and holding his hand, Charlotte turns her eyes on me. “How about you? You ok, Ryker?”
I’m not, but fuck me if I’m going to admit that to her. I just nod and stare at Smoke, unable to tear my eyes away from the slight rise and fall of his chest.
“It can be really scary watching that.” She nods her head at the man who was like a father to me. “He had a panic attack. Once they lose their breath, even a little, some people tend to panic, and that throws their breathing right off. It’s very scary for them too.” She smiles at me with sympathy in those deep brown eyes of hers.
“Well …” I clear my throat, stalling to think of something to say. My brain is still paused on the scene of my buddy turning fucking red, gasping desperately for breath. “Thanks for calming him down, Charlie. I didn’t know what the fuck to do.” I feel like a god damned pussy.
I hear her quick intake of breath when I call her “Charlie,” and watch her standing there, wide eyes on me before her expression clears and she gives a small shake of her head, as if clearing it. Her cheeks flush a beautiful shade of pink before she smiles again. “Press the button if you need me.” She turns to leave but then stops. “Oh and Ryker?” Her hand lands hesitantly on my shoulder. “You did great.” And with those parting words, she was gone.
I stand by Smokey’s bed, staring at the door she’d just exited from, trying to figure out what this feeling is that I just can’t seem to shake. Jesus. She’s so fucking sweet. She genuinely seemed to care about how I was feeling, and her “you did great” was not something I’d ever heard from anybody but Smoke. Somehow, those words are different coming from a beautiful nurse with deep brown eyes.
I shake my head. I can’t believe I’d called her Charlie. I’d been doing it in my mind, but never before had I said it out loud. I need to pull my head out of my ass. Thinking about her all the time is doing me no favors. Charlie’s a civilian. Getting involved with me and the MC isn’t in her best interest. It’s something that I’ve seen happen before and I’ll be damned if I let it happen to someone like her. Charlie is not for me.
***
Charlotte
Throughout the night, I’ve been in and out of Smokey's room. He’d spent most of that time sleeping and Ryker stayed quiet, letting his friend sleep. I’ve struggled to avoid eye contact with him at all times, but the couple of times I do risk a glance, his eyes are always pinned in my direction, causing my heart to pound erratically in my chest .
He’d called me Charlie. Nobody had ever called me Charlie and gotten away with it. I’ve always hated that name, but when it came from Ryker’s mouth, voice full of such gruff affection, my brain had pretty much turned to mush. It’d taken a great amount of effort to not show him how much I liked hearing him call me that name. To not tackle the poor guy to the ground and screw the ass right off him. Charlie is my new favorite name.
My shift almost over, I’m just finishing up my final rounds and have only one patient left to check. Knocking softly on the door to room 239, I quietly enter the room. Smokey and Ryker are sound asleep. This is the perfect opportunity to get a closer look at the man that seems to be consuming my every thought lately.
His leather cut lays on the back of a chair, at the other side of the room. Without it, Ryker looks a lot less menacing. He’s slumped down, right ankle resting casually on his knee, head against the back of the chair. My chest tightens as I take a step closer. He looks so peaceful in sleep, his face relaxed. That lock of dark hair lays across his forehead, my hand itching to reach out and smooth it back. Absolutely gorgeous.
What the hell is it with this guy? I can't remember ever being so affected by anyone before, let alone a stranger – and a biker at that. Shaking my head, I turn towards Smokey. He’s lying there, eyes on me, quietly watch
ing me while I check out his friend. The blush on my face is instant and he lets out a small chuckle. “Don't worry, honey. You’re not the first girl to look at him like that. Likely the first nice girl though, and that may mean somethin' to Ryk.”
I frown, trying to hide my embarrassment and step up to the bed to take his vitals. “You feeling any pain at the moment?”
“No, darlin'. I'm good. Just tired.” He gives me a weary smile. “You scared of my boy over there?”
My eyes widen at his bluntness. “Um ... well ... honestly? A little. I don't have many good experiences with bad boys, if you know what I mean.” My blush deepens and I aim a shy smile in his direction before turning to leave the room.
“Honey.” Turning back to Smokey, I focus on him. I know it’s difficult for him to be saying so much right now. “He ain't nearly as bad as he's gonna want you to think he is.”
Flustered, I just nod, pat his hand and bid him a good night. Risking one last glance at Ryker, I leave the room.
Chapter Three
Charlotte
The next evening, I find Smokey alone in his room. He’s asleep, but I can’t stand the thought of him waking and nobody being there. After finishing my rounds, I grab my stack of patient files and head back down the hall to Smokey’s room.
Grabbing a chair, I pull it over to the chair beside his bed, where Ryker usually sits each night. After placing my files on one chair, I sit back in the other and start my paperwork. Smokey’s breathing has become more labored since he was admitted. His meds seem to be keeping him free from pain, but I can tell that breathing is even more of a struggle for him. Where’s his family? Or Ryker for that matter? He’s always here at this time.
I’m halfway through my reports when the door opens. I look up with a smile on my face, expecting to see Ryker, but the smile wavers when I see it’s not him. Standing before me is the scary biker from the hall, the day Smokey was admitted. He steps into the room and closes the door. My heart races, realizing that I’m closed inside a room with this guy. He glances at Smokey and then spears me in place with narrowed, angry eyes.
“What the hell are you sittin’ in here for?” His voice is rough and accusatory. Completely caught off guard, words fail me and I sit there staring at him with wide eyes, my mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. What the hell does he think I’m doing in here?
“I … I just.” I clear my throat and try again. “I’m just keeping Smokey company. Nobody was here, so I thought I’d sit with him in case he wakes up.” I stand and quickly begin gathering my things. “But you’re here now, so I will leave you to your visit.” I fumble while gathering up my files and they fall to the ground, papers scattering across the floor.
“Why’s he breathin’ so rough? Can’t you give him somethin’ to help him breathe?” He takes a menacing step towards me while I kneel on the floor, once again collecting my folders. My hands are shaking, my heart threatening to leap out of my chest entirely. “We brought the poor fucker here so he could be at peace. This doesn’t look too fuckin’ peaceful.”
As he takes another step, getting far too close for my comfort, I jump to my feet. “He …” My throat won’t cooperate with me at all and I just can’t get out the words. Struggling to swallow back my fear, I take a step back from the giant monster in front of me.
Just as I’m about to try another attempt at explaining, the door opens again and Ryker fills the doorway. Relief floods my entire body. He steps inside, his eyes flicking from the angry monster to me. I watch his face darken, his jaw tightening.
“What the fuck, Reaper?” So monster man’s name is Reaper? I shiver. Charming. “What’d you do to Charlie?” My eyes snap from one man to the other.
Ryker storms past his buddy, shoulder slamming into him as he passes. He heads directly towards me, and now my pulse is racing for an entirely different reason. It’s not fear, but I don’t have time to figure out what it is before he reaches me.
“Jesus Christ, baby girl. You’re shaking like a leaf!” He places his giant hands on my upper arms, rubbing them gently up and down, then turns his head to glare at Reaper once more. “Why the fuck is she so pale? What’d you do to her?”
Reaper opens his mouth to respond, but I beat him to it. I just want to get the hell out of this room. “Mr … Reaper didn’t do anything to me, Ryker.” I place my hand on his arm. Touching him skin on skin sends a jolt of electricity straight through me, causing the hair on the back of my neck to stand on end.
Leaning over so I can see around Ryker, I look directly at his friend, feeling bolder now with him here – touching me. I feel safe. “Smokey is on medication. His pain is mostly gone. Unfortunately, with lung cancer, his breathing is going to get more and more difficult as it progresses. Aside from pain medications and oxygen, there isn’t much we can do for him.”
Reaper just continues to glare at me, not saying a word. “I know that seeing it isn’t easy, but be assured we’re doing everything we can to make him comfortable.” I glance back at Ryker and give him my most reassuring smile. He doesn’t look reassured. He looks pissed.
Kneeling down once again, I collect the last of my files from the floor and stand. “Now, if you’ll both excuse me, I have rounds to do.” I quickly step past Ryker, my chest brushing his as I do. Ignoring the butterflies that suddenly go wild from the contact, I take a wide step around Reaper and rush from the room.
In the hallway, I breathe a sigh of relief as I close the door behind me. That was intense and scary, but mostly I’m confused by the emotions Ryker caused me to feel. Squaring my shoulders, I decide to think about it later, when I’m not on shift and caring for dying people with many more important problems than my butterfly attacks.
As I approach the nurse’s desk, the call bell for Mrs. Evans’ room chimes. I plunk down my files and hurry down the hall. Mrs. Evans had taken a turn for the worst over the last couple of days. The doctor had informed her husband that it was only a matter of time, and advised that her family be called in to say their final goodbyes. Since then, there’s been a steady flow of visitors to her room and her husband hasn’t left her side. She’s been in a comatose state for almost twenty four hours now.
I’ve been giving them privacy to be with each other in her final moments, just checking in discreetly and keeping the coffee pot full. Mr. Evans is standing in the doorway, looking up the hall as I approach. His eyes are filled with tears and his voice shakes with sadness. “She’s gone.” All thoughts of scary biker men and butterflies vanish.
I enter the room and find Mrs. Evans is indeed gone. My heart is lodged in my throat. Life is just so unfair sometimes. She was so young, and her children are now going to grow up without a mother. She was such a kind lady and so full of love – I fucking hate cancer.
Slowly, I approach Mr. Evans who stands before me, looking lost. I place my hand on his arm gently. “I am so very sorry for your loss.” My voice quivers with grief for this family. Normally, I’m able to say the right things to grieving families, but looking into the eyes of this broken man, I’m at a complete loss for words.
“I will give you some time with her. The doctor will be in momentarily.” The grief clogs my throat and tears threaten to pour from my eyes. After gently squeezing his arm, I leave the room.
***
Ryker
I haven’t seen Charlie again since I walked in on whatever the fuck was going on between her and Reaper earlier. Cocksucker. When I came into that room, seeing her pale and clearly terrified, I wanted to rip that fucker’s throat out for scaring her. That thought alone is messed right the fuck up. Reaper is my brother. We stand together – always. So why did I want to kill him for scaring Charlie?
Reaper’d told me what had happened and I believed him. He can be a scary bastard, but Charlie’s reaction was extreme. She was petrified. It was eating at me, and I need to know why she’d been so afraid. I’d warned Reaper to stay the fuck away from her. He’d agreed, but not before cracking a jo
ke about her having me by the balls. Asshole.
Smokey’s sound asleep. I need a smoke, and a break from this depressing as fuck room of death. Quietly slipping out of the room, I wander down the hall and out into the chilly night air. Snagging a cigarette out of my pack, I put it to my lips and light it. The first inhale works wonders to relieve some of the tension that’s been weighing on my shoulders and my mind for months, even if that relief is only temporary.
Waiting for your buddy to die fuckin’ sucks. My old man had been a dick. I hated the son of a bitch. Smokey’d been there for me since I was just a little kid, filling in that father role. Dad had been the president of the Kings of Korruption. He didn’t give a shit about anyone or anything but his club, and making money however he could. My mom had died when I was only six years old, so since then it’d been just me and my old man.
My dad lived and breathed the MC. We lived at the clubhouse, where I had my own room. I was raised by club whores and the old ladies of other members. I’d seen more sex, drugs and drunken disputes by the age of ten than most people had seen in their entire lives. By the time I was fifteen, I had experience with all of the above. My old man rarely spoke to me, unless I did something to piss him off. He knocked me around a lot. His hatred was evident every time he looked at me. In the end, I found that if I just avoided him, he wouldn’t even know I was around. He was killed by a rival club when I was seventeen years old, and I hadn’t missed him one day since.
Taking another deep haul off of my smoke, I look out into the night. Hearing a noise that sounds an awful lot like crying, I look towards a bench that’s cast in shadows. I can’t see over there at all, but the sounds are obviously coming from a woman. Crying women freak me right the fuck out. I’m about to look away, when a car turns into the parking lot, the headlights briefly passing over the crying figure.
