Biker Daddy (A Rogue Tide Motorcycle Club Romance)

by Nikki Wild

  "You should go to work," Alyona stuck her tongue out before turning and padding up the stairs. I sighed, grabbed my lunch and coffee, and went out through the back. The sun was barely up, but with a long winter finally coming to an end, I didn't need to warm up my car for a half hour, or breathe on the door handles to unstick them, or shovel my way out of the drive. New England winters are a bitch and a half.

  Reminded Deda of home, or so he said.

  Personally, I could have done without the reminder. One more winter and I would probably turn translucent. I practiced my morning meditation behind the wheel, with the engine running and heater on. It was corny, something I'd heard Aly say during her yoga. I guess it just rubbed off on me.

  May I have clear and loving thoughts, may I have clear and loving intentions, may I have clear and loving speech.

  Alright. That was done. Time to make the proverbial donuts.

  "Shit!" I exclaimed as my car lurched and struggled over a stray patch of black ice. Clear and loving speech, my ass.

  Chapter 3

  Lucya

  I was the first nurse on shift. Sandra wouldn't be coming in for another half-hour. And Dr. Barton was out - Dr. Solomon was covering for her. He usually only worked on Mondays, had only a handful of patients. Jenny, our receptionist, was running late. So the general setting-up was on my shoulders. By the time Jenny was in and we were ready for our first patient, the waiting list had eight names on it. Spring fever had hit, plus a decent bout of strep going around.

  I forgot all about the conversation I'd eavesdropped on and went into hyper mode. By ten, Alicia was in, lightening my workload. If Dr. Solomon wasn't the slowest doctor in Massachusetts, we would have been in great shape.

  I barely looked up from the chart in my hand when I swept into Exam Room 4.

  "Hello..."

  I'd like to say that I'm professional enough that my first concern was the little girl. I'd like to say that, but I can't.

  Because her father - oh, boy.

  Or, more accurately, oh, man.

  Six-foot-something, built like an aircraft carrier, and tattooed from shoulder to wrist, he was a sight in denim and leather. I've always had a thing for bad boys. Runs in the family, I guess. And he looked about as bad as they come. Even badder, if you can believe it. He had a full beard and mustache surrounding some very kissable lips, silvery-gray eyes, and blond hair that peeked out from underneath a tied-up bandanna. Somehow, he looked familiar to me. Not just because he bore a striking resemblance to Thor. I must have seen him before somewhere.

  "Hello," I said again well aware of the lilt in my voice as the door shut behind me.

  "Hi!"

  Finally, my better self appeared, and I turned to the girl on the exam table. She was certainly her father's daughter. From the blond hair to the gray eyes, she was as cherubic as he was devilish. She also looked pretty healthy, so I didn't feel as bad about my eyes making a beeline for her dad.

  "It's Amy, right?" I said, crossing the room to shake her little hand, which delighted her so much she squirmed against the crinkly white paper. "And you are..."

  I turned to the father and glanced at her chart at the same time.

  "Thomas?" I glanced up, quirking an eyebrow. He was so familiar. And the heat in my body when I looked at him - that was familiar, too.

  "Sinner," he said. "They call me Sinner."

  "Huh," I said, wishing I could think straight and look into his eyes at the same time. No such luck. My best bet was to turn back to Amy, who was kicking her legs against the table. Sinner, standing beside her, put a hand on her knee to stop the swinging. Well, I guess he cared about manners, at least a little bit.

  "And what brings you here today?" I asked, getting some equipment ready.

  "She had a fever last night," Sinner answered. "It's gone now, I think. But she was complaining about her throat."

  "Ah," I said, putting a hand to Amy's forehead before taking her actual temperature. "Have you been doing too much yodeling, young lady?"

  Amy looked confused, glancing at her father for an answer. Shit. I had hoped she would get the joke so I didn't have to do my famous Ricola routine in front of Gerard Butler's blond cousin. To my surprise and delight, he solved that problem for me.

  "You know what she means," he said. "Yo-de-lay-he-hoo."

  Amy laughed so hard that I gave up trying to do any of my preliminary tests until she calmed down. Instead, I gave myself license to look at Sinner again. God, he was handsome. And he was...

  Unmarried. At least, he wasn't wearing a ring.

  "Amy's mother usually brings her in," he said, apparently noticing where my eyes had wandered. I blushed, but only a little. So I was interested. I'm glad he knew it, because the way he looked at me implied that he might be interested, too. "But I kind of had surprise custody last night, and I couldn't get in touch with her this morning. We're...estranged."

  "Well, it's nice to meet you," I said. "I actually started not too long ago, so I'm still getting to know the parents."

  "It's very nice to meet you," he said. No, he growled it. Something very kid-unfriendly raced through my mind, but I blocked it out and turned back to Amy, who was kicking her legs again.

  "And it's nice to meet you," I said. Amy nodded enthusiastically.

  "Daddy said I should still come to the doctor even though I feel okay," she said, offering the kind of unasked-for answer kids often provide.

  "That's a good thing," I said. "Daddy just wants to make sure everything is okay."

  "Yes, I know," Amy said. "I was just sayin' that I'm glad cause..."

  She didn't quite get to the end of her sentence, trailing off while her eyes drifted along the colorful banner on the wall.

  "'Cause, um...."

  "Because Nurse..." Sinner glanced at my breasts - which, I had to remind myself, was where my name tag hung. "Nurse Lucya is very pretty and nice, and you're glad we met her?" Sinner asked, prompting Amy to nod her head.

  "Yeah," she said.

  "Kids say the darndest things," he said, giving me a wink. You guessed it - that wink was fucking familiar. But what a cad he was, using his sick daughter as a flirting tool! What an awful, handsome, sexy cad! I tried to show him just what I thought of his pick-up technique with my eyes, but he just chuckled. I fought a losing battle against a smile, and turned to Amy again.

  "Well, let's take a look-see, shall we? Can you hold still for me, sweetie?"

  "Yes, ma'am," she said, going shock-still. I laughed; she went from silly to serious about as fast as my thoughts went from taking her temperature to checking out her dad again. I would have wondered what got into me, but I knew damn well. It had a lot to do with the way Sinner's eyes stole a glance at my ass when I bent over to throw out the sanitary cap on the thermometer. If his hands were half as good as his eyes at making my spine tingle...

  Nope. Not then, not there. Not at work, with a patient. I gathered everything that was left of my resolve and got down to business. But damn if he wasn't determined to make that hard.

  Chapter 4

  Sinner

  "So you just started here?" I asked, watching her stick the thermometer into Amy's ear.

  "Yeah, a few weeks ago." She answered coolly, trying not to cave to the desire to keep flirting with me. And good for her, because I probably shouldn't have been flirting like that in front of Amy. But a man can't help it when a raven-haired, blue-eyed, steaming pile of sex walks into the room. Scrubs or no scrubs, I wanted to get under this woman's skin. And then get under her...

  "See, Daddy? They have these," Amy pointed one finger at the device in her ear. "Is better."

  Lucya smiled as she removed the thermometer. I reminded myself that we were in mixed company and corralled my wandering eye. I could keep this PG, couldn't I? It was a challenge, but I have always loved challenges.

  "I don't like the mouth ones," Amy informed Lucya, completely ignorant to my internal struggle.

  "Neither do I," she said, disposin
g of the thermometer tip. "They taste like pennies."

  "Eat a lot of pennies, do you?" Her eyes flashed with sly mirth as she glanced at me. Damn. Why did that look make me feel like I'd seen it before? Seen her before? She turned back to Amy, made a growling noise and turned her hands into claws.

  "I eat everything," she said. Amy looked like she didn't know whether to be scared or amused. Lucya dropped the act and shrugged. "Except for little kids."

  "Why you don't eat little kids?" Amy asked while Lucya prepared to take her blood pressure.

  "I'm on a diet," she said. "Little kids make you fat. They're too full of silliness. If I ate little kids, I'd end up looking like this."

  She puffed her cheeks out and gestured with her hands until Amy laughed again, then wrapped my daughter's arm in the Velcro sensor.

  "Can I eat pennies?" Amy asked.

  "No," I said. "Only people with black hair and blue eyes can eat pennies."

  "Oh," Amy said, taking this very seriously. "What can blond people with gray eyes eat?"

  "As much ice cream as they want, as long as their Daddy says it’s okay," I said, unable to stop myself from ruffling her hair. Amy got a very serious look on her face as she considered this. When Lucya was just about through with the blood pressure test, Amy looked up with her own little eureka moment.

  "Do you eat cigarettes?" she asked. Lucya looked a bit surprised.

  "No way," she said. "Cigarettes are gross."

  "See!" Amy turned to me with accusation in her voice. Lucya raised an eyebrow, glancing up at me, amusement and concern dueling in her eyes. I suppressed a groan. Amy had seen me smoke all of one cigarette in her life – I quit when she was born and had one little slip-up. One cigarette, and she acted like I was the Marlboro man.

  "Daddy should know better," she said. "Cigarettes are yucky, don't you think?"

  "Amy..."

  "They are yucky," Amy said. "Daddy says he doesn’t do it, but I seen't him. And all his friends do it. Even Uncle Tusk."

  "Daddy doesn't smoke when you're around, does he?"

  Now her look was downright combative. Thanks, Amy. What a great little winglady you are.

  "Nooooo," Amy said, kicking her legs against the table again. "But I know."

  "I actually quit when Amy was born," I said, trying to smooth the waters. “She saw me in a moment of weakness. And no one smokes inside when she’s around. Cardinal rule.”

  Lucya gave me the kind of half-smile that told me she would accept that explanation, but the little tidbit would be filed away in that vast storage system all women keep in their brains. If I had something like that, I might remember where I'd seen her before - or where I'd seen someone who looked like her before.

  "Well, just make sure you don't grow up to be like Daddy, or Uncle Tusk," she said, smoothing a ruffle I'd left in Amy's hair. "At least, not where smoking is concerned."

  Amy hummed and pointed to the jar of cotton balls, changing the subject in a heartbeat.

  "Can I have one?"

  "Sure," Lucya said, not batting an eye at my daughter's odd request. She popped a fluffy white cotton ball into my daughter's outstretched hand. It promptly disappeared into Amy's pocket.

  "For my fairy friend," Amy said.

  "Right," Lucya said. "That's what fairies eat?"

  "No! That's her pillow!"

  "I know," Lucya grinned. "I told you, I eat everything. Don't you eat your pillows?"

  "No!" Amy laughed.

  "What about you, Mr. Sinner?" Lucya asked, grabbing the folder and making a note inside it, pointedly avoiding eye contact. "Don't you eat pillows?"

  "I prefer steak," I said, taking my chance while it was still within reach. "Maybe I could introduce you to the wonders of beef sometime? It’s a bit more filling than down feathers."

  Now, she looked up at me, eyes dancing again. Damn, they were bluer than a clear sky over the Atlantic. Her mouth dropped open a bit, red lips parting to show a hint of teeth; I was fascinated by that darkness under the white line of her teeth, where her tongue lay. A cave I could explore for hours. I bet she tasted like cinnamon. I licked my lips.

  "I think your daddy just asked me on a date," she said, throwing those blue eyes of hers to my daughter. She dropped the folder to her lap like she just couldn't believe it. Amy made an exaggerated gasp, covering her mouth with her hands and opening her eyes wide. Then she started giggling. Lucya leaned in to speak in a stage whisper, as though sharing a secret conversation with my daughter. "What do you think? Should I say yes?"

  Amy nodded enthusiastically. Okay, so she wasn't such a bad wingman. She leaned in, cupping a hand around Lucya's ear. Among the many things Amy had yet to master was whispering, so I heard every word. "He gives really good hugs."

  Amy pulled back, nodding very seriously now. Lucya laughed, the sound almost as bright as her eyes.

  "Well, I guess I don't have a choice then," she said. "I'm a sucker for hugs."

  A thousand things ran through my head that would be entirely inappropriate to say in front of my daughter. Luckily, Dr. Solomon chose that moment to slouch into the room, looking like Rumpelstiltskin waking up from his hundred-year-nap.

  "Weeeeeeellllll," he said, easing himself down onto a rolling stool. "What have we got here. I heard a little girl had a frog in her throat. Must be you. Have you been drinking swamp water?"

  Amy laughed as he rolled up to her.

  "I think I've got it from here, Lu," Dr. Solomon said. "Little boy in 4 needs an escort to the x-ray room."

  "See you later, Amy," Lucya waved as she headed to the door. She paused for a second, hand on the doorknob, eyes finding mine. "You too, Sinner."

  Before I could respond, she was gone. Dr. Solomon did his whole check-up routine, concluded that Amy was just fine and probably had a bit of a cold and that the worst of it was over, did a strep test just in case and then dismissed us with a prescription for chicken soup and tea with honey.

  You better believe that the second I stepped into that hallway, I was looking for that nurse. I didn't see her right away; when Amy went back to the waiting room to play while I paid up, I asked the receptionist where I might find her. The receptionist gave me a look that screamed if only I'd gotten to you first, but she told me that Lucya would probably be back at the desk in a bit. So I stalled, watching Amy play with one of those toys with balls and wires and stuff. Same damn toy they had when I was a kid. Some things never change.

  "Hey," her voice surprised me from behind. She was wearing that smile again. Sweet - and not-so-sweet. I leaned against the wall, showing off how casual I could be around a woman who clearly knocked men off their feet daily.

  "Hey," I said. "So, do I get to call you Lu, too?"

  Her nose crinkled.

  "You can call me Lucy," she said. "We'll work our way down to Lu, okay?"

  I took a second to study her body without worrying about Amy, letting my eyes roam over her curves; but when that second was over and I managed to look at her face again, she wasn't smiling anymore. She had her arms crossed over her chest, one hip out.

  "I saw that," she said.

  "Yeah, well, I saw this," I said, gesturing up and down with my hand. "And I couldn't help but look again. Sue me."

  Her lips pulled up at the corners again - then her tongue slipped out, wetting them from one side to the other. I nearly growled, my cock twitching at the subtle hint of sex her expression threw my way.

  "Alright," she said. "But let's keep it out of court. I'll settle for that steak you promised. Make it a big one. Like I said...I eat everything."

  Oh fuck.

  "I only deal in big ones, darling," I grinned, trying to act nonplussed. "You got a number?"

  She couldn't hide her amusement at my corny come-on, and recited her number while I tapped it into my phone.

  "You free Friday?"

  "After six," she nodded, making that black ponytail bounce. Fuck. I'd make it bounce, too, before she even knew it. She took a step forward. "
And by the way..."

  Oh, shit. One more step forward put her in reaching distance, and she put one hand on my chest, fingers splayed wide, slight pressure on my solar plexus.

  "...I'm not really that interested in hugs."

  "Good," I murmured. "Because I got a whole catalog of shit I'm good at, and hugs don't even make the list."

  Before she could pull it away, I grabbed her wrist and pulled her hand to my mouth, pressing my lips to her flesh for the first time. The first time of many, I hoped. She smelled aseptic, of course, like latex and rubbing alcohol. But underneath that was something spicy and salty and exotic.

  I rubbed my thumb over the back of her hand just once before I gave it back to her, and turned around before she could have the last word. The last thing I saw before Amy rushed to my side and put her little hand in mine was Lucy, holding the hand I'd kissed in her other hand, rubbing it like she was trying to absorb my touch into her body.

  I'd never wish illness on my daughter but damn...I wasn't all that pissed about spending my morning at the pediatrician's office.

  Chapter 5

  Lucya

  "You're gonna wear the red dress?"

  Aly lay on her stomach on the bed, her shins up and crossed, her phone in her hand.

  "I was gonna," I said, standing in front of my closet. "You have an opinion about that?"

  "Only that it's your sexiest dress," Alyona said, flipping over onto her back. "And you better not let Alexei see you in it."

  I scoffed.

  "You know, we're not all terrified of Alexei," I said.

  "Really?" Alyona looked away from her phone long enough to give me a knowing glance. "Then you went on that date with Dmitri last weekend because you really like guys with caviar breath?"

  I grabbed my red dress and threw it defiantly on the bed beside my sister. Uncle Alexei may have been the most dangerous Russian in New England, but he didn't scare me.

  Well, not enough to dictate my wardrobe. He'd much prefer his eldest niece to dress modestly, and only date pre-approved men from within the mob. Marry a nice Russian man - as though there were any nice men to be had in the bloodthirsty bowels of the Bratva. Anyone could tell you that just joining the Bratva put blood on your hands. As far as I knew, Sinner only looked like a bad boy. He might be squeaky clean compared to some of the guys my uncle had set me up with.