At Last
Brimstone Lords MC
Book Two
Sarah Zolton Arthur
At last
I met the one I dreamed for all along
When life had gone and done me wrong
My reward for stayin’ strong
At last
When you needed me I came through
In your darkest hour
Fate brought me home to you
I found a partner when none would take
A family to call my own
We held on when they thought we’d break
My flights of fancy, flown
I’m alive, not just livin’ thanks to you
The past remains the past
For all you’ve done I’ll shout to the heavens
That you’re with me at last
-At Last
At Last
Copyright © 2017 by Sarah Zolton Arthur
All rights reserved.
First Print Edition: December 2017
Irving House Press
P.O. Box 5738
Saginaw, MI. 48603
Formatting: Heather Young-Nichols
ISBN-13: 978-1978018891
ISBN-10: 1978018894
No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of the author’s rights. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to locales, events, business establishments, or actual persons—living or dead—is entirely coincidental.
1.
Dr. Brennan/ Caitlin
The curvaceous woman moans loudly, limbs wrapped around him. She rubs her indecently clad skin over most of his body, kissing on his chest and neck as they stand outside his club room while I pass them on my way to Elise’s. His hand on the knob pulling the door shut.
Their presence in the hall perfumes the air with alcohol, sex and really bad decisions.
No shirt, wearing only a leather vest exposing all his expanse of beautifully ripped chest dusted in dark hair and covered in tattoos. His arms. His chest. I’d bet any amount of money, his back too. All covered in tattoos.
Beyond the dusting of hair on his chest, he hadn’t bothered to button up his jeans. I swallow down the lump in my throat, embarrassed that I’m unable to tear my eyes away. Even more embarrassed that I stop moving altogether, to openly gawk at the man. But when I say he’s beautiful, I mean, He. Is. Beautiful. In that gruff, gritty, could kick your ass without breaking a sweat kind of way.
My eyes follow the line of course hair trailing down from his navel, a runway pointing to the root of what promises to be a long, thick good time. When I move my gaze back up, I find him glaring at me through heated eyes. Not the good heat, the lip licking, ‘I want you’ way which would work for me, as I clearly want him.
No, he looks on me with a something else kind of heat.
My lips part, and I feel myself beginning to sweat under his intensity. I clear my throat knowing I have to gain back control of the situation. So I ask, “Is Elise inside?” Pointing to her door two doors down.
He says nothing, just stares at me like I’m the dim kid in class.
Control, Caitlin. Get back the upper hand, I silently motivate myself. In order to do that, I train a condescending smile across my face, and raise one brow. Then I ask again, slowly and drawn out, “Is Elise in her room?”
His face turns harder than it had looked only seconds before, I’m sure not understanding the audacity of someone, especially a woman, speaking to him in such a manner. “Watch it,” he grumbles.
“Come on, Duke.” The woman hanging all over him, whines in a breathy, ‘just had great sex but I’m ready for more’ kind of voice. And that’s my cue to get the heck out of here.
“Never mind.” I wave him and his attention away. “I’m sure she is. Have a nice day.” Then I turn my attention from the man and force myself to walk like I’m not trying to escape which is especially hard pulling a plastic cart on wheels behind me. The cart keeps catching on my heels, causing me to wince each time because having a heavy cart attack my heels hurts.
I only give a light knock on Elise’s door. If the baby is sleeping, I don’t want to bother him yet. As I wait for her to answer, my back to him, the back of my neck burns from his stare. I feel it. He’s there, watching me.
And even if I didn’t feel him watching, I’d know it the way Elise pulls open the door and steps into the doorway. She glances at me briefly, but only briefly because her eyes dart over my shoulder and stick. A sort of half-smile smirk dusts across her face before she moves back out of the way.
“Hey Elise, how are you?” I ask as I move into her room.
Today I’m at the Brimstone Lords compound for Elise’s six week checkup, post baby Gunner’s delivery. Her husband is out on a run. That’s what the men call them, even though I know he and two other MC brothers are out searching for Livvy Baxter. They’re lucky, as in lucky to be alive, as she and Elise were unfortunate players in that crazy, murderous Houdini’s psychotic show. Bad business, that was. I got the details first hand, but even if I hadn’t, their stories were the top news stories all over the country.
“Good. Thanks for coming down,” she says in what I can only describe as a forced cheer. I’ve been coming around here for close to a year now, and Elise Hollister is usually quite open with me.
So I pause before replying, waiting to give her the opportunity to come clean on whatever has her troubled. She stays silent. On a sigh, I shake my head once and pick back up. “Not a problem. I know the drill. Any cramping? Started your period yet?”
“No cramping, and yes, period here and gone.”
While I look for a place to set down my purse, she hops up on the bed. Then I walk to her bathroom to wash my hands. “Good. That’s good. So how’s our boy been?” I call through the door left open, though not loud enough to startle the baby.
“Busy. Can’t wait for him to get home.” She giggles. At least that seems genuine.
“I meant the baby boy.”
“Beau can be quite the baby.”
Now we both giggle quietly as I can see the little bundle of joy wrapped up and sleeping soundly in a bassinet.
“Ugh.” I blow out an exasperated breath. “That’s all men.”
“Don’t I know it. I live in a biker compound.”
“So I’m going to check you first and then I’ll check Gun. Let him sleep a little longer.”
I turn around to the plastic bin on wheels that has all my equipment inside, unlatch the locks and flip the lid open. What I need is right on top.
Once I’ve pulled the portable stirrups out, I order Elise to strip down for me while I secure them to the side of the bed with clamps, then gesture for her to lay down. This is one of those naked appointments, as she calls them.
Her feet up in the stirrups, legs spread, bottom to the edge of the bed, the appointment is as comfortable as I can make it. Her body visibly tenses, as everyone’s does, when I don my gloves and lube her up. She shudders at the speculum. No one likes a cold, metal cylinder shoved up inside their lady bits. But as most of my female patients are, she’s a trooper.
She’s healed nicely and the insides look good.
After Elise is dressed, I hand her off a script for birth control as well as an already filled case. The woman needs to start them ASAP. When her biker husband gets home, after already having had to go six weeks without getting any, I know where his head—both his heads—will be at.
But neither Elise, Boss nor I want her preggers with baby num
ber two just yet. And from what Elise has shared, her man isn’t the best with condom usage.
“Any big plans tonight?” Elise asks while slipping her yoga pants back on, an innocent question, but it jars just the same.
Much to her chagrin, I have to wake the baby to check him out, too. He squirms and coos. Not the case at his last checkup where I neglected to blow on the stethoscope to warm the metal. Gunner wailed. A meltdown of epic-newborn proportions.
Boss looked ready to rip my head clean from my body. And it wasn’t because I made his son cry. It was because I made his son cry after we’d finally, finally gotten him to stop crying.
Two weeks straight of colicky baby crying, the new parents were about ready to crack. We’d nixed the breast milk, but had to figure out a formula which wouldn’t cause gas.
With too many choices, on about formula number five, we hit. So enter me and my stethoscope mishap. Despite a miserable boy, I miss the newborn stage.
Gunner is a happy baby now. Incredible what a change in diet did for his constitution. They’re doing a great job with him. Thus far he checks out completely healthy.
We leave her bedroom. She and a wide awake, wriggly Gun walk me through the common area, where the glutton for punishment that I am, looks for Duke again. The MCs president. I’ve known him as long as I’ve been coming here. As Elise’s doctor, at first. But being a family practitioner, I started caring for a few of the brothers as well.
But not Duke. He’s strong and charismatic. Personally, I think he’s so tough, he scares the illnesses away. And for some reason, he can’t stand the sight of me. He legitimately bristles whenever I come around. Then we end up snapping at each other or are reduced to speaking in sarcasms, like in the hallway earlier.
A damn shame because when he has those tattoos on display, and he’s in full MC President mode, exuding all that power and badass-ness, even though he’s normally not my type, lord help me… I’d put hand to forehead and swoon if I didn’t think Elise would want to know why. I’m not in the mind to give up that ditty of information about myself just yet, if ever.
She continues out into the paved courtyard with me, and we stop at the trunk of my Jeep Grand Cherokee. I flip the hatch door and begin to heft boxes inside. My Cherokee color is Cayenne, and it’s sexy as hell. I let Jade pick it, she liked that it matches our hair. When we moved to the mountains, I upgraded from our little sedan. I didn’t think a sedan would be safe on slick winter mountain roads.
“Caitlin,” Elise says to grab my attention. Oops. “Any big plans tonight?” she asks again, I assume, because she asks it with a bit of emphasis. I’ve been in Thornbriar for months and still haven’t managed to form any real friendships. Acquaintances, sure. Yet every night when I’m done doctoring, my butt is at home on my sofa watching television with my four-year-old. Most people don’t even know I have a daughter.
She’s at daycare during my office hours. I usually stop by the grocery store before I pick her up to avoid the inevitable “I want… I want… I want” in a preschooler’s whine. I love the girl but that gets annoying.
My little Jade, anyone who has seen her eyes knows why I gave her that name. It’s our extremely Irish heritage. She’s the spitting image of her mama. Both my parents were born over there. Jade had been born when I was living there taking care of my grandmother before she passed. Though, my little girl happens to be much more popular. She’s going to her first friend sleepover tonight. So no, no plans. A Friday night and I’ll be where I usually am.
“Nope,” I answer Elise. “My ass will be sitting on the couch watching the History Channel.”
“Why don’t you come hang? Trish is coming over with Sneak. Maryanne will be here too because Tommy is working and won’t be home ‘til late. We’re having a girl’s night in.” She pauses, then, “And I think Duke’ll be there, too. I mean, as an FYI.” Although her words sound benign, spoken in a casual tone, she keeps peering over my shoulder, out toward the gate and main road.
“Do I need to bring anything?” I ask, peering over my shoulder as well. When I turn back to look at her, she’s wearing a troubled face, I guess, which wipes any thoughts of ‘Duke being there’ out of my mind.
Though, she clears it quickly enough. From troubled to blank. “Just your cute face and an appetite for junk food and gossip,” she jokes. “The prospects have already done the shopping. There’ll be alcohol for those of us who can drink and fake-ohol for those who can’t. And we’re making our own pizzas.”
“Wow… um… sure. If you think it’ll be alright with the guys.”
“Please, you’d be doing them a favor, not having to keep me company.” She shifts Gun in her arms. “Most of them would prefer to be off getting laid.”
She just had to tell me that, right? Now I have images of sexy bikers getting laid, or rather one sexy biker, in particular, getting laid, sifting through my head. “Right. Then what time should I be back?”
“Seven is when the other girls are showing. Is that too late?”
“Sounds perfect to me.” I finish packing up my car and move to say goodbye to Elise and Gun when she grabs my elbow softly to stop me from leaving. “What’s up?” I ask.
“Nothing… uh… be careful, okay?”
That’s an odd sendoff, adding to her odd behavior out here. So I take advantage and ask, “Be careful of what?”
“It’s really probably nothing.”
“Let’s assume it’s something, what would that something be?”
Elise moves in closer and drops her voice. “When you come here do you, uh, do you ever get the feeling of being watched?”
What? “No. Not that I’ve paid attention. Have you?” It’s been less than a year since she’d been kidnapped by Houdini and buried alive. The choice came down to saving Elise or catching Houdini. Boss saved Elise. That means that psychopath is still out there somewhere.
“Well yeah. When I leave the compound and sometimes when I stand out here for too long. It’s just leftover anxiety, I’m sure.”
“Have you told Boss?” I ask.
“No,” she says way too quickly, almost a whispered shout, startling the baby. “He’d freak. He’d come back. He’d tell the other brothers.”
“Yes, but Elise.” I pause. My turn to lay a hand on her arm. “You were kidnapped. He needs to know.”
“Beau is off trying to find Liv. I want my friend found. And more than that, I want him home. We’ve spent so much time apart, I want my family back together. Under one roof. It’s selfish, I know. But if he comes home now, he’ll only have to leave again. Plus, I never leave the compound without a guard, so I’m cool, you know?” She tries to sound unaffected, but I can see through her façade.
I open my mouth to tell her what I think of that idea when she cuts me off. “Please don’t say anything.”
Do I agree to that when I don’t agree? But she’s my friend, I think. Or at least starting to be my friend. I can’t betray her trust, even if for a good reason. Letting out a slow breath, I decide on how to answer. “Okay, for now. But you need to tell him. If not for you, think of Gun.”
This answer seems to appease her, she smiles a genuine smile, even if it doesn’t reach her eyes. Then she nods and steps back. I take that as my cue to climb inside my car and actually leave.
A prospect stands out front by the fence, he pushes open the gate for me and shoots off a two-fingered salute as I pass through. This new crop of prospects is something to behold. If I were a few years younger and didn’t have a child, I’d work him like a stripper pole, not that I’ve ever worked a stripper pole. But I’d heard the saying numerous times from Elise and her friend Maryanne Doyle, and it seems apropos here. His small name patch, the one on the front of his vest stitched just above his heart, says Jesse. Though, I believe his mother did him a disservice with that name. She should have called him Eye Candy.
They must like him. Gate duty is pretty important, especially in their world. From the way Elise explained it, all
prospects start off doing the shit jobs that no one wants. Unclogging toilets, cleaning up vomit after a party, cleaning up after the party. Making a four a.m. food run when a member has a sweet tooth. They like you, trust your loyalty to the club and the brothers, they’ll move you up to the gates. From gates, it’s protection. You prove your grit, then you get patched in. There’s no timeframe.
You might be cleaning puke for two years, you might only be on the gate for a month.
The whole dynamic is pretty fascinating.
Jesse looks like he’d show a girl a good time. Too bad there’s only one man I’d honestly consider going biker for. And I have to remind myself that he can’t stand the sight of me. God, that gritty voice gets me every time. Not blood, but liquefied want courses through my veins. Pumping through my erratically beating heart. No other way to describe it.
Plus, and this is important, it has been so long since a man has done that to me. Not since Aiden, Jade’s daddy, left Jade sad and me broken hearted for a new life and a new woman he’d been talking to online in Australia.
What kind of man leaves his toddler daughter to move to another continent?
But we survived.
I hope Mr. Sexy Biker won’t be there tonight. Seems since I first took Elise on as a patient, I close my eyes and dammit if it isn’t him, those lines, probably from his years of smoking, surrounding a pair of gray, bordering on silver, eyes that stare back at me.
Apparently, I’m more obvious about my attraction to him than I mean to be. Usually Elise drops little tidbits of information about him when I’m at the compound and he’s around, trying to peak my interest. “He’s only like, thirty-eight years old. That’s a lot of good years left to uh, do whatever one might do with a man like Duke.” Or “He likes his pieces, but Duke hasn’t been in a relationship since his wife died. He’s very loyal.”
I actually never thought she’d try to coordinate a meetup where Duke and alcohol were involved. I mean what else could that FYI of hers mean?
At Last Page 1
