Hearts of Iron

by Day, Laura

  Josh nudged Lance and whispered, “We should be persuading him to take us to her. Not standing around like good little citizens. Bribe him with $30; that’ll do it.”

  Lance ignored him and looked around at the sick patients instead. Sickness made him uncomfortable, but at the same time it was like a road accident. You couldn’t help but look even though it made you want to hurl. He couldn’t be a doctor; he couldn’t help but develop a keen sense of his own mortality around the sick. He was nearing middle age. Some of those shuffling along with grey hair and papery skin were of the same age as him. That seemed way too close for comfort.

  “Hey Lance, who’s that?” Josh elbowed him, thankfully disturbing his melancholy thoughts. “Look, over there.”

  He followed Josh’s pointing finger down the corridor adjacent to them and spotted a short person—no, a woman—in a white coat. She appeared to be walking his way. Petite, her physical appearance conflicted with the way everyone followed her and listened as she spoke. This tiny woman was in total control each one of them, but the way she offered them an encouraging smile with every request, and thanked them when they offered her files and information, meant she was also no bully.

  He marveled that her staff clearly respected her; that they didn't just do what she said for fear of losing their jobs. He admired that.

  His father had been a proponent of ruling with fear. In fact, it was his father’s reputation, which had always ensured his own status in his club. And although he’d grown up an MC man, he wondered now and then, especially as he got older, whether he’d have chosen this life for himself. Sure, he lived to ride. Nothing would stop him doing that; even the best cage couldn’t tempt him to give up his Hog. And the brotherhood meant he’d never be completely alone. But it wasn’t enough.

  When he changed the club’s status, from a one percenter’s club to a legal one—well, mostly—he lost a few members and possibly some of the respect bestowed upon him by birth. But most of the club members remained, so he could live with that. There were a few who said they would only stay a year to give it a try, like Josh and a few elders, but if they got bored or got poor, then they'd leave. Again, he thanked them for being honest and hoped they’d stick around. Turns out, they did. So far, anyway.

  They stayed even though they had to get straight jobs. Many of them had to get jobs for the first time and didn’t like that idea one bit. But they got used to it. To help this transition run smoothly, Lance took money out of the club funds—all made from illegal means up until then— and built a body shop.

  Craig trained most of the guys to fix stuff. Bikes, mainly, but also assorted cages and the occasional domestic appliance. At first they didn’t get much work, but they undercut the smaller shop that was run as a front to peddle meth through. The dealers that ran it needed a little help getting the message, and Lance was happy provide it. Soon, the shop closed and meth faded from Miller, along with the dealers.

  Lance didn’t like drugs—never did. Plus, the creeps were cruising around playgrounds and other kids' hangouts looking for new users and recruits. They had no business staying in Miller.

  A few of the younger guys didn’t really take to being mechanics, so they got work in town behind the bar. The manager, Dan, appreciated a little muscle on his side of the bar to help out when trouble broke out. Lucian, a fifty-year-old bruiser up until this stage, suddenly discovered a love for cooking. After testing out a few recipes on his brothers Lance agreed another slice of their illegal gains would go toward refurbishing an old diner, and they soon opened up a gourmet burger joint.

  The locals were untrusting at first. Lance knew the club hadn’t been reformed long, so he couldn’t blame folks for assuming the worst of them. But he was determined to prove that the club was only in Miller to settle down and to make an honest living. He offered freebies and told the servers to wear a uniform, not their biker vests. Still, no one visited the restaurant apart from club members for at least six months. But eventually, a few older kids stopped by after school. They enjoyed the rock music playing in the background and liked that it stayed open until 10 at night. Their parents liked that they had somewhere to hang out without having to get drunk. Soon the older folks came, and slowly but surely, business started picking up.

  Everyone in the club still had to pay their dues, but they had to do so legally, and from the pooled money everyone got an equal wage every month. No one had more than anyone else. Of course, the pool was a lot smaller now things were legal, but they no longer had to fork any of it out for legal fees or bail bonds, so there was that.

  One thing Lance couldn’t change if he wanted to—and he wasn’t sure he did want to—was that new ladies were welcome to join their parties at least once, and if they proved themselves likeable and respectful, they could come again.

  His father would turn in his grave if he saw how he was running things these days. He would tell him to use their legit businesses as fronts for running this or that. But he’d finished with fear and intimidation unless in extreme circumstances. It was also nice not having to look over his shoulder or live on the road all the time.

  He was still focused on the little lady in a white coat that had folks running around with clipboards, hanging on her every word. If she led with respect, with a level of authority she’d clearly earned, so could he.

  Wait a minute; is she the Doc?

  Charlie interrupted Lance's thoughts. “There’s the Doc. See?” he pointed at the little lady. “Katie Brighton.”

  “Yeah, I see her,” Lance replied, his gaze unwavering as he rolled the name Katie around his head.

  “Think she's about to head into surgery.”

  “Uh-huh.” Lance stared at the empty space left behind as she stepped through a door and was now both excited and nervous about meeting Katie Brighton.

  Charlie cleared his throat. “Ahem.”

  “Yeah?”

  “They said she’s performing an emergency C-Section. Won’t be the first life she’s bought to Miller, and it won’t be the last.”

  “That’s real interesting and all,” Josh piped up. Lance had all but forgotten he was there. “But how long is she gonna take?”

  “Probably done by lunch time. One o’clock is my best guess. You could come back around then, or wait right here.” Charlie pointed to an isle of chairs right next to them. “Just please don’t make any trouble, even if you don’t start it. I know you guys are all right, but most folks think you’re devil walking on earth.”

  “Yeah, we know,” sighed Lance. “We'll behave.”

  “Don’t get me wrong, fellas. I mean, I know you guys ain’t like any of the other gangs that pass through here.”

  “That’s because we ain’t no gang,” Josh replied with a frown. “We’re Riders, and we ain’t passing through. We live here.”

  “Sorry, of course you do. And hey, my daughter’s car is all fixed up like new thanks to your shop and my wife said your burgers were the best she’d ever tasted when the bridge club visited your place a few weeks back. You’re doing good things as far as I can see. All I mean is, some folks don’t get it. They might start trouble for no good reason and we got no law ‘round here to stop it.”

  “Thanks, Charlie. We’ve lived this way a long time and know the deal. You should come down, bring your wife and daughter.” Lance clapped Charlie on the back. “I’m sure they’d love it.”

  “Well, it sounds real nice.”

  “It is." Lance sat down. "We’ll wait for the Doc.”

  “Shit Lance,” whined Josh again. “That means we gotta wait for hours.” He made a show of checking his watch.

  "Where else do you need to be?” He knew Josh liked the ladies, and as a young, good-looking guy, he always had a few on reserve. Seemed like he never stopped screwing, and it helped that he wasn’t picky.

  Charlie butted in. “Before I leave: You want coffee? Machine’s down that hall. Need a smoke? You gotta step outside, I’m afraid. Closest exit is the way you came
in, back up that way.”

  Josh pulled a face and huffed audibly.

  “Oh, go then, Josh. I got this.”

  Josh grinned, having gotten his own way again. But then his frown returned. “Wait? You’re just gonna stay here and wait?”

  “Yeah,” said Lance, determined to meet the little Doc though he realized she’d be more formidable an opponent than he’d imagined. “I’m cool with waiting."

  “See you, gentlemen. Pleasure meeting you,” said Charlie before strolling off on his rounds.

  Josh shrugged. “See you Charlie.”

  “Call us later,” Josh said, facing Lance. “Especially if you get any news we might wanna hear.” He winked and thumped Lance’s upper arm before he left.

  Lance sat down and stared at the door that Katie had walked through. He wanted to go in and see her in action. He imagined her performing with a slick professionalism and unlimited compassion. Something told Lance she'd be worth the wait.

  CHAPTER THREE

  When Katie successfully finished the emergency C-Section, and after the nurses cleaned the baby girl and laid her in her proud father’s arms, she left them to get to know each other while the mother slept. With a full heart, Katie sighed. Her job gave her such incredible moments, and for that she was grateful every day. But these moments were often bittersweet, because they made her wonder if she'd ever be the mother in the delivery unit, and not just the doctor bought in during emergencies. Would she give birth to a child while her husband held her hand and allowed the overflow of love at seeing his child take his first breath pour out, flowing freely with tears?

  Then she pushed the thought away.

  She didn’t much care for subjects which made her sad, and being single and childless in her early thirties was one such subject. Of course, she had a career she’d spent years studying for, but that wouldn’t stop her having a family with the right man. Nothing would. She had a lot of love in her heart and yearned to share it.

  Plus, she wasn’t a sad person; she was a sunny person. Everyone said so. She could “turn a cloudy day into a day on the beach,” they said of her in college. “Everyone’s best friend,” they said of her at medical school. Her father had called her “his little diamond” because she was precious to hi and also because she sparkled like no one else. She was too lucky to feel sad; she had no right. Katie had good friends and she had the very best career there was. And even though she got lonely, she reminded herself she also had years ahead of her to find the love of her life.

  She just hoped he would show up before she went through menopause.

  Her motto was: “It all works out in the end.” She stole it from her father and that motto got her though many a dark mood.

  As she inhaled deeply, depositing her scrubs into the appropriate bin, she looked up to find a very tall, sturdy-looking guy with long sandy hair and a full, pale beard sitting in the waiting area. He stood, and she noticed him staring right back at her. Even from where she was, she saw the most exquisite light-colored eyes she’d ever seen—they appeared ethereal from a distance.

  The urge to flee gripped her stomach when she suddenly imagined his reason for being there. From his tattoos and leather vest, he must be one of the biker club members and he was in her hospital, looking for her. He must be here to demand answers about her meeting, about whether she’d secured the employment of a sheriff for Miller. And if so, when such a sheriff might turn up.

  What could she tell them? “Yes I did, so you had better turn around and get outta town?”

  Trying to recall what people said about the club’s leader, she thought that perhaps the man looking directly at her might even be the Lance Brewer. The same Lance Brewer who came to town over a year ago and straightaway opened up a restaurant and an auto-repair shop. Katie suspected he’d only opened it as a front for something illegal. And how had he made the money to pay for those businesses in the first place?

  She heard how friendly he was, to the point that half the town was somehow conned into believing his club comprised of law-abiding, innocent, decent folks. She was no fool. Katie scoffed at such ideas.

  Law-abiding men didn’t beat up other men for having the same business as them just so they could dispose of the competition. Before they came along Miller had a perfectly good auto-repair shop owned by Peter Fibs, who inherited it from his dear old father. Peter ended up in her hospital with a broken arm and left town soon after he was discharged. Lance’s auto-repair shop had flourished ever since. Pete was raised in Miller. Not them. Why should he have to leave town so a stranger’s business could flourish?

  It’s just wrong!

  If this was Lance Brewer staring right at her, what would she tell him? Not the truth; not before the sheriff arrived to deal with his predictably destructive reaction to the news. No, if it was him—and who else would it be?—she would hold him off. Find some way to avoid answering his questions. Find some way of stalling him.

  The best way to do that is to avoid speaking to him altogether.

  Great plan, she thought, but while turning to make a casual dash in the opposite direction, she heard someone call out, "Hey Doc!”

  She froze, unable to ignore a potential patient. But when she turned around to find the too-handsome biker jogging toward her, she wished she’d carried on walking. Katie couldn’t quite take in his huge size. Robust from head to toe, hands to feet; he was a big boy. “Been waiting on you for over an hour. My partner left already. Don’t go disappearing on me too.”

  She pulled her gaze from his sheer bulk to focus her attention on him properly, a fake surprise in place. “Oh really? You have? Sorry, although…” she scoffed. “I can’t imagine what we’d have to talk about, you and I. Are you… ill?” She could see all too well that he was the image of virility and health; he had no need of a doctor. “You should see one of the nurses. They can down your details before...”

  He stepped closer. So close, his heat radiated out and touched her. “I think you know who I am, Doc. Let’s not waste each other’s time.” He half smiled, casually resting his weight on one leg, thumbs hooked in his jeans pockets.

  “No.” She almost coughed out the word. “I don’t think I do know who you are. Should I?”

  “Okay, let’s do this.” He took Katie’s hand, which got lost in his, and shook it firmly while placing the other hand on her elbow in a territorial manner. The way men shook another man’s hand. “I’m Lance Brewer, and I know that rings a bell.” He winked. “And you are…?”

  Swoon! “Err, hello, Lance. Yes, it ‘rings a bell’.” She smiled awkwardly, trying hard not to be overwhelmed by his sheer size and radiating sexuality. “I’m Doctor Katie Brighton,” she asserted, standing square and tapping him on the upper arm, which required a reach for her, as she shook his hand right back. “But you knew that.”

  “Of course.”

  It was difficult enough to assert oneself physically as a woman, but as a petite woman it was almost impossible. Still, she always tried. Katie had worked hard for her status and, as Janice said, she had earned a level of respect from people. Besides, being assertive saved time and prevented people from talking down to her. “So Lance, what can I do for you?”

  He looked behind her at the clock on the wall. “Guess it’s lunchtime. Fancy a burger? I know a great—”

  “Err.” She raised her hand. “I don’t eat burgers. I’m going to just grab a coffee in the canteen.”

  “Lead the way, Doc. I got no clue where the canteen is but I wouldn’t mind a coffee, either.”

  Katie’s mouth dried. “Of course.” Damn, go to your burger bar and leave me alone. “Follow me.”

  Leading the way to the staff canteen, she told herself to remain composed. She told herself that a handsome face, sultry eyes, and soft fair hair do not make a good man—neither does a big, hard body. And besides, this cute guy would most likely turn furious and scary as hell once he found out what she’d done. She would not to let her guard down for even a second
.

  What she refused to tell herself, however, was that the smile forming at the corners of her mouth and the sway of her hips had everything to do with Lance Brewer—a big, bad boy who was sexy as hell.

  ***

  Lance followed the cute Doc all the way to the canteen and was careful to walk tall, shoulders back, spine straight. He knew his ink and biker status suggested he was trouble, but so long as folks stayed out of his way, they would be just fine. His brothers had proven themselves to be reliable businessmen who provided great service for a fair price. Yet one half of the town would still cross the road to avoid them. So what if those businesses were built on ill-gotten gains? They were legit now and that’s all that should matter to folks in Miller. Including this strangely sexy, stuck-up Doc.

  Still, whenever he’d heard about the busy-body plotting against him to bring in people who would run him and his kind out of town, he’d imagined some dowdy, old, cat-loving spinster. Not a honey like her. But he could see straight off that the doctor looked down on him in spite of being almost two feet shorter. No matter how much his club had accomplished over their first year in Miller, some folks just refused to crawl out from beneath their own ignorance.