The Hitchhiker

by Kathy Coopmans

  “What fucking day is it?” I wince, the raw pain slicing through every part of my body.

  “Holy shit,” Caitlin squeals, my body locking up. My stomach clenching. “Rachel, please go tell them he’s awake. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.” She speaks in a hushed whisper, softer this time.

  Her sweet lips are all over my face, kissing me passionately. I reach up with my arm to run my finger down the healing cut on her face. It causes an immediate pain to thunder in my abdomen, but the feel of her skin on mine dulls it.

  “It’s…um, shit I don’t know what day it is. You’ve been out for almost two weeks.”

  “Need your sweet ass up here.” The hint of my signature growl makes it back to my voice.

  “Baby”—she cradles my face—“you’re hurt and have so many tubes and shit going everywhere.”

  “I said, get your sweet fucking ass up here now.”

  Caitlin listens this time, moving carefully until she’s nestled into my side.

  “Don’t quit touching me,” I demand.

  “Never. I was so scared.” She runs her fingers through my beard. “I need you.”

  “Need to be inside of you to wash that shit away.”

  She leans up enough to peer down at me. “Don’t. We can’t take steps backward. We have to move forward together. We can heal each other.”

  “Welcome back, Mr. Kensington.” A woman wearing scrubs saunters in, followed by Rachel.

  I’m about ready to tell her there ain’t no Mr. Kensington in this room when I feel a slight pinch on my arm. I glance up at Caitlin. Her smirking emeralds are telling me to keep my mouth shut. It all clicks into place. Regardless of the fact that my identity needs to remain hidden, I am going to kick the shit out of Zeke Hartley, otherwise known as Doctor Hot Pants or whatever the hell she calls him, for giving me a name that’s as bad as Winslow.

  “You can call him Oliver. He’s not fond of his last name.” Caitlin bites back a smile, enjoying herself way too much. “He really likes it when I call him Ollie.”

  I’m going to spank her ass bright red the first chance I get. This shit is far from funny.

  “Well, Oliver. I’m Doctor Montague. I removed the bullet from your abdomen. I’ve gone over everything with your wife Nadine here, but if you’re up to it, I would like to discuss some things with you. Explain what I did and talk to you about your road to recovery.” She grabs a metal object from the end of my bed.

  I can’t help it. I start to laugh only to stop after the first wave of nausea strikes with a harsh force.

  “Ollie, baby. What’s so funny?”

  You are, my eyes tell her. This whole damn scene is fucking hilarious. Wife.

  “Nothing, my sweet Nadine. Nothing at all.”

  24

  Caitlin

  “Damn it, Katch.” I’m going to knock him upside his head if he doesn’t quit trying to sit up on his own. He’s restless, bored, and bitching about everything from the IV in his arm to the drugs they give him.

  I’m tired of staring out the window at a parking lot. Tired of not sleeping in the big, comfortable bed at home. Beyond ready to have my strong man back, bossing my ass around like he owns me. I need to be owned by him.

  Even though I’m paying out my ass for this private hospital room that’s more like a fancy hotel suite, I’m still losing my mind, and him thinking he can climb out of bed and walk to the bathroom on his own frays my nerves.

  After he woke up three days ago and heard the extent of his injuries, he’s been in a foul mood. He enjoyed a good laugh when I called him by his adorable nickname, Ollie, and grinned like a fool at the announcement of me being his wife. When the doctor left the room, he palmed my ass and told me he was going to Nadine my pussy until I passed out when we got home. That happy moment dissipated rapidly, and now he’s pissed off worse than I’ve ever seen him.

  “You going to tell me that you wouldn’t be trying to sit up on your own? Whatever they have running through my veins has me pissing every half hour. These fucks in here tell me I need to rest. How the hell can I with that shit pumping straight into my veins?” He points to one of the bags hanging from his IV stand.

  “I can ask them to put the catheter back in?” I smile.

  “You do that, and we’re getting a divorce.” He swings his legs off to the side, pushes himself up, and cowers me back in my chair when I go to stand up to help him.

  “I’m taking the cars if we get divorced,” I say as I tilt my head to get a better glimpse at his ass and the tattoos that cover his entire back.

  He bitched about wearing a hospital gown, so now the stubborn man that he is goes around naked as the day he was born, because the doctors refuse to let him wear anything that might put pressure on his incision.

  “Shut up, Hollywood, and quit staring at my ass.” He slams the door, and I giggle, briefly. The thought of truly being his wife has weighed on my mind ever since Zeke came into his office and told me he had to give the hospital a fake name and for me to pretend I was Katch’s wife. It was the only way I was going to be able to stay with him and stay in the know on his condition.

  I would love nothing more than to get rid of my last name. Winslow is a poisonous name that holds a curse. It’s tainted with so much evil, blood, and heartache that I cringe every time I think about everything Clarence has done. Drugs, murder, corruption, and the list goes on and on into a vortex of evil.

  I was led to believe I was a part of him, that his blood coursed through my veins. That his flesh was my own and I would walk in his footsteps the rest of my life.

  “What the hell?”

  I was so lost in my thoughts that I never heard him come out of the bathroom.

  “I’m fine,” I say, wipe the tears from my face I never knew had fallen, and stand to help him back into bed.

  “Bullshit. Talk to me. Is it about your mom? ‘Cause if it is, you know how I feel. You need to talk to her.”

  “I know,” I tell him as I pull the covers over his legs, hesitating before tugging it over that beautiful cock that I want so bad my thighs quiver.

  “Lock the door?”

  “What? No! You are not getting it, Katch. I don’t care how tough you think you are. They removed your spleen and repaired your liver. You almost died on me. No way, big guy.”

  “I still have the use of my fingers. Now, lock the damn door, Hollywood.” He grips my arm, his eyes full of mischief.

  “Well, then, when you put it that way.” I jerk my arm free. Make my way to the door and twist the lock.

  “Strip,” he commands.

  Oh, God. Bossy Katch is back. I glance up at the clock, because I know Curtis, Brick, and a few of the other guys are on their way here to chat. I’ve already been warned that I will be kicked out of the room. Club business and all, no women allowed in. I’m pissed about the fact of being kicked out of the room. Besides quick showers, I’ve been by his side every single second of the day.

  I make my way back, stopping just out of his reach. My fingers grip the hem of my shirt, pull it up over my stomach and head, slowly. I do the same with the waistband of my leggings, slowly shimmy them down my legs and kick them to the side.

  “Fuck me,” he growls, reaching out for me.

  “I can’t wait to let you fuck me, trust me,” I say, unclasp my bra and let it fall to the floor. I’m naked. My body and soul bared to him.

  “Get over here, Caitlin. Now,” he growls. Eyes dark. Tongue darting out to lick his lips.

  “Katch.”

  “Shut up, Hollywood, and spread those legs. Your pussy needs attention, and I’m giving it what it needs.”

  I do as I’m told, because well, it’s Katch, and even though there is nothing better than the feeling of his dick deep inside of me, the man can do wonders with his fingers.

  “Your pussy is pulsing,” he says.

  He drags one digit through my wet heat. My legs start to shake. It’s going to take everything I have not to lose the str
ength in those limbs and crash to the floor.

  “I want you so bad I ache,” I tell him.

  “Feeling’s mutual, Hollywood. We ain’t coming out of our room for days once I’m outta here.”

  “Sounds like the perfect plan,” I mutter.

  “Not another word. Eyes on me and feel me fucking you with my fingers. Tighten that pussy and grind down on me until you fucking break apart. I want a taste of you, baby. A big fucking taste.”

  I moan when he slips a finger inside of me. Excitement rushes to where he starts pumping in and out of me.

  “Your pussy needed this, didn’t it? It’s soaking up the attention. You want more?” He doesn’t wait for my answer. He slowly shifts his body, lifts his other arm, and begins to play with my clit while another finger joins the first one. My greedy body is taking them both.

  “Goddamn, most beautiful sight I’ve seen in my life. You standing here naked in front of me while I do you right. You gonna come for me?”

  I nod my head, my body on fire. The need to release shoots through my veins like a rocket. Katch starts thrusting his fingers inside of me harder, faster, and deeper. His thumb is playing my clit like a well-tuned instrument. His eyes are telling me to fall, and no matter if he’s lying in this bed or not, he promises to catch me. I come so hard that my entire body trembles until I’m sated, fulfilled, happy, and blinded with something so pure in my life instead of evil. I feel another layer of shame for who I used to be peel away, revealing the woman I really am.

  Katch reluctantly pulls his fingers out of me. I watch him lick each one off and then hum in approval.

  “Come sit on my face,” he demands.

  I lean over with no intention of caving in to him. “You are torturing me here, baby. I want your tongue to fuck me in the worst way, but I’m not going to ride your face in a hospital bed.”

  He quirks an eyebrow with an elusive smile dancing on his face. “You know you like beard bounces.”

  He lazily strokes his beard, doing his best to taunt me. I give in just a bit, kissing his lips, soaking up my taste off him. When my core heats and pools, I know it’s time to step back and gather up my clothes. I flip the lock on the main door before going into the bathroom. When I shut the door, I hear Katch grumble.

  “This is fucking hell.”

  Then the sound of his fist crashing into the table next to his bed echoes around the room. I dress quickly and by the time I’m running my fingers through my hair, I hear Curtis’s voice out in the room. Thank God I’m behind a closed door.

  “Looking good, pussy,” Curtis says.

  I step out to see the men surrounding Katch’s bed. It makes me smile and warms my heart to know even though Katch isn’t a patched brother, they’ll always take care of him.

  “Hey.” I push through Brick and Snake to get to my man. I kiss him quickly and whisper in his ear.

  “I love you, big guy.” I pat his chest and turn to go, but he grabs my arms and yanks me down to him.

  “You go talk this shit through with your mom. You get me?” I get him. Not happy that he’s springing this on me in front of everyone, though.

  “Right, my Dad, too?” I say, my words meaning a whole hell of a lot.

  “All of it. You talk to them both, Caitlin. And lose the attitude about the contents of that envelope before you get back here. As smart as you are, you know it wasn’t mine nor Curtis’s place to tell you.” I jerk free, tears stinging my eyes, and exit before the burly assholes threaten to kick me out.

  I know their game and can follow the rules, but no way in hell will they boss me around like Katch just did. He knows damn well that I don’t take well to being bossed around. Asshole.

  25

  Caitlin

  The hallway is bustling like usual with nurses and doctors walking with their heads straightforward as if they are on a mission. I hit the button to take the elevator down to the cafeteria, cross my arms over my chest, and stew over what Katch asked me to do.

  “I’m eating first,” I mutter to myself, step inside and watch my reflection when the steel doors close. I look happy, in spite of thinking about clearing things up with my mother.

  I pay for a bagel and cream cheese with a large coffee, find a table in the far corner, and stretch my legs in front of me when I sit down.

  Even though Katch’s room feels like it’s shrinking in on me each day and we both are about to go batshit crazy, it seems to dull my racing mind. In moments like these, when I’m away from him, my worries take over, controlling my breathing, nerves, and anxiety. They flow into overdrive. The more I fight back, the worse it gets.

  “Mind if I join you?”

  I look up to see Doctor Hot Pants staring down at me with his whiskey-colored eyes and messy black hair. Looks like he hasn’t seen a bed in a few days. There’s stubble on his jaw and the forming of black lines under his eyes.

  “Not much company here, but knock yourself out.” I finish spreading the cream cheese on my bagel. Then I take a bite.

  “Just what I need.” He settles across from me and begins devouring his food.

  “I hear you’re quite the entertainment fixture with the nurses.”

  He nods, chuckles, and his next words are brash at best. “Yeah, I’m tired, and so is my dick.”

  I nearly choke on a bite of the bagel. It’s not the way a doctor would talk to a loved one of one of his patients, but then again, he probably doesn’t make up fake names for many. Watching him eat, I notice the resemblance between him and Brick. It’s barely there, just enough to tell they’re related.

  Where Brick is rugged and raw, this man is refined, educated, and gorgeous. Zeke more than likely runs a few miles daily on a treadmill to keep his fit physique, whereas Brick is all about manual labor and his brothers.

  The tie must be strong, since the men survive in two completely different worlds yet protect each other. That phenomenal bond has my stomach flipping in anxiety. I’ll never know what that feels like to bond with a sibling. If I were a woman cut out to be a mother, I would definitely have more than one child. On the other hand, my children would be loved unconditionally by both parents. He or she wouldn’t be lonely. Confined and living in a world of self-hatred.

  Zeke’s fork clatters to his tray, making me jump and lose focus on a topic my mind shouldn’t be thinking about anyway. “A lot on your mind?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You don’t know me well, but I can tell you that you’re good people.” He props up his elbows on the table, not breaking eye contact. “I’ve heard bits and pieces of the shit that’s gone down. It’s fucked up.”

  I shrug. “Seems fucked up is my middle name these days.”

  “We all have our demons that keep us up at night.”

  “So, you’re a fucking head shrink, too?”

  He chuckles. “Nah, just not wanting to deal with the own shit in my life. Easier to try and fix others.”

  “I get it. You are a doctor.”

  His face falls, growing sad. “Some pretty fucked-up shit came into the ER tonight. Sorry, focusing on you is easier.”

  “And dropping the F-bomb and being unprofessional is probably a good outlet, too.” I smile at him.

  “Yeah.” He shudders.

  I can’t even begin to imagine what has him twisted in knots. The man was elbow-deep in blood, saving Katch on his kitchen floor a few weeks ago without flinching. So whatever has him recoiling must be pretty deep.

  “Thanks for the seat.” He rises when he’s paged over the hospital intercom system. “Let me know if you ever need anything, Nadine.” He winks and disappears down the long hallway, and even though the man is strong, his gait full of a stature of respect, something has him rattled.

  “Caitlin.” I look over to see my mother and Trent walking toward me side by side. God, this is the best I’ve seen her look. “May I?” she asks.

  “Sure.” I sit up in my chair, knowing the time has come.

  “I’ll be over there.”
Trent points to the other side of the room

  “No. I’d appreciate if you stayed. It’s time to get the air cleared,” I politely say.

  He sits without speaking a word. I’d always thought I was a miniature version of my mother growing up. Her beauty was mine. Her grace flowed through me until the day she was ripped from me, but staring at Trent now, I am more his daughter than hers.

  Our eyes are mirrors of each other's, his nose mine, and our dark, wavy hair the same.

  “I understand everything that happened…” my mother tries to speak, but I cut her off instantly.

  “It’s my turn to talk. You can listen or leave.” It hurts being this harsh with her, but the copious amounts of pain my heart has and still is processing are undeniable. I refuse to keep breaking down and letting the tears attack when I have a bright future ahead of me.

  “I’m hurting. I’m not sure anyone can even begin to understand the pain unless they’ve been lied to their entire life. I’m not even addressing the life I was pushed into because the choice was made to lie. It doesn’t matter the wrongs and crimes committed in that life weren’t mine. It’s what I was made to believe was me. My genetics, blood, heart, and soul, all of it, dedicated to the Winslow last name, but it was all a lie.”

  I pause a beat to keep the tears back. This needs to be spoken, and I refuse to let emotions take over.

  “I love you, Mom. I’ll never stop loving you. You’re my mother, and there were times in my life when I needed you so bad I didn’t know how I would make it through the day. But then I would hear your voice; you would tell me to get up, to put one foot in front of the other, and together we could tackle whatever obstacle had brought me down. I look at you right now and still can’t believe that after everything you have been through, you survived. I know there’re more things those men said and did to you than you are willing to share. I survived my hell because of you. I need you in my life forever.” I pause to take a deep breath through my nose. They are both sitting there quietly, attentive, and for the first time in my life, I have both of my parents listening to me. No judgment is striking back at me. No harsh words are telling me to pull my shit together. That weakness isn’t something a Winslow shows in public. They are simply taking everything I say to heart. “Trent, I’d like to get to know you as well. With all of that being said, I still need time to digest everything. My skin crawls, and the anxiety threatens to wreck me daily with the thought of knowing I wasn’t his real daughter. Parts of me are grateful those invisible bonds have been broken, while others remain sick and twisted knowing all the years that were stolen from me, from you, from us. It leaves me with a choice to make. Do I roll back into the cutthroat attorney, move back to L.A., and pretend this was all a dream, or do I embrace my new life? If you have to ask which I’m choosing, then neither of you deserve a place in my life.”