by Debra Kayn
"When will the club let me get out of here?" asked Rod.
Swiss shrugged. "When you're strong enough to hold up your Harley."
"Fuck," muttered Rod. It'd be days until his stomach could even handle taking a shower, getting dressed, and walking to the curb.
Swiss stepped closer. "Listen, man. I get what you're going through and even more, I want you out of my daughter's bed but Heather has it in her head to take care of you, and that puts you under my care. If you have any idea who came after you, I want to know."
"I don't know."
Swiss's hands curled into fists. "If you figure it out have Heather call me. I'll take it to the club."
Rod nodded.
"Get some rest." Swiss walked out of the room.
His shoulders sagged forward, and he closed his eyes, relief overcoming him as he finally succumbed to his body's cry to give up rather than fight to get answers. Memories of the attack invaded logic. Ronacks had enemies, but none they weren't prepared for and had prior knowledge of.
Heather entered the room quietly. "Everyone is gone."
He tilted his head and glanced at her. His heart lurched. There were more important things he needed to do before he found out who almost killed him.
"Let me help you back onto the bed, and you can sleep," said Heather softly.
He leaned toward her voice, wanting her never to stop talking. To stay with him and tell him everything her eyes teased him about and her body wanted from him was true and not something he fucking dreamed while he was unconscious. Most of all, he wanted her softness and her hand on his head, reminding him she still cared.
He held his breath and tightened his stomach muscles as his body went horizontal. The second his head hit the pillow, his body loosened. Fuck, yeah.
He grasped her wrist, keeping his eyes closed. "Stay with me."
"I will," she whispered, sitting on the edge of the bed.
Good. Once he got stronger, he'd leave. Then, he'd be able to protect her.
Chapter Nine
The rumble of two motorcycles rolling past the duplex woke Heather. She opened her eyes and stared up at the white ceiling of her bedroom. The fingers wrapped around her hand tightened.
Sometime during the night, either she reached out to Rod or he had held on to her.
She lay perfectly still. Her days and nights merged over the last week.
Exhausted and stressed, she'd started taking naps as an excuse to stay at Rod's side. His refusal to talk about the attack, about what he was thinking, about what was happening outside the duplex worried her.
She reached her free hand out on the mattress and found her cell phone. Pushing the button, she squinted against the light coming off the screen and checked the time.
7:20 a.m.
Her father would be coming over to check on Rod in forty minutes before he left to go to work at one of the club's security detail jobs. Heather relaxed her hand and scooted away from Rod and his hand clamped down on hers.
"I didn't mean to wake you," she whispered, squeezing his hand to assure him she was right beside him.
"Stay," he said.
His voice a mix of deep baritone seasoned by a lifestyle of pushing his authority as the Vice President of Ronacks Motorcycle Club covered her in warmth.
"How are you feeling?" she asked, turning her head toward him.
Over the days, his whiskered jaw had become a darker beard. The lines at the corner of his eyes had deepened until she started to believe she'd never see him smile again or enjoy the unmasked amusement he would often give her at the bar. There was nothing that brought him joy since the attack. Not even her.
"Better." He lifted her hand and kissed the back of her knuckles. The first sign of affection from him she'd received since bringing him home almost undid her.
She sucked in a breath and whispered, "That's good to hear. It's probably helping that you're eating more the last several days. Dad said you could get your stitches out today if you haven't pulled the wound apart."
Rod rolled toward her with a grunt and cupped her head. "Thank you."
"For what?" She pressed her head into his palm and inhaled deeply, soaking up the change of attitude from him.
Her energy took a boost at Rod showing an urge to touch her. Her stomach warmed. She could've lost him, and instead he'd survived and recovered.
"For taking care of me. I know I've been an asshole." He stroked his thumb down her forehead, between her eyes, and along the length of her nose. "I'm going home today."
"Well, we'll see if my dad agrees." She studied the determination etched in Rod's forehead. "It'd be better if you took a few more days to get your strength back. You're only now walking around and eating better. It'll take a while to bounce back to normal. You lost so much blood and—"
"Heather."
She sat up at the sternness in his voice. "What aren't you telling me?"
Rod's mouth thinned and he pushed himself into a sitting position and stood beside the bed.
His hard, strong body belied the pain he lived through during his recovery. She grabbed his pillow and hugged the cushion to her middle. More than the wound, whatever emotional baggage he held from the attack, had changed him.
"I just need to get out of here and be at home where I can help figure out who wanted to kill me." He leaned against the bed to bend over and slip his jeans up his long, sturdy legs. "While I'm busy, I want you to stay close to Swiss. Make sure he's with you when you go back to work. Don't try to drive home without an escort."
Her heart pounded, and her chest fluttered. Use to people walking out of her life, her experience had her jumping to conclusions.
She swallowed and forced herself to laugh. "You almost sound like I'm never going to see you again."
Rod zipped up his jeans and looked away from her. "Shit has changed, Heather."
She tossed the pillow to the side and stood. A chill swept through her pair of sweats she'd slept in. "But, you'll come to the bar, right?"
"Eventually." He sat down on the edge of the bed and gave her his back. "Maybe."
"Maybe?" She walked around the large bed and faced him. "Don't joke, Rod. You're going to feel better every day you rest and take care of yourself. In a couple weeks, you'll be back—"
"It's best if I don't see you or get involved," said Rod.
"You don't...?" She shook her head. "Where's this coming from?"
Rod ran his hand over his ribs. "Look. I never asked you to let me stay here."
"Okay. And?"
Rod stepped over to his bag, removed a pair of socks, and sighed. "I appreciate that you took care of me, but I'm better. I'm going home, and you're going back to work."
She caught her mouth from opening in shock, clamped her teeth together, and swallowed the lump of emotion choking her. "Okay. I'll text my dad and let him know you're ready. He can figure out how to get you away from me, and you can go back to your life."
Unable to look at him any longer without begging him to stay or at least look forward to seeing him every night like they'd been doing, she picked up her phone, grabbed her clothes out of the dresser, and squeezed past him out of the room, and locked herself in the bathroom.
She texted her dad before she changed her mind. Rod's up and ready.
Then, she got dressed for her day because that was the only way to keep her heart from breaking. She never allowed anyone to get close to her. She'd learned her lesson many times over through the years not to rely on others or become dependent on them to stay in her life. Why she thought Rod would stay was an idiot move on her part.
A knock interrupted her self-lecture. She strolled out of the bathroom and opened the front door to her dad. Sweeping her hand out to the side of her, she stepped back. "He's in the bedroom."
Her dad hesitated and squinted at her. "What's wrong?"
She shook her head. "Nothing."
"Sure?"
"Yep." She closed the door. "Rod's ready to go home, and I need to get back to working. Wi
ll there be someone around to escort me at one o'clock this afternoon?"
"I can." Her dad ran his tongue over his teeth before going into the bedroom.
Leaving her dad to deal with Rod alone, she made a pot of coffee, knowing she'd be the only one drinking any. If Rod wanted to go all He-man and believe he was well enough to stay by himself, he could make himself coffee at his place.
She tapped her fingernails against the counter. Rod was fine to live on his own now. He'd recovered enough to see to his basic needs and move around freely. She no longer worried about him passing out or needing help to sit up.
Then, why was she hurt that he'd asked her to stay away from him?
He'd came to her all those nights to sit in a bar and flirt with her. He'd smoothed over her misplaced anger when she'd decked him when he'd surprised her with an armed escort to meet her dad after twenty-two years. He'd planned to have sex with her and had her believing a relationship with him wasn't because he drank too much or he had a scratch to itch.
She'd gotten to know him and liked the man he gave her. Whether that was in friendship or verged on being more no longer matter. She was better off without him.
If he left now, she wouldn't have to deal with him leaving later and it hurting more.
The coffee pot stopped gurgling. She poured a cup of straight black coffee and carried her mug to the couch. Halfway through her morning habit, she'd hardened herself enough not to care where Rod went.
Chapter Ten
A black mound on the front porch of Rod's shook and became twice the original size. He ran his hands along the thigh of his jeans as Swiss's Mercedes came to a stop in the driveway. At least his dog was alive and well.
"JayJay, Teek, and Choke are staked out close." Swiss shut off the engine. "Battery brought over some food earlier and put in your fridge."
"Appreciate it," said Rod. "I need a ride to get my bike tomorrow."
"One of the prospects will bring it around later for you. There's no reason to push yourself yet." Swiss let his hand drop from the steering wheel. "You need any help to get settled?"
"Nah. I'm good." Rod opened the door and using the frame of the car, pulled himself to his feet. Any movement that required tightening his abdomen continued to take his breath away.
Rod turned around, leaned over, and peered at Swiss. "Do me a favor and check in on Heather later."
Swiss's mouth hardened. "Does she have a reason for me to be checking in on her?"
The tension between him and Swiss thickened. For weeks, he'd wanted to believe the strain in their relationship was his imagination, his guilt for having feelings for Swiss's daughter, but he could no longer deny Swiss wasn't happy he'd gotten close with Heather. He'd never broken his word as a Ronacks member to hold the utmost respect for the families of his MC brothers. It was one of the reasons he hadn't fucked Heather when he'd first met her.
"She's exhausted." Rod moistened his lips. "Taking care of me wore her out."
Swiss dipped his chin. "I'll take care of her."
He knocked on the roof of the car in thanks and walked toward the house. His dog ran out to meet him in the middle of the yard, and he reached down despite the pull through his body to straighten and escape the pain it took to ruffle the dog's ear.
"How you doing, Girl?" he said with the first hint of normalcy in over a week. "Missed me, huh? Are you glad I'm home?"
The dog jumped in her own uncoordinated way, bumping into his leg. He grunted, staggered against the jolt on his body, and reached into his pocket for the key to the house. Damn, he'd missed his dog.
Four years ago, Girl showed up like an ugly prostitute desperate and scared. Eventually, between Swiss and him, they'd fed her until she lost the ribs poking through her black fur, and the dog stayed.
He named her Girl because he couldn't think of anything else to name a dog. Her ass wiggled one way, and her extra-large tongue upset her balance. Afraid of everyone else—humans and animals alike—his dog owned him. Loyal to a fault and protective of the house. He couldn’t ask for more from her.
"Let's go in and make sure Mel's been feeding you right." He walked into the house and shut the door. Before the alarm could go off, he keyed in the code to reset the security.
Girl's toenails tapped over the wooden floor. Rod picked up the television remote and turned on the TV for background noise. Silence annoyed him.
In the kitchen, he filled up the dog bowl with fresh water. Girl went to town eating out of the food bowl as if she'd waited for him to get home before taking care of herself. Rod wiped the sweat of his forehead from the excursion of being on his feet all morning and headed toward the couch.
He eased himself down on the cushions and let his upper body fall back. The instant relief from the tension easing in his stomach set a yawn off. A groan of tiredness came from deep in his soul.
How the fuck had he gotten himself into the current situation?
Used to taking a backseat to the dangers that came at the club, he'd earned his position within Ronacks which gave him more protection than everyone else in the MC, except the president. He'd surrounded himself with men who'd die for him. The attack never should've happened.
Everything went to shit because he'd gotten lazy and let himself fill his head with thoughts of Heather. One fucking night set him back to the beginning.
He'd almost been killed, and he had no idea where to go from here.
Girl sat at his feet and laid her nose on his knee, looking up at him in concern. He laid his hand on Girl's neck and scratched her sweet spot behind her ear. Regrets piled on his shoulders, he could at least begin to fight now that he was on his own.
Heather was safe with her family.
The club could go back to working.
And, he'd get stronger and then find the fucker who tried to take his life.
"That's what I need to do, Girl. You with me?" he mumbled. "You'll stick by me, huh?"
Girl stood and rushed to the front door whining. Rod tilted his head. Any noise coming from outside was lost behind the dog's barking.
"Sh. Good, Girl," he whispered, leaning over and removing his pistol from his ankle holster. "Quiet now."
The dog sat by the door silently. Rod stepped lightly over to the window and peeked outside. His finger relaxed on the trigger. He punched in the security code and opened the door.
Swiss stood in front of him, having the keycode to the gate to come and go. Girl whined and ran to the back of the house. Probably straight to Rod's spare bedroom to hide under the bed.
"You can't be checking up on me already," said Rod. "You didn't even have time to get to work."
Swiss thrust out his hand. "Heather found your phone in the bedroom after you left. She thought you might need it."
He took his cell. "Thanks."
Swiss backed up a step. "Better haul your ass to bed before you fall down."
His long-time MC brother strolled away. Never a talker, Swiss kept his distance more than normal since the attack. He'd gone through the motions and protected the duplex, but something was bothering Swiss that went beyond concern over his daughter's safety.
"Hey." Rod straightened in the doorway.
Swiss turned back around. Rod stepped outside.
"Heather took me in, and I appreciate what she's done, but I made it clear I wanted nothing to do with her," said Rod.
"Why?"
Rod never hesitated. "Out of respect for you and Ronacks."
That much was true. He had to catch a man who tried to kill him first before he could think of Heather again.
Swiss nodded and walked the rest of the way to his Harley. Rod waited until Swiss rode out of sight, then secured the house and lumbered back to the couch. The abuse of doing too much, too soon, caught up with him. He laid down and forced his body to relax.
Girl showed up beside the couch, rubbed against his arm, and settled on the floor. Rod closed his eyes. He could lie to himself and Swiss about his feelings toward Heather, and
nothing would change.
Girl whined. He let his arm fall off the edge of the couch and sunk his fingers into her fur.
"I'm in a hell of a mess." He patted the dog's side. "Laying here, feeling like shit, and talking to my dog. I think I've reached a new low, Girl. What do you think of that?"
Girl barked.
"Yeah, I agree. It sucks."
Chapter Eleven
Raelyn closed the cash register and pocketed the key. Heather eyed the bag of cash on top of the counter and tossed the dirty rag she'd used to wipe down all the tables into the hamper under the bar. Saturday nights were always busy but her last four hours seemed to last forever, and she wanted to blame Rod's absence on her bad night at work.
And, her even worse day.
It was easier than hating herself for wanting to see him and planning how to drive by his house without looking like she was a crazy stalker.
"Okay, everyone." Gia lowered her cell phone from her ear and looked around the room. "Swiss and LeWorth are at the back door."
"I'll let them in." Heather pushed off the counter.
Mel grabbed her wrist. "Stay. I'll unlock the door."
"Thanks, Mel." She turned back around and caught Raelyn's frown.
While most everyone had gone back to their normal routine, though aware of the dangers since Rod's attack, Raelyn struggled to relax. Even during peak hours when customers demanded drinks, tabs, and food, Raelyn remained diligent, eyeing others as if any one of them would jump out and hurt her.
"Are you okay?" asked Heather.
Raelyn inhaled sharply, nodded, and walked away.
Used to women protecting men who abused, threatened, and made their life hell, Heather studied her boss, who'd become a friend over the last few months. Raelyn lived an independent life with her son, but something made her leery, and in Heather's experience, usually that fear was caused by a man.
Bree walked out of the kitchen and approached Heather, placing her hand on her back. "Is Raelyn okay?"
"Hm." Heather pursed her lips. She wasn't sure. "She seems scared lately, don't you think?"
"Almost three years ago, she lost her husband Duke when..." Bree lifted her chin. "When trouble came down on the club. I think everything happening to Rod reminded her of some bad moments in her life."
