by M. N. Forgy
I wave my hand and give a light smirk. “Hey, ladies,” I respond, standing up.
I pull my phone out looking at the time. Damn, I have to get to the club, no time to play. I’m the road captain of the Devil’s Dust MC, but even with the freedom of living by our own laws inside the club, my president, Bull, will not hesitate to kick my ass if I’m late for our meetings, also known as Church. I grin at the sexy girls and head toward the double doors directly in front of me, hoping it leads outside.
I see my bike parked right out front, and a pink heel laying in the gravel right next to it. I climb on and can’t help but laugh as I kick the heel away from the tire.
I take the back way toward the club, wanting to avoid the freeway as much as possible at this hour. Even though I can weave through vehicles on my bike, rush-hour traffic in the morning is a nightmare.
When I arrive at the clubhouse, I park my bike next to Shadow’s. Shadow and I go way back. He was my first real friend when I was a kid, and I’m pretty sure I was his. Growing up, I didn’t make friends easily, at least not true friends. According to the guys beating the shit out of me, I was a nerd. That’s what they called me. That alone resulted in me being bullied a lot; add in the glasses and being smart, it’s easy to see why I was targeted. I thought I fucking rocked though, still do actually. I was just fascinated by how things worked, how pieces were put together to make a bigger picture. That was why I was intrigued by Shadow when I first met him. He was different from other kids. He didn’t want to make friends; couldn’t care less about what everyone was into, and he fucking sucked at anything educational. When I talked to him for the first time, I realized we did have one thing in common: getting into trouble. He was a puzzle I wanted to put together. In doing so, he showed me loyalty and became my family. He was all I had after my mother and father passed away, killed by a drunk driver. I would put my life on the line for Shadow, have actually, and he would do the same for me. Over the years, he has showed me the depths of true friendship. There is only one other person in this world who has thrown me for a loop. The bigger picture I can’t seem to piece together. That is Jessica, Doc, as she is known around the club. I gave her my number shortly after she arrived back at the club years back, helping us out as repayment for her protection. She ended up feeding me the same line I fed girls I have no intention of calling back.
“Yeah, okay,” she said hesitantly, avoiding eye contact and stuffed the paper containing my number in her back pocket.
I have slept with her off and on through the years; which isn’t a lot. After the times we slept together, I would wake up to try and slip away, not wanting to complicate things, to find she beat me to it. Gone.
She comes around the club for a couple of parties here and there, and then she’ll split for weeks at a time, distancing herself. I’ve tried to crack what goes on in that beautiful mind of hers, but it just makes her push herself away from me more. Which is probably a good thing. I like the way things are going for me. I’m carefree, and without limitations. Knowing Jessica more will throw me over the line of freedom and into something complicated. I have seen firsthand what that does to a man. Look at Shadow and Dani. They became careless after they got too close, and it cost me two bullets!
I enter the clubhouse and walk right past everyone at the bar, going into the kitchen needing something to wet my dry mouth. I must have smoked a lot of pot last night. Shit always gives me cottonmouth something bad.
Grabbing the orange juice from the fridge, I drink directly from the jug. Replacing the container back where I found it, I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand, and then close the refrigerator before heading out of the kitchen.
It’s quiet, too quiet. I stride back into the common area and notice everyone huddled over the bar looking at the flat screen TV hanging on the wall.
“What’s everyone—“
“Shhhh!” Shorty snaps at me, her brown hair flinging over her shoulder from whipping her head in my direction. The intensity of her brown eyes as she scowls makes me grin. Shorty was brought in by the ol’ ladies several months after Babs passed away. Babs was the mother of the MC, and could never be replaced, but it’s nice having Shorty clean up around here. She’s short and cute as hell. I’m not entirely sure what her story is. I heard some shit about her dad abusing her, but I’m not sure if it’s true. She helps behind the bar, and though her food tastes like shit, she tries to cook.
I turn my gaze back to the TV and see a reporter frantically trying to get past a crowd of gawking people.
“Really big wreck on the freeway,” Shadow whispers, watching the TV intently, his arms crossed in front of his chest while he stares at it.
“Damn, glad I took the back way then,” I respond.
“Back way? Where did you come from?” Shadow questions, his tone curious.
I raise my eyebrows and smile. “A sorority.”
Shadow smirks, shaking his head.
Jessica
I wake to a loud buzzing, causing me to roll over and slam my hand down on the alarm clock.
“No, not yet,” I mumble into the pillow. The loud buzzing continues, making me lift my head from the pillow to inspect the alarm. The alarm isn’t going off; it’s my cellphone. Shit, I’m on call at the hospital. I hurry out of bed and grab my phone from the charger.
“Dr. Wren,” I answer, my voice cracking from speaking so quickly, and not fully awake.
“We need you to head over to where the 10 intersects the 405,” my boss instructs.
“Why?” I don’t usually get a call to go to a scene. Actually, it has never happened.
“There has been a multiple car pileup and we need you there now. There are several casualties and not enough ambulances or EMTs to assist.” Her voice shaky as if she is overwhelmed.
“Yeah, okay, I’ll be there as soon as I can,” I yawn into the phone.
I end the call and groan. This always happens having the job I do. I plan things, but get called in making me reschedule. Today was supposed to be mine and Addie’s day and I don’t even get to take her to school. I pull on my white robe and head down the hall to the apartment directly across from mine. Looks like Bree will have to take her. Bree is Addie’s babysitter. Luckily, she lives right across the hall, and adores my daughter. She is great with Addie, helping her with school-work, and even letting Addie stay the night when I’m on call or on graveyard shift.
I rasp my knuckles against the door, and lean against the doorframe.
The door swings open and a smiling Bree hands me a cup of coffee. Her dark hair is pulled up into a messy bun, and her glasses are sitting on the bridge of her nose, causing a slight red indent creasing it. Her eyes are bloodshot; she must have been up studying all night for her college exams. I met Bree when I moved in. She locked herself outside her apartment, so I offered for her to stay at my place until the landlord called her back. I found she was going to school for nursing, taking online classes, and evening classes when she could afford the tuition. I gave her tips for studying, and advice on the exams she’d be taking. Next thing I knew, she was over every other day, asking questions she couldn’t figure out on her homework, and on breaks, she’d play with Addie.
“I saw the news. I figured they would call you in,” she says, pointing over her shoulder to a reporter on the TV.
“More like calling me to the scene. I’m guessing it’s pretty bad. I need to get there quickly. Can you get Addie up and take her to school?” I ask, taking a sip of the coffee.
“Sure thing,” she says, closing the door behind her, following me to my apartment.
***
Driving to the scene of the accident, I can tell it’s going to be total chaos. There are fire trucks flying past me, and ambulances every which way, and miles ahead, smoke is rising above. I mentally prepare myself for the carnage that will take place as I pull onto the shoulder, passing the stopped traffic. I get as close as I can to the scene and park. Getting out, I pull my supply bag from the back seat
. I reach in and grab my gloves, placing them on my hands for protection. It’s then that I hear it. The distraught screaming from the wounded; doctors yelling orders, and sirens from emergency vehicles sounding in the background. I close my eyes, take a deep breath, and head toward it all.
When I round the yellow tape surrounding the large scene, my heart stops. There are cars turned over with mangled bodies hanging halfway out. Trucks are piled on top of trucks with blood staining the pavement.
I look down at my bag and realize I need more supplies, a lot more. I turn on the heel of my foot and all but sprint back to my Jeep. I dig in the glove box and find more gauze and antibacterial wipes. I grab anything I can find, including pens. They can be a great tool when you are left with nothing else. I throw it all in my bag and jog back to the scene as quickly as I can. I’m suddenly pulled back by dainty little fingers just feet from the yellow tape, causing me to nearly trip on debris scattering the ground.
“Ma’am, can you tell us what you are seeing on the other side of the wrecked cars? How many injuries do you suspect? How many fatalities? Can you tell us anything?” a reporter quizzes frantically, waving a camera in my face. I turn trying to hide my face, not wanting the exposure.
“Dr. Wren, over here!” Is yelled at me from the other side of the tape. I yank my arm free from the reporter and make my way toward Doctor Meldon who is standing above someone trapped under a car. Doctor Shane Meldon recently transferred from a hospital in New York. We seem to be on the same shift together often. He is all right, but is persistent in asking me out on a date. I just tell him I don’t date those who I work with. But in all honesty, he has Stage Five Clinger written all over him.
Bobby
I watch the reporter frantically going on about how a truck driver caused the accident during rush-hour traffic.
I start picking at the bar’s loose wood grain, listening to the reporter ramble on about how it’s the worst wreck this state has seen in years.
“Ma’am, can you tell us what you are seeing on the other side of the wrecked cars? How many injuries do you suspect? How many fatalities? Can you tell us anything?”
I look up after nothing but silence follows the reporter’s sudden questions, and I find a stunned Jessica. Her round cheeks flush, and her pink lips part as she stares at the camera. God, she is beautiful. I haven’t seen her in weeks. She’s avoiding me; avoiding is what she does best. My chest tightens as I stare at the scared look on Jessica’s face, my fist clenching with the urge to protect her.
A loud crash sounds from outside the club, grabbing everyone’s attention from the TV to the front door.
“What the fuck was that?” I question, standing up from the bar.
“I’m not sure,” Bull drawls, eyeing the door.
I head to the entry and see Tom Cat on the ground, his bike laid over, knocking a couple bikes over in a domino effect.
“Oh, shit!” I curse, running out to him.
He is mumbling in pain, and his body is trembling.
“What the hell happened?” I question, squatting next to him.
He rolls his body just slightly, his leg standing out, resembling raw ground-up meat. His pants leg is ripped and tattered up to his thigh, with grooves and chunks slicing through his leg. Little hues of pink dot the top of the knee, deepening into red further down his leg. The red is so dark; it looks black in the fattier part rounding the calf. It’s road rash. I’ve gotten it before after taking a corner too fast and dropping my bike. I know what that shit looks, and feels like.
“Fuck,” I mutter, eyeing his torn-up leg.
“What happened?” Shadow asks, slipping his arm under Tom’s arms to lift him from the ground. I didn’t even notice Shadow followed me; I was so focused on Tom’s leg. I move around Shadow and wrap my arm around Tom’s waist to help carry him into the club. Tom was patched in a few months ago. Now Shadow has been dubbed Vice President, Tom is busy learning the reins of Sergeant At Arms, Shadow’s old position.
“Fucking wreck on the freeway,” Tom grits, his body wracking from the pain. We get him in the club and lay him on the couch.
“What did you do? Wreck and decide to drive here?” I question with a hint of humor.
“I wasn’t fucking staying around all that. People were screaming.” He pauses, swallowing hard. “It was like nothing I’ve ever seen before.”
“Damn, brother,” Bull says, eyeing Tom’s leg. “I’ll call Doc, but she might be a minute from the looks of the TV.”
Tom growls in pain, closes his eyes, and leans his head back on the armrest. It sucks that he is in so much pain, but I can’t help but be a little excited to see Jessica.
2
Jessica
I enter the Devil’s Dust clubhouse and am met with those defining blue eyes of Bobby’s. Fuck, I was hoping he wouldn’t be here. My eyes travel to his plump lips standing out against the blond scruff growing into stubble on his tanned cheeks. I pause in my step, holding the door as I walk in. His hungry eyes rake me in from head to toe unforgivingly, causing a warmth to blossom between my legs.
He is fucking gorgeous and hard to stay away from, when that’s all I need to do; stay away from him. Every time I see him, his presence is a challenge; he lays on his charm, and seductive ways. I can usually resist, but every so often, I find myself become weak and give in. Only to wake the next day scared and regretful. Bobby is known for his playboyish ways. He is no doubt a heartbreaker. It would be stupid on my part to let anything between us escalate. Not to mention his lifestyle. That danger he drinks in so vigorously along with the laws of the club, claiming women as their property, not letting them go, is exactly what I escaped from years ago. I have to think of my daughter and her safety, and keep away from Bobby and his brothers. It’s the hardest thing I have ever had to do in my life, and I am faced with it every time I see Bobby. I want to be with him, but I have seen the dangers this club circles around. Safe, is not the word I would use to describe it. Yet confusingly, Bobby makes me feel safe. Makes me want him to be mine every time he sweet-talks his way into my pants.
Bobby smirks, putting those dimples to work. Lust filters through my body causing my cheeks to warm, and me to quickly look away. He climbs my wall of defense every time I see him, pushing past every thought of staying away from him. But who am I trying to kid? Bobby’s charm is relentless and I’m weak resisting it.
“Bull, when you said someone had a rash, I thought you were talking about Bobby. I even brought some penicillin for whatever critters he might be carrying,” I tease as I make my way into the club, breaking eye contact from Bobby. I walk to the bar and risk a look in Bobby’s direction. He laughs at my humor as the rest of the boys chuckle at his expense.
I hear a deep, strangled moan and look behind me, noticing Tom on the couch and his leg covered in road rash.
“He was in that wreck that’s all over the news,” Bull informs, standing next to him. I walk over to Tom and kneel down.
“Why didn’t you stay at the scene?” I ask Tom, my tone dour as I inspect his leg.
“You were there. You saw it. I couldn’t handle those screams, the cries of people suffering. I couldn’t do anything to help them. I could barely ride my bike back to the club,” Tom replies gravely, his eyes closed and jaw ticking from the amount of pain he’s in.
I nod. I understand what he means. It was terrible. I came across four deceased, and two died on me when I was trying to stop horrendous amounts of bleeding. I ran out of supplies quickly, having to use what I could find in cars that were overturned, and napkins from fast food bags that had fallen from the back of trucks. The feeling of not being able to do everything you can is hard to bear.
“Okay, well, I need to clean it and it’s going to hurt. I’m going to have to stitch the bigger gash on your calf too, and you could probably use a tetanus shot,” I inform, placing on some latex gloves. Tom lays his head back on the side of the couch and silently nods, preparing himself for the pain to follow.
/>
An hour and a half later, I finally finish on Tom’s leg. He’s passed out from the drugs I gave him, which is for the better, considering the way he was wincing when I was cleaning it. The entire time I worked on Tom, a blaze of desire raced along my skin from Bobby’s eyes burning into my back. Pulling my bloody gloves inside out, I toss them in the trash, and go to wash my hands in the kitchen.
“Why don’t you stay awhile?”
I turn around and see Bobby leaning up against a counter with his legs crossed in front of him. His black shirt fitting snuggly against his torso, outlining the curves of his muscles beautifully. I bite my lip and turn back to my hand washing.
“Can’t. I gotta get to the hospital and check on my patients,” I tell him. It’s not a lie. The amount of people admitted to the emergency room, I know they need me. I grab some paper towels and dry my hands.
“What about after?” Bobby suggests. I know what he is doing; he’s laying on the relentless charm.
I toss the towel in the trash and turn to face him. He has the smirk, the one that makes my whole body thirst for him. His tattooed hands are barely inside his jean pockets, and his eyes are at half-mast as he devours me with his eyes. I close my eyes and turn my head to the side, hoping when I open them, they will be looking at something other than Bobby.
“Can’t.” I push off the counter, and walk past him. I’ve gotta get out of here. I grab my bag off the floor next to Tom and head toward my Jeep.
“Can’t or won’t?” Bobby asks, jogging out of the club, following me.
I stop and sigh, wishing he’d stop pursuing me.
I turn my head slightly but continue to walk forward. “Bobby, you can have any girl you want who’s a lot easier to get than me. Leave me alone,” I quip dryly, the words hard to spit out. You would think after as many times as I have said them over the years, they would get easier to say, but they don’t, and he never listens.
“I’m just having a conversation. Who says I’m after you? A little presumptuous, aren’t we?” he mocks. I bite the inside of my lip to keep from smiling as I continue to walk forward.
