Prince: Devil's Fighters MC

by Kathryn Thomas

  Susan opened her mouth to ask what happened, but then she remembered that she probably didn’t want to know about his business dealings. “I caught that on your voicemail,” she said instead. “Something about Wade Industries.”

  “Yeah, I have a trucking company. We’re not big, really, but we make decent money.”

  That explained his ability to take off at a moment’s notice for something to do with biker business. Again, something she didn’t want to ask about. “So, is everything alright?”

  “I got it worked out for the moment. We’ll see if the contract holds or not.” There was a pause. “You sounded upset on your message.”

  He didn’t know the half of it. She’d left that yesterday, when she was full of anger and frustration. Today, her mood was completely different—even worse, in its way—and she didn’t really want to talk about it. “I’ve had a rough couple of days. Last night, I was hoping…” She trailed off. What was she supposed to say? I was hoping I could make a booty call. “I just thought maybe we could make an arrangement.”

  She heard the chuckle at the other end of the line and blushed. She should have known better than to say something like that. “Well, I wasn’t in town last night, but I’m back now. And I have to tell you, with my leg hurting from the long ride, I could really use a kind touch.”

  She winced. She couldn’t imagine how bad he must be hurting. If Susan cared about anything, it was his health. The doctor inside rearing its ugly head. “Okay. I’m not sure—”

  “Why don’t you give me your address?” he cut her off.

  She was at a loss for words. Her apartment was a mess, books scattered everywhere and coffee mugs all over the kitchen. Her garbage was full of microwave dinner boxes, and she didn’t even remember the last time she’d scoured the bathroom. Not that any of that mattered, she thought, gritting her teeth. What did she care what Jim thought of her place? And did she even want him over here? “Maybe you shouldn’t be riding anymore with that leg. In fact, you should probably have it elevated.”

  “I’ve been elevating it all evening, doc.” She shivered at the term. It was her dream to actually earn the title. “The biggest problem is that I’m out of pain meds. Those ER guys don’t give you shit to last for more than a couple of days, as if I’m some kind of Wolverine with instant regenerative abilities.” She knew that all too well. “But it doesn’t really matter, since my bike is a mangled pile that got carried away for scrap metal. I won’t have a ride like that again till tomorrow or the next day, whenever I find something that, uh, butters my toast.”

  She cringed at the use of her phrase. “So why did you want my address?” she asked, confused. Was he going to take a cab? If he had to cross the reservation, it was going to cost him a fortune.

  “I do have a truck. I can’t exactly haul shit with the bike. And I can drive.” Susan felt like an idiot for not thinking about that. “So, are you giving me your address, or have you already satisfied your own needs?”

  The humor in his tone rattled her, and she had a feeling he was imagining her in her bedroom with her hands between her legs. It wasn’t the most pleasant of ideas, and yet, the thought of him thinking about her made Susan feel a tingle low in her stomach. “No, nosy, I haven’t indulged.”

  “Then maybe you should give me your address, and we can both let off some steam.”

  What the hell, she thought, and gave it to him. He said he’d see her in a bit, and she had no idea how long that was as he hung up. Did that mean five minutes or an hour? Rushing around, she threw her cups in the dishwasher and put on some fresh coffee. Even if she didn’t drink it, the smell would be enticing. Then, she went to the bedroom and shoved all the clothes strewn across the floor into her closet, making it appear as though she was somewhat neat. Luckily, the bathroom was clean enough, and she relaxed, only to realize she was in an old, ugly set of sweats with holes. What was she supposed to wear for something like this?

  Eventually, Susan pulled out a pair of satin pajamas she never wore and changed, the knock at the door startling her. She checked the clock; it had taken him less than fifteen minutes to get here. Either he’d driven like Dale Earnhart Jr to get here, or he didn’t live across the reservation.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Flustered and trying to smooth her hair, she went to open the door, and every other thought she’d had flew from her mind. Jim stood there, leaning with one hand against the door frame, his expression amused and his eyes glittering. He had a couple of days’ growth of stubble, and that only brought out the angles of his face and emphasized his perfect chin. His jacket stretched over the tight muscles of his arm, and she wanted to melt. “Are you going to let me in?”

  With a nervous laugh, she stepped back so he could enter, and she caught the subtle limp in his step. “You know, I shouldn’t do this, but I have some pain pills in my cabinet, and I can tend to the wound while you’re here.”

  He turned to look at her, and Susan knew his mind wasn’t on his injuries right now. “Maybe later.” His voice was gruff, and Susan imagined she could smell the sex rolling off him blended with his cologne.

  “If you say so.” She barely got the words out before he moved forward and took her in his arms, and his lips came down on hers much more gently than they had in the past. She opened to him easily, willingly, and she ran her hands up the back of his neck, threading her fingers through his hair. He tensed and relaxed almost instantaneously, and she felt the first signs of his arousal growing against her stomach.

  It excited her, and she kissed him with more enthusiasm while his hands slipped to the front of her top, working with the buttons slowly and dragging his knuckles over her bare skin enticingly as he moved from one button to the next. She felt her mind spinning and her heart racing, and her loins turned to liquid. She spoke with her lips still pressed to his. “I think we’d be more comfortable in the bedroom.”

  Jim didn’t hesitate. It didn’t matter how much his leg hurt, he picked her up so she could wrap her hands around his waist, and he carried her to the only open door in the apartment, assuming it was the bedroom. He didn’t flip on the light, just laid her back on the bed gently, and her hands came to his shoulders, brushing his jacket aside with the tenderest of touches.

  It brought him to life inside, in a way he didn’t want to feel with someone like her, but he couldn’t deny his basic need. He let her push the jacket to the floor, followed by his shirt, and when she reached for his jeans, he only moved to help her avoid aggravating his wound further. As soon as she had him undressed, he pulled off her silky pants and pressed his palm to her sex, making her moan and writhe beneath him as her moisture coated his fingers.

  Their bodies heated and slid along each other with the slickness of sweat as he kissed down her arms and across her stomach. She didn’t disappoint him, either, her fingers playing in the hair at his neck and tickling down his spine. And when he moved back up her body, she spread her hands over his ass, massaging and pulling him toward her as if begging him to be inside.

  Swollen with need, his cock ached for the same, and he urged her knees apart so he could settle between them. He shuddered as he pushed his tip inside, and she cried out, convulsing around him. Her nails dug into his shoulders as he pushed deeper, gritting his teeth at the incredible sensation that warmed him from head to toe. He cautioned himself, pacing his movements so he remained gentle and slow, despite wanting to drill into her with all his might. He needed her to be soft and that meant showing her his softer side.

  But in the end, her heels dug into his lower back, pushing him for more, and her continuous orgasms milked him, so he became frantic. With several long, hard thrusts, he came, throwing his head back and gasping at the near pain of his release. As he finished, Jim started to roll to the side, but Susan pulled him down on top of her, caressing his back with her incredible hands.

  He calmed quickly, the touch soothing, and as he started to doze, he pushed up and off her, needing his distance. “Did
I do something wrong now?” she asked, sounding a bit frustrated.

  Jim sat on the edge of the bed, rubbing his chin with the fingers of one hand. “No, you didn’t.” He shook his head. “Christ, Susan, what are we doing here? I mean, what is this, and why are we doing it? You don’t even really like me. I’m sure you can find a better lay.”

  “First of all, I haven’t found one yet. But that’s only part of it.” He heard her sit up, felt the movement of the bed. And then her hands were on his shoulders, massaging and releasing the remaining tension there. “I don’t hate you, Jim. I don’t know you well enough to like you or hate you. And maybe that’s a good thing because I don’t want to do anything to ruin our chemistry here, in bed.”

  Jim knew better than most what happened when you took a good thing and examined it too hard. He’d ruined a lot of things in his life by overanalyzing them. Maybe he should let this go and just take what he could get for now. Still, he played devil’s advocate. “You’ve hated me every time we’ve seen each other, Susan. What’s different now?”

  “Okay, you got me.” She laughed, and Jim turned to look at her confused. “I hated you on a twisted principle when I rescued you from your idiotic accident. And I hated you when you came onto me in the ambulance. And again later, when you got up and walked away after we’d had sex. That, by the way, really pissed me off, and when I get pissed off, I get hateful, like I was at your clubhouse. I even hated you when you didn’t call me back yesterday. All I could think was, how are we going to work this out if you’re always gone or don’t answer my calls?”

  “You know, I was pissed off that you demanded my attention when I was busy,” he said. “I need my freedom, more than I need anything. But I also need you to not hate me like I’m some fucking piece of shit on the bottom of your Prada shoe.”

  She nodded. “I’ll work on that. I still don’t know if I like you, Jim, but like I said, I barely know you. We’ve got a long way to go to figure out the logistics of this whole arrangement, and I can be a spoiled brat. There will be times when you have to put me in my place and piss me off.”

  A half smile crooked one side of his mouth. “I’m sure there are times you’re going to have to remind me to soften up and not be such a hardass. But either way, I think it’s best if we keep emotion, good or bad, out of it. You couldn’t handle the life of an old lady, and I couldn’t have one that didn’t approve of my lifestyle.”

  “Then we’re in agreement. No emotions, just sex.” She held out a hand, and Jim laughed as he shook it.

  “Great. We’ll make the rules as we go, I guess. Right now, my leg’s got my head all kinds of muddled. You think you could take a look at it now?” He lifted it, turning so he could stretch it out on the bed as she turned on the light. He pulled the dressing off it and winced.

  “Christ, Jim. That looks like shit!” She left the room, and he watched her walk, her naked rear still as enticing as it had been before the sex. When she came back, she had an armload of supplies and handed him two pills. “Swallow those.” She dumped the items on the bed and went to work, and even though it stung and Jim cursed several times, he could tell she was being as gentle as possible.

  Watching her work, the way her fingers moved deftly but carefully over his leg and shot electric sparks through his body, Jim smiled. Maybe the scenario wasn’t perfect, and maybe they’d end up still hating each other enough to call it quits in a couple of weeks. But for now, he could handle all the bad blood between them to get the good. Moments like this were worth the hassle, and Jim thought that, maybe, it was the answer to healing his internal wounds as much as this little spitfire was intent on fixing the ones on the outside.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  Susan sat in her car in front of the ostentatious house and stared at it. She wished she didn’t have to go in. But she’d made the commitment, so she heaved a reluctant sigh and grabbed her makeshift medical bag.

  As she approached the structure, which was reminiscent of the White House, she curled her lip in disgust. She’d hated living here as a child, and she hated it now. Her mother had insisted on a house that stood out, and she’d gotten her wish, setting the family in probably the most unimaginative mansion she could find.

  Susan knocked on the huge carved wooden door, something she doubted most people did when returning ‘home,’ and half-expected a butler in a shiny tuxedo to answer, bowing his bald head as he admitted her. Instead, her mother opened the monstrosity. Susan hadn’t thought the tiny woman capable of moving something that large and solid.

  “Hello, darling!” her mother gushed, spreading her arms, bracelets jingling. She hugged Susan as if nothing was wrong and wore a bright smile.

  Susan patted her mother’s back with her free hand and backed away as quickly as possible. “How is Dad this morning?”

  Her mother’s face fell into a mask of pity. “Oh, darling, I’m so worried!” She moved aside, and Susan finally stepped inside the marble foyer. Her mother’s voice echoed off the empty walls and vaulted ceiling. “He didn’t eat last night, and he was in so much pain. He’s done nothing but doze this morning since breakfast, and his breathing is raspy.”

  Susan traipsed after her mother, whose hands fluttered as she walked quickly. Ever the drama queen. They climbed the winding staircase to the master suite, and Susan stopped dead in her tracks.

  That couldn’t be her father lying in the oversized California king bed. Amidst luxurious piles of pillows, the man in the bed was gaunt, pale, and seemed frail enough to break a bone just by turning his head. The man Susan remembered was large, muscled, and intimidating.

  “Dad?”

  He turned to look at her, coughing, and she could see the yellow tint of his skin when she approached. Jaundice? She swung her head around to scowl at her mother. “How long has he been sick?”

  She recognized her mother’s guilt instantly as the woman stuttered and refused to meet her gaze. “I’ve told him for over a week now he should see a doctor. But he insists he doesn’t trust any of them.”

  Her father laughed behind her, the sound rattling his lungs.“They’re all drunks,” he wheezed. “They’re going to tell me it’s because I drink too much. It’s compromised my immune system, and I just can’t seem to kick the damn cold. That’s all, sweetcheeks.”

  Horrified and angry, Susan shook her head and addressed her mother in a cold tone. “It’s not even nine in the morning. Are you really serving him booze at this time of day?”

  “It eases his pain, darling. I—”

  “You’re an enabler,” she interrupted. Her brow wrinkled as she studied her father again. “Just because you made mistakes doesn’t mean all doctors are going to risk their careers like you did, Dad. You need to see a doctor. This is more than just a cold.”

  He waved a hand in dismissal. “Write me a prescription, then. Give me some antibiotics and a couple of pain pills. I’ll be just fine.” His breath smelled like a distillery, stale liquor spilled on concrete floors and never mopped.

  Susan blanched. “Christ, Dad, you need food, not alcohol.” Her rage settled deep in her chest. She would have thought that losing his license would teach him a lesson, but apparently, Dr. Steve MacGregor was his own man and intended to drink himself to death. Or maybe he truly believed he was invincible. It wouldn’t surprise her. “I can’t write you a prescription, Dad. I’m not a doctor yet.” And may never be. It was this behavior precisely that made her a joke in the medical community. Like father, like daughter. How many times had she heard that over the past few years?

  “Isn’t there something you can do?” her mother asked. “He would be so embarrassed if he had to go to the doctor in this condition.”

  Susan scoffed. “He wouldn’t be in this condition if it weren’t for you. Can’t you see what’s happening here? He drinks his meals, he’s lost too much weight, and there’s something desperately wrong with his health. Whether or not that’s related to the drinking is irrelevant. I can’t help him because I do
n’t know what’s wrong. We have to get him into the ER.”

  She watched her mother’s expression shift to anger. “You think this is my fault? All I’ve ever done is take care of everyone! And in return, I become a horrible, sadistic person who ruins everyone’s lives.”

  “Don’t play the victim here, Mother. And don’t pretend we’re talking about anything else. I’m only focused on one thing right now, and that’s the fact that Dad has to be treated or he’ll die, right here in this bed.” She was sick of her mother’s selfishness and self-absorbed attitude. Everything in the world revolved around her, and if attention was focused anywhere else, she’d find a way to draw it back to her. “Now, can you help me get him to my car? You don’t even have to come with us if you’re too embarrassed to be seen with him.”

  But her mother just crossed her arms and turned away. “I’m not going to help you. My sciatica will act up, and then I’ll be the one in the hospital.”

  Susan’s father flopped one hand on top of hers. “It’s fine, honey. I don’t want to go to the hospital. I’d rather just die here. Pour me another finger of whiskey, and I’ll drink until I’m not breathing anymore. Then your mother can call for the coroner to carry me, and neither one of you have to hurt your backs.”

  Furious, Susan shoved her father away, stood, and stormed out of the room. She reached in her pocket as she walked away. Her mother skittered along behind her. “What are you doing?”

  “I’m calling 9-1-1.” Susan was going to get her father the help he needed, regardless of his indifference and her mother’s neurotic behavior.

  “Don’t you dare! I don’t want those people in my house!”

  Susan whirled, and her mother nearly crashed into her. “Those people? I hate to tell you this, Mom, but I’m one of those people. And it’s my duty as a paramedic, not to mention as his daughter, to get him the help he needs. If you get in the way, I’ll lock you in a guest room until it’s done.”