by Ada Stone
“Thanks, Candy.” He gave her a quick glance, making sure not to smile so as not to give her any wrong ideas. He shouldn’t let her do stuff like that. She was trying to label herself as his girl. The club knew better, but still, he didn’t need anyone thinking Candy was his. If he ever did take an old lady, it sure as fuck wouldn’t be someone who prowled the MC looking for a member to take her on. And no way would he let his old lady act the slut in front of the guys. In private, yeah, she’d be his little whore, his play thing, and she’d get as much reward as him for the fact, but no one would share in that. Not one fucking man would put his eyes on his woman.
“Michael…” It was the softness of her voice that stilled him for a moment. “I…well, do you think maybe we could have dinner? I mean, I’ll cook, I’ll cook your dinner.” He’d let her act go on too long.
“Candy, look, it’s not going to work. If you really want to be an old lady, you have to stop blowing members in the damn bar.” He turned and walked away, but heard her little gasp as he did. Was she pissed or upset? Either way, he hoped she got the idea, finally.
Michael made his way through the members and stepped up to the bar, lifting the shot Sniper had poured for him. Pouring the liquid heat down his throat, he grimaced and then slammed the shot glass down on the bar. “Fuck, I needed that.”
“I don’t know, brother, looked like you were getting what you needed over there in the corner.” Sniper took a pull on his beer. The bald-headed bastard stood a head shorter than Michael and was nearly five years younger, but he had a steel set of balls on him, calling Michael out whenever given the chance. It was for that reason he was one of his closer friends.
“Fuck you.” Michael grabbed the open beer in front of him. “You need to set her up with one of the prospects or something. She’s just not getting the hint.”
“Hint? I’ve heard you turn her down over and over again, but then you stick your dick in her mouth and she gets all her hopes up again.” Sniper looked around the bar, turning and leaning back on his elbows. “Which prospect hasn’t had a shot yet?”
Michael laughed. “I don’t mean find someone for her wrap her legs around, I mean find someone that will keep her. She needs to find someone permanent.”
“What, you’re playing matchmaker now?”
“She’s not a bad chick, just fucked up logic. She just needs someone stable.”
Sniper laughed and ran his hand over the large tattoo covering his bald head. “If stable is what she needs, she should probably go somewhere else.”
“Just do your best to steer the good ones her way. Maybe we should put her to work in the back.”
“Let her get paid for being a whore?”
“If she wants.” Michael nodded. “And it’s not being a whore, it’s being an escort. Show some fucking respect. Our girls aren’t street-walking, discount pussy.” Michael shoved him and downed his beer. The night had taken its toll on him. He knew the vote would go the right way with the garage, but there was still the matter of getting the Devil’s Nest off their backs.
“Fine.” Sniper sighed. “I’ll talk with her tomorrow.”
Michael nodded, intending to head up to his room. The main floor of the club house held the bar area, church, and the business offices. The second floor was made up of apartments. Any unmarried member with high ranking was offered an apartment upstairs. Other, lower ranking members were offered rooms in one of the three houses on the compound.
The doors burst open, and two members ran in screaming. Michael couldn’t understand what the fuck they were carrying on about. Pushing his way forward, he finally got to them. Two prospects held up bloody hands.
“Jeromy!” one said between gulps of air. “Shot. Those fucking Devil’s Nest assholes cut us off on 5th and Main. Jeremy flipped them off, and they fucking shot him!”
“Where is he?” I grabbed the one able to talk by the neck of his shirt, nearly lifting his thin frame off the ground.
“Hospital.”
“Why the fuck didn’t you call someone!” I shoved him to the ground.
“We went after the fuckers but couldn’t catch up to them. Someone else called the ambulance; they were loading him in when we got back.”
“You two idiots chased after them yourselves?” It was Sniper’s turn to growl at them. Fucking idiots. Been prospects for two months. Those Devil’s Nests would have torn them to shreds.
“Next time, you call for help. Right away. Got me?” Michael pointed a finger at them. They both nodded. “You should have called the ambulance first, not some fucking bystander. You never leave your brother lying on the ground bleeding like that!”
They both nodded, looking pitiful and shaken. “He’s okay, the bullet hit his shoulder,” one of them finally said.
“Sniper, take care of these idiots. I’m going to go find Craig and head over to the hospital. And someone call his fucking wife. She’s gonna go batshit when she hears, so someone’s gonna have to drive her to the hospital.”
“I got it man; you go take care of business.” Sniper nodded and grabbed the two prospects, shoving them toward the bathrooms.
Michael took a deep breath and went to find Craig. More than likely he was going to have get him out from between some soft thighs. What a way to end the fucking night.
CHAPTER TWO
Leaning her head back against the plastic-like material of the armchair, Belle glanced over at her mother who was still sleeping. The medicine she’d been given kept her exhausted and sick. When she wasn’t sleeping, she was vomiting. They had tried to go home after the first few treatments, but her mother had gotten so dehydrated, she ended back up in the hospital.
Three weeks had flown by since the initial diagnosis. Her mother had cancer. How the hell was she supposed to deal with that? Work was being as accommodating as they could be, but Belle knew it wouldn’t continue. Besides, she needed the money to help pay the medical bills.
The insurance her mother carried not only sucked, it was mostly useless. They paid for some of the treatments, but there were still going to be a lot of out-of-pocket expenses.
Belle picked up the pamphlet she’d laid in her lap with a newfound sadness. She’d wanted a baby for so long, and waiting around for Prince Charming wasn’t getting her anywhere. She was already twenty-seven. Before her mother had fallen ill, she’d been contemplating having a baby on her own. Now, seeing her mother so ill and likely to slip away from her, the feeling was stronger than ever. No one was promised tomorrow. If she waited too long, it could be too late.
The procedure would cost almost all of her savings, and with her mom needing so much care, it would be selfish to spend the money on herself like that.
Loud beeping interrupted her pity party of one, and Belle watched the nurse rush into the room to turn off the machine.
“Just need to change the IV.” The younger woman smiled. “You’ve been in here all morning. She’ll probably be asleep for a few more hours; that medicine really wipes her out. Why don’t you go down to the cafe and get some lunch, or at least some coffee? It’s better than the stuff in the waiting area on the floor.”
Several nurses had already made that suggestion. They were always trying to force food on her or pour caffeine into her. A few offered to let her use the unit shower to freshen up. Did she really look that awful? Sure, she’d been at her mother’s side every second she wasn’t at work, but she’d showered and even managed to brush her teeth.
“You know, coffee actually sounds good.” Belle pushed off from the chair and leaned over her mother, brushing a loose lock of hair away from her face. “She looks better today.” Belle repeated the lie every day. The nurse gave a polite nod, like they were sharing the same secret.
“Cafeteria is down on the first floor. Take the hall to the right, then just follow the smells. They put in a Starbucks a few months ago. You can’t miss it.” The nurse finished changing the IV bag and patted her mother’s hand before heading out of the room.
Belle slipped her purse over her shoulder and headed in the direction of the elevators. Real coffee. Why hadn’t the nurses told her about the damn Starbucks? It would have made the decision to caffeinate much easier.
She could smell the coffee brewing the moment the elevators opened. This section of the hospital was new to her. She always went in through the front doors and straight to her mom’s room. It looked as though the whole wing had been rebuilt. Beautiful artwork lined the halls, and new tiling had been put in. Way classier than she thought a hospital should look.
Only a short line of people stood between herself and the caffeine boost she’d been denying herself all afternoon. Stepping behind the fourth person in line, she realized she still had the artificial insemination pamphlet in her hands and tucked it into the front pocket of her purse.
“Fuck.” A whispered curse came from behind her. It wasn’t the word, but rather the deep voice that uttered it that drew her attention. With a slight glance over her shoulder, she saw him—the man who’d spoken. The man who took up the whole room with his presence.
If he was an inch, he was an entire head taller than her. Large chest, that looked hard as nails, to go with the muscular arms he possessed. The leather vest he wore over a tight black t-shirt showed off all his strength. And his legs…men shouldn’t wear tight jeans in her opinion, but his legs were so damn built she doubted any pair he put on wouldn’t cling to him in such a way. When she finally made her way up to his face, she sucked in her breath. She’d heard of chiseled features, read about them in novels, but never had she seen the model for such descriptions. And there he was, with chin length, dirty blond hair, a light covering of stubble over his firm jaw, and green eyes. No, not just green, muddy, swampy-green, unlike anything she’d seen before.
He swept his gaze over the line and came to her. Their eyes met, but only for a split second before she looked away, facing back to the front. Her cheeks heated enough to know she was blushing. Blushing! A grown woman blushing over some guy just because he looked hot. If hot was really a strong enough word to describe him.
She felt him step in line behind her, and the heat of his body rolled over her. Sticking her thumb nail between her teeth, she began to nibble—a nervous habit from a long time ago.
The scent of leather and aftershave enveloped her from behind, and she closed her eyes, inhaling the sweet smell of it. Manly—he smelled manly. Much different from the men she dated. Even those a few years older than her all seemed so young, unworldly, and boyish.
“The line moved, darlin’.” A strong finger tapped her shoulder. She jumped and stepped forward, mumbling an apology but not looking back. He’d see how red her face was if she looked back at him, and that wouldn’t do. Let him stand behind her oblivious to what he was doing to her, because she doubted she was the first girl to react in such a way. The man was probably used to having women faint at his feet. He looked more like a Viking than an ordinary man. But he was just a man, she reminded herself.
“You okay? You seem jumpy.” He leaned forward and she could smell his breath. Mint. Damn him.
“Uh, yeah.” She chanced a glance over her shoulder; his face was near to resting on her. “I’m, uh, fine. Thanks.” She scooted up when the line moved again. She heard his low chuckle. Was he laughing at her? What the fuck was so funny?
“I wouldn’t really say fine,” he said from behind her but hadn’t moved closer. She tried to ignore him. She couldn’t talk with him; that would only encourage her body to continue reacting to him so damn much. Hell, her nipples were starting to tighten just from the brief exchange they’d already had.
She tried to ignore him as the woman in front of her gave her order, but his gaze was burning into her back. She made a quick glance, just to assure herself he wasn’t staring at her. Nope. He was completely fixated on her, and when he caught her little peek back at him, he grinned. A wide grin that deepened the creases around his mouth and made his eyes look much lighter.
“I’ll have a grande caramel latte, please.” If the caffeine didn’t wake her up, maybe the sugar high would. She pulled her wallet out of her purse only to be pushed aside.
“And I’ll have a plain coffee. You do that, right? Just black coffee?” The guy behind her had moved her out of the way and thrust a twenty-dollar bill at the girl at the register. The girl, who, once she looked up from pressing the buttons on the machine, dropped her jaw. As much as Belle understood the reaction, she found herself not liking it. Not one bit.
“Um, of course. Black coffee., What size?”
“Small.” She took the money from him, and he turned to Belle with a large grin.
Finally finding her vocal cords, she spoke up. “You don’t have to do that. I can pay for my own coffee.” She tried to shove past him to hand over a credit card, but he wasn’t moving. The stone build of his remained right where it was as he plucked the plastic from her hand and tucked it into the back of her jeans. His fingers brushed her rounded ass when he did so, sending a current of heat through her body. Dammit, she was going to blush again.
“Wasn’t a matter of if you could, was a matter of me wanting to pay.” His answer didn’t help her irritation, but did at least wash away some of her shyness.
“I didn’t ask you to.”
“I didn’t either. I think your drink is ready. Go grab it, and we’ll find a table.” He took his change from the girl behind the counter and picked up his coffee without another word. He just expected her to listen to him, to do as he said? That wasn’t something she regularly did. Yet, when he raised an eyebrow and pointed to her drink still sitting on the ledge waiting to be claimed, she moved to do exactly that.
Thinking to grab her drink and get back up to the room with her mom, she turned toward the exit. His large, rough hand cupped her elbow and led her to a table for two in the corner of the cafe. “Not so crowded over here,” he said as he waited for her to sit down.
What could a few minutes hurt? Her mom would be sleeping for a while yet, and when was the last time she had a conversation with a sexy man? Only a conversation, she told herself. She couldn’t afford anything else right now. She needed to stay focused and make her plans.
# # #
Fuck, she was hot. Michael knew she’d be pretty when he stepped behind her in line, but when she turned around and he got a good look at her, his cock leapt at the chance to talk to her. Dressed in plain jeans and a tattered sweatshirt, he could still make out her curves. He didn’t see her breasts until she turned to get her coffee, and again, he wasn’t disappointed.
The little dusting of freckles over her nose gave her an innocent appearance. She was no little girl, but fuck if she didn’t give off the innocent vibe. Stepping in to buy her coffee was an easy decision. Corralling her over the table seemed right too, but when he touched her, just the soft cupping of her elbow, his body tensed at the sensation that crawled over his body.
“Just for a minute. I have to get back upstairs.” She took a tentative sip of her coffee.
“You visiting someone?” She definitely didn’t work there. He knew most of the staff at the hospital. Over the years, too many members, or their family members, had used the services of the hospital. Every time one of them ended up there, Michael saw it as his duty to check in on them.
“My mom.” She frowned and readjusted the strap over her shoulder. She hadn’t taken her purse off. Maybe she thought she’d stick around for a few sips and bolt.
“Serious?” He didn’t want to ask, yet the words flew out of his mouth. Seeing the wrinkle of worry on her face irritated him. Something so pure shouldn’t know pain. Not like that anyway.
“Serious enough.” The casual shrug and wave of her hand might have worked on most men, but he knew what that meant. It was damn serious, but she didn’t want to talk about it. Fine with him. “You?”
“Friend. Just a little injury. He’ll be home in a day or two.” Luckily for Jerry, the bullet had gone clean through his shoulder. If it hadn’
t been for the blood loss and the torn muscle that needed surgery, he would have been home already.
“He in your, uh, club?” She pointed at the patches on his kutte. Most women outside the MC didn’t bring up his kutte, not because they didn’t understand what it all meant, but because they were afraid of it. Not this girl, though. She didn’t look scared of anything.
“Yeah.” He took a sip of the coffee. Not bad. Not worth the five bucks, but not bad. “You look a little wound up.” He rested his hand over her small one on the table. Her skin was smooth beneath his, and he ran his thumb under her palm. She couldn’t hide the tremor of her body at his touch. He wanted to see what else he could do to her, if his thumb got that sort of reaction. “Like you need some tension released.”
