He sat up on the patient table he was using as a bed, shoving to the floor the blanket he’d borrowed from Seth’s old cinderblock cabin. His life had changed so much that sometimes he couldn’t even imagine he was the same man. He’d been happy then, normal . . . well, maybe not entirely, but he’d been close. He was happy enough with the Steel Kings, too. He had a sense of friendship here, of belonging, and he also still got to help people, but there was still something missing. It wasn’t even something he could put his finger on during the busy day, when he was riding with the crew, helping a brother who’d injured himself, or even participating in the charity events the club ran. It was now, in the quiet of the night, when he lay alone in his bed that thoughts invaded his head.
His head thumped back against the wall as memories washed over him. Life with Ava in his bed had been a whole new kind of wonderful—so new and great that he hadn’t realized they were burning too hot until the entire world fell down around his ears. Ava was smoking sexy, she still was, but back then they’d been so damn young. The world had been lying at their feet for the taking, and they’d been so busy taking advantage of every opportunity, every extra case they got to assist on, every late-night drink with other residents after the “big one,” their damn stupid rule about not talking . . . Doc’s hands tensed on his thighs. He’d wanted to talk to Ava so damn bad that night, but he couldn’t. He’d promised, and besides, someone so wonderful and light as she shouldn’t have darkness like that brought into her world. God knows she’d see it eventually in their line of work. He didn’t need to hasten that day. And so he’d pushed it down, ignored it in favor of the supremely hot sex to “get his mind off it.” Until it had consumed him. That night, Connor Mills had run, run until his lungs were bursting and he felt like he might explode out of his skin. He’d drifted, almost lost, for nearly a year. That was when Levi had found him, and the rest was history.
But, God. Visions of Ava dressed in little more than a sheer nightgown filled his mind, and Doc groaned, his cock growing hard as steel against his worn jeans. He pushed his hand against it, groaning at the friction, but it was no match for his memories. What it felt like to hold Ava in his arms, to thrust deep inside her, places where no other man had been, and watch her come apart underneath him. Damn it, he still wanted it. He’d grown up well and truly since those days, changed. He couldn’t help it, with what he’d seen. And as much as he’d wanted to protect her from the evils of the world, Ava had too. It had been obvious in her eyes yesterday. Those scared, wary eyes. Doc opened his, staring into the quiet dark that was his surgery. He was really ramping up the torture tonight. She’d been scared of him. There was no future there, only a past that he’d let slip through his fingers.
Thank the Lord that after hearing his half-tale, Levi had agreed that biding their time was a better idea. As much as Doc wanted to smash some heads for what had happened at the clubhouse that afternoon, he also recognized that they’d just be doing exactly what the sheriff had feared; innocents would be caught in the literal crossfire. Connor was sure that Ava would be one of the first.
The asshole at the hospital had known exactly who he was, and if there was any doubt, his cut declared him a member of the Steel Kings to anyone with half a brain who knew what the patches and symbols meant. There was no way they’d missed his attraction and attention to Ava, either. Any further action was just going to put her further in danger, and it was he who’d put her there. With the club waiting, gathering their intel and equipment to do a proper job, it also meant he could make sure Ava was safe before vengeance struck. Shakespeare had volunteered to start the mission, diving into the Joker’s digital records and hidey-holes on the dark web. If there was any information out there on what they were planning next, he’d find it. Then they could cut the head off the snake. Meanwhile, he’d keep her safe. It didn’t matter that there was no future with her. He’d screwed up her life the first time by leaving, and then yesterday he’d fucked it up again. He owed it to her to keep her safe until all this shit with the Jokers was done and buried.
He pushed up from the bed. First, a shower. Doc looked down at this shirt, frowning. There was still blood drops decorating the front, along with dust from the cleanup, plus some kind of stain that he didn’t want to think about where it had come from.
After attending to Shakespeare yesterday afternoon, he’d spent a good long while patching scrapes and cleaning cuts from what seemed like half the members of the club. No one else had needed more than a Band-Aid and some antiseptic cream, but he’d taken his time. He’d chatted with each member as he’d dressed and cleaned their wounds—casual stuff, nothing that seemed out of the ordinary. That didn’t mean it wasn’t successful at pinpointing anyone who might need some reassurance, someone who was still feeling a high, or a low, after the surprise attack. Sure, they were bikers, big tough guys. Didn’t mean that almost getting shot to shit in your own house didn’t mess with your mind. Doc had kept a careful eye on Grady for most of the evening, despite the man shooing him away when he’d dared come near him with a sterile wipe, but he seemed fine.
He’d finally been able to exhale hours later. He was done, and everyone was fine—or fine enough to get by his radar, anyway. He’d keep watching, keep observing, over the next few days, but Doc was sure the Kings would do exactly what they did best: have each other’s backs. Some people in the club called him quiet, a loner, but he felt as close to every member as he did his own family. He observed, made sure they were safe. That was what he did, and now he was sure they were all okay, that’s what he’d do for Ava.
It was still dark out, enough time to make himself look presentable before riding over to the hospital early enough to catch anyone arriving for a day shift. He moved through his morning ablutions quickly, throwing on fresh jeans and a long-sleeved Henley under a jacket and his cut. It was still cold enough out in the predawn air to need it, and he’d likely be spending a long time outside today. He skipped shaving, not giving a shit about the stubble covering his jaw. Maybe it’d scare off anyone from trying to talk to him. After managing to get his bike out of the compound without waking anyone who was likely to tell him his plan was a supremely stupid idea—as if he didn’t know that already—he was on the road.
It only took an hour, maybe two, of sitting astride his bike, tucked in the shadows of the staff parking lot at the hospital, for him to spot her. He was close enough to see her face, but even if he wasn’t, Doc would have known Ava anywhere. The shape of her body, the pattern of her walk. She’d matured since he’d last seen her, curvier. God, that was sexy as hell. There was nothing better than having something to hang on to when taking a woman deep, and the curves of Ava’s hips, her breasts, were just right—full of womanly softness that made heat bloom within him and his dick hard. Thank God he’d opted for jeans. They weren’t as comfortable as his soft leathers, but they did a better job of hiding the perpetual boner he seemed to have around her.
With one glance, it was like he’d been transported right back to his early twenties, when neither he nor his dick could restrain themselves. He wasn’t a kid anymore, but his dick didn’t seemed to care. One look at Ava walking across the parking lot, the early morning sun glinting from her rich, chocolate-brown hair, and he was raring to go. He ignored it. He had no business being aroused. He had to stay sharp.
He stood dead still, every muscle primed for action, almost begging for someone to approach Ava so he could show them she was not alone, not unprotected. A low growl sounded when he noticed the scarf tied around her throat. He twitched, just for a second, until he realized the sound had come from his own mouth. She’d been smart. Anyone else would view it as nothing more than a fashion accessory, a bit of fun. He knew better. The way the Joker had been gripping his meaty hands around her tender flesh, there would be marks. The fact she was attempting to hide them made Doc’s blood boil. She had nothing to be ashamed of.
Ava crossed the parking lot without incident, but Doc still didn’
t move. He stood there, watching, waiting. When she didn’t emerge for a lunch break, he still didn’t move. The sun moved across the sky, and after his cell vibrated in his back pocket more than once, he shot off a quick message to Seth that he was on recon, and then ignored it.
Finally, after the sun was just dipping below the horizon, Ava appeared again. She was carrying that damn large tote bag with her again. What the hell did she keep in that thing?
He was glad to see, at least, that she moved just as swiftly as she had had the morning. There was no standing around, chatting with colleagues, or digging through that giant bag for her keys. Ava emerged from the hospital, stepped quickly to her car, and climbed inside, then started the engine just as quickly. Connor threw his leg over his bike and started her up, twisting the throttle, and followed her out onto the road.
7
Ava
Ava clutched the pepper spray tightly in her hand as she crossed the lot. It was a small container, hidden almost entirely from view in her palm. That was part of the point, she guessed, easy to conceal. It had been rattling away in the bottom of her bag for years, a gift from her dad when she started night shifts. Shit, could that stuff expire? She had no idea, had never had any cause to use it.
She smiled despite her tight grip on the canister. She didn’t see her parents as much as she’d like anymore, a couple of times a year, holidays mostly, since she’d moved to another state looking for a fresh start. It was still nice to remember they cared for her, and for Emily, too. They’d been worried at first. Being a single mom was tough. A single mom working a fifty-hour work week, or more, in twelve-hour shifts? She would never have gotten through those early years if it hadn’t been for her parents. Now, she kept in touch by phone and email, sending them happy snaps of Emily she took on her phone. Her mom had flat-out refused to figure out social media, and so every week or so, she’d bundle up her favorite shots and email them over.
A scuffling from the corner of the lot made her jerk, her finger catching on the edge of the canister, thankfully not hard enough to set it off. That would have been the cherry on top of the shit sundae that had been her day. She’d been on high alert that morning, rushing into the building as fast as she could manage without looking like a total lunatic. It was only once she was inside that she realized she’d been a whole different kind of idiot. She should have taken time—a short while anyway, not long enough to make herself a sitting duck—to scope out the parking lot, make sure it was clear of anyone she didn’t recognize or anyone dressed like they were on a mission other than coming to the hospital for work or treatment. Who the hell was she kidding? Her patients came from all walks of life. There was no point. She’d never be able to spot any kind of danger until it was breathing down her neck.
She shivered. Like yesterday. The guy had moved swiftly for such a big man. One moment she’d been expressing her condolences for the loss of their friend, using all the right words. We tried everything, injuries too severe, unfortunately he died . . . everything she’d learned as a resident, and that usually worked. Sure, people got upset, that was to be expected. Some even lost their temper. But, until yesterday, no one had wrapped their hand around her throat and squeezed.
Get a grip. Forcing the memories from her head, Ava slipped her key into the ignition and drove away. Pausing at the exit to the parking lot, she switched on the car radio, deliberating changing to a station full of bobby pop hits. The music nearly made her want to shove cotton balls so deep into her ear canals they never came out again, but she left it on. By the first set of traffic lights, it was actually having the desired effect. Despite the stupidity of the lyrics—give her Zeppelin any day—her foot was tapping along with the beat, and her spirits lifted.
She’d been jumpy all day, her concentration shot. She’d nearly hit the ceiling from fright when a colleague had simply come up behind her and touched her elbow to get her attention. There was no way she was going to let Emily see her like that. Somehow, it had been easier the night before, despite it being only hours since the incident. Perhaps it had been shock, who knew, but the full impact of exactly what had happened hadn’t seemed to have hit. Now, after a day where it seemed every person who she saw looked at her with either pity or worry, asking if she was okay, Ava wanted to scream. No, she wasn’t okay! She’d been scared out of her mind. She scowled. How the hell would they feel if someone had been trying to choke the life out of them less than twenty-four hours ago? Was she okay? What a stupid question.
Her finger tapped against the steering wheel, a little too fast even for the techno-style beat now echoing from her car speakers. You know what else she was? Pissed the fuck off. Who the hell did the guy think he was, threatening a health care worker simply because the situation hadn’t gone the way he wanted? Yeah, it sucked when someone you knew died—it sucked big ones—but that was no excuse.
It was a sad reality that heath care workers were victims of workplace violence every damn day. They were four times more likely than people in other jobs to become targets. She knew it, knew all the stats, and knew the signs. Not that any of that had helped any. She hadn’t seen it coming, and it hadn’t stopped her from being downright terrified when she realized what was happening. Even now, with everything all over, she still couldn’t quite shake the unease that had settled over her like a large, heavy blanket. It had been her first day, damn it!
As she turned the corner, the car beeped at her. She looked down at the dashboard. The gas light was on. There was no way in hell she was stopping now, not with dusk coming and the only place between there and home a small station. She’d stop at the big chain store station on the way to work in the morning. Hopefully then it would be full of early morning commuters grabbing a coffee and donut along with gas on the way to work, and blissfully free of bikers.
Damn. There was that shiver again. It felt as if someone had dropped an ice cube down the back of her scrubs. A trail of cold tracked down her spine, settling heavy in her gut. Bikers. Motorcycles. She could have sworn she’d heard a bike gunning it just as she’d gotten to her car, but she’d refused to pause even to check around the lot. Instead, she’d swung her car door open and practically clamored inside before driving off as fast as she could.
She checked the gas gauge one more time, making sure she had enough to make it until the next day, then glanced up in her rearview mirror. Traffic was heavy, but it was all trucks, four-wheel drives, and regular cars—not a bike in sight. Now if she could just make it home before the good mood that had been manufactured by the cheery music disappeared entirely, that’d be great. Seeing Emily would give her a boost in itself, but Ava didn’t want her daughter to see even a second’s worry or fear in her eyes. Emily was three years old. The only things she should be scared of was broccoli, and monsters under the bed.
She spared one last glance behind her as the lights changed, and then she drove around the corner. Enough. Despite her preoccupied mind that day, she’d made it through the day without killing anyone, thank God. She wasn’t about to end the day by wrapping herself around a tree because she hadn’t been able to stop thinking about those asses long enough to drive home safely. Later. After Emily was all tucked up in bed and Ava had a nice big glass of something heavily alcoholic. Then she could let her mind wander again, wonder what if. She had the whole night to wallow before she had to be back at the hospital again, coherent enough to work. For now, she needed to be a mom.
Emily must have been watching at the window, as only seconds after her car pulled up at the curb, the front door to Ava’s house flew open, and Emily came flying down the front steps followed closely behind by Mrs. Bryan. The woman was a godsend, offering to look after Emily most days for extremely affordable rates. Her own grandchildren lived in another state, she told Ava, and spending time with Emily helped scratch that grandmothering itch.
They spent the day mostly at Mrs. Bryan’s house, but she’d bring Emily back in the evening for her bath and, so far. Ava had come home to fin
d dinner started too. The woman was a saint. Though, maybe she might have a quiet word, just asking her to keep Emily inside and let Ava come up to the door instead. Emily could still get her tackle hug in, but within the safety of her own house.
Ava rolled her eyes, stepping out of the car and opening her arms, ready to catch the small girl as she came flying down the steps. She was being ridiculous. There, in her own neighborhood, filled with flowering front yards and sweet and cheery brick homes, rough and dirty bikers seemed a million miles away. She smiled, scooping Emily up and swinging her around, before placing her on her hip. She grabbed her bag, hit the button on her keychain to lock the car, and then started up the walk. “What treasures did you discover today?”
She listened happily to Emily as her daughter babbled on about everything from the ducks at the park to what the mailman had brought that day, and all about the new pink fabric she’d helped Mrs. Bryan pick out. Tomorrow, they were going to sew cushion covers together, with lots of sparkles. Ava chuckled at the idea. If her daughter had her way, their entire house, as well as probably now Mrs. Bryan’s too, would be decked out in shiny beads and sequins. Emily’s eyes sparkled as brightly as her “jewels” while she recounted all that she’d chosen, and Emily leaned down and kissed her daughter’s head, inhaling the wonderful scent of baby shampoo and talcum powder. God, she was lucky. She smiled. Screw the bikers. They were an unfortunate part of one day at work, nothing more. Here, this was what made life all worth it. She walked into her house and closed the door, never looking back.
Vengeance (Steel Kings MC Book 3) Page 4
