Moto Page 3

  God, two of them. That’s just fuckin’ unfair to the entire female population and their lady bits.

  After my shower, I climb into bed completely naked, too tired to even bother with clothes. I drift off, trying not to dream of Dev. It’s a futile attempt, because as soon as I fall asleep, his face appears in front of mine. I can practically smell the scent of his skin and feel the touch of his fingers as he silently seduces me. In my dreams, I always succumb, inviting his advances, welcoming his hungry kisses and demanding touch. I let the friction of our bodies ignite and give in to the burning desire. I let him take me, control me, overpower me, because, in my dreams, I can be everything he wants without reservation, and he can be everything I need without risk.

  I wake up to an obnoxious ringing sound and wetness coating the inside of my thighs.

  I grab for my house phone, nearly knocking it right off the nightstand.

  “Hello?” I answer groggily in the dark.

  “Kayla, it’s me.”

  “Sam?”

  “I was called into work. Another OD.”

  “Another one? That’s like the third this month.”

  “Yes, another one,” she replies grimly. “Scottie is going to pick you up and take you to your car. I would’ve texted you . . .”

  “ . . . But my phone is in my truck. Got it.”

  “Sorry to wake you. Maybe we can meet for a run later?”

  “Sounds good.” I yawn. And tell me what the hell is going on. Sam isn’t supposed to share official police business but confiding in me is like talking to a priest. Complete confidentiality.

  “Go back to bed,” she instructs. Always authoritative, no matter the circumstance.

  “I’m almost afraid,” I mumble, rubbing my sticky thighs together.

  “What was that?”

  “Nothing, I’m just rambling. Tired.”

  Silence. Sam is never going to buy that BS.

  “Okay, then,” she replies warily. “I’ll talk to you later . . .”

  “Looking forward to it.” I yawn again and hang up the phone.

  I close my eyes, attempting to fall back asleep, but the images immediately start to play. Bare chest, strong hands, and an insistent mouth.

  If these fantasies keep up, I may not be able to be held accountable for my sleep-deprived actions.

  Damn you, Devlin Dane.

  My life as I know it is over.

  I fall into a depression on the most uncomfortable mattress I’ve ever laid on. And that’s saying a lot, because I’ve stayed in some pretty slummy motels where the cockroaches had better sleeping arrangements.

  I’ve crashed on a motorcycle umpteen times at over one hundred eighty-five miles per hour, slid across asphalt into padded walls and stacked tyres, and walked away with nothing more than a few bumps and bruises. But take a fucking Sunday drive down a nearly desolate interstate road, and I get fucking rear-ended by the only drunk douchebag in a hundred-mile radius. I slam my fist down like a hammer on the crappy bed. I’m twenty-nine-years-old, past my prime with only a few good competitive years left, and this shit happens during one of my best seasons ever. If I ever meet that driver face-to-face, he better be prepared. Fucking good-for-nothing piece of trash.

  I barely ever come home, and this is just a reminder why. This fucking area is the pits. A wasteland I escaped from a long time ago. I’ll never understand why Dev moved back. He’s a glutton for punishment, I’m convinced. He had it all—big city doctor living the life, then he gets a job offer here and jumps at it. Why?

  A quick visit and I’m condemned right along with him. I may live like a nomad abroad, but at least I’m living and away from this friggin’ depressing place. Or, at least, I was.

  I’ve been in this hospital for twenty-four hours, and I already feel like a caged animal. I need out. I adjust myself on the bed. My leg is imprisoned in a cast, and my fucking shoulder is killing me. It’s like a constant throb the morphine just laughs at. I hit the button furiously if only to relieve some frustration. This sucks. Worse than sucks.

  The only sliver of a silver lining is Dev was able to get me moved to a private room in his wing of the hospital. It’s much nicer and much quieter. Makes it easier to brood when no one is ogling you.

  “And how is the patient doing this morning?” The nurse Dev was practically salivating over last night sings brightly. What was her name again?

  I scowl. I’m in no mood for cheerful. I want miserable.

  “Wonderful.” The sarcasm in my tone could vibrate a city street.

  She looks at me almost condescendingly, like she has an opinion, yet, somehow, masks it with her sweet demeanor.

  “Try and look at the bright side.”

  “Which is?” I question callously.

  “You’re not roadkill.” She smiles condescendingly.

  I glare up at her as she fiddles with all the crap hooked up to me. “You’ll ride another day. I’ve seen more senseless lives taken than I care to admit,” she rambles as she scribbles on the whiteboard. I don’t really pay attention to what she’s saying, but I do pay attention to her tight ass. It bubbles under her pink scrubs. It makes me wonder what else she’s hiding under the unflattering outfit. I bet she’d look killer in a pair of leather pants. My imagination starts to run wild. I not only picture what she’d look like in them, but I also picture what she’d look like as I peel her out of them.

  “Mr. Dane. Mr. Dane?” I hear my name and snap out of my explicit daydream. I was just getting to the good part. Her dropping to her knees.

  “Huh?”

  “Are you okay? You checked out on me for a second.” She takes my wrist and checks my pulse. I shift uncomfortably from the contact, and the fact I actually like it. I yank my hand away as soon as she’s done.

  “I’m fine . . . sorry, what was your name again?”

  “Kayla. Kayla Kincade.” The nurse stares down at me with big brown eyes flecked with gold. She’s hot, there’s no denying it, and I decide right here and now that she’ll be my entertainment while I’m sentenced to this hospital bed. A man needs a project. Maybe some kind of payback for that roadkill comment. Smartass. Fine ass. I nearly break my neck as she bends over to pick something up off the floor. My suspicions were correct; she has one tight posterior. I just got a bird’s-eye view of a perfect, heart-shaped backside. I might’ve actually gotten an erection if I didn’t have this damn catheter shoved in my dick.

  “If you need anything, hit the button.”

  “I need to get the fuck out of here,” I reply irritably. “Can you help me with that?”

  “Only if I have discharge papers.”

  “Can we forge some?”

  “Maybe we can just pass you off as Dev and sneak you out.”

  Now, this chick is talking.

  “Sounds like a plan. What do we need?” I perk up.

  Kayla crosses her arms haughtily. “Me, nothing. You, a medical degree and two working legs.”

  “Ugh.” I bang my head on the pillow. Fucking cock tease.

  “Face it, moto. You’re stuck with me for a while.”

  I swipe my eyes up to hers. I like this girl. She’s got spunk.

  “I guess there could be worse people to be stuck with. At least you’re easy on the eyes.”

  “I do what I can, where I can.” She breathes out sardonically.

  “I have a few things you can do,” I blatantly insinuate.

  She straightens her stance. “I think I’ve done plenty already, don’t you?” She gets testy, most definitely insinuating she saved my sorry ass.

  “I’m an indulgent kind of guy. Enough is never enough.”

  “I believe it.” Kayla glances around the room. It looks like a florist threw up in here. Big bright flower arrangements pour over every flat surface. A few from my managers and sponsors, but a majority are from adoring fans. Female fans.

  What can I say; I’m a popular guy, on and off the track. I’ve been blessed with exceptional hand-eye coordina
tion, and I’m intelligent enough to use it in a multitude of ways.

  This guy is an egotistical gearhead with motor oil for brains. As if I would do anything besides take his vitals. I’m not saying I need it, but at the very least, some gratitude for saving his stinkin’ life would be, if nothing more, polite.

  In the twenty-four plus hours I’ve known him, I’m positive if he wasn’t chained to that hospital bed, he’d be walking around like a fucking peacock. Ear-piercing mating call and all.

  The audacity of some people. World fame can really bring out the best, I see. I inwardly scowl. As much as I’d like to tell Reese Dane where he can stick that cocky attitude, I’ll maintain my professional façade. If for no other reason than to avoid a blemish on my record, or worse, being fired altogether.

  “I’ll leave you alone with your suggestive thoughts.” I update the whiteboard just as Dr. Lipschitz enters the room. Perfect. He’s just as big an asshole as his patient is; they should hit it off beautifully.

  Before I can escape, Dr. Lipschitz motions for me to stay.

  Fuck. I know why; he’s going to examine Reese’s thigh wound and make sure everything is copacetic.

  Too bad he can’t sew his mouth shut while he’s at it.

  The doctor and I flank Reese’s bed as he pulls his gown up to look at the stitches. As much as I would love to look anyplace else other than Reese Dane’s inner thigh, I find myself grossly intrigued with his muscular physique and complex tattoo.

  “Miss Kincade, would you mind doing more than just ogling the patient?” Dr. Lipschitz sneers.

  “I’m sorry, Doctor, is there something specific you would like me to do? My mind-reading abilities are off today.”

  Reese smirks as Dr. Lipschitz glares at me. He’s the last doctor in this hospital whose bad side you want to be on, but Reese already has my irritability meter redlining.

  “I would like you to do your job and assist me, instead of acting like a lecherous adolescent,” he snaps, and I almost lose it. But before I can snap back, Reese interjects.

  “You better check yourself, doc. That’s no way to talk to a female.” His eyes are sinisterly dark. We both look at him. Me, shocked; Dr. Lipschitz, pissed off.

  “Mr. Dane, I would advise you to butt out of things that are beyond your comprehension. I work here on a daily basis, you don’t. Incompetence runs amuck.” Dr. Lipschitz achieves insulting Reese and me in one statement.

  “Let me advise you, Dr . . .” Reese glances at his lab coat, “Dipshit. If you ever come into this room again and disrespect me or my nurse like you just did, I’m going to give you a hands-on lesson in bedside manner.” Reese actually tries to get out of bed and grab Dr. Lipschitz.

  “Mr. Dane.” I attempt to push him down, but he’s built like a brick shit house, and my effort does next to nothing to stop him.

  “Now, get the fuck out of here before I have your patronizing ass fired!” Reese snarls viciously. Dr. Lipschitz stumbles back, legitimately spooked.

  I stand between the patient and doctor, both riled up for their own reasons. I feel Reese’s rapid heartbeat under my fingertips.

  “Please calm down,” I whisper, earnestly. “It won’t be good for anyone if this escalates.”

  Surprisingly, the rabid pit bull my patient just became backs down.

  “Listen to the doltish nurse.” Dr. Dipshit pulls at the lapel of his lab coat, irked.

  We both regard him puzzled.

  “It means brainless,” he huffs. “Buy a dictionary.” With that, he turns and vacates the room.

  I sag. “I save your life, and you try to get me fired?”

  “Get you fired? That guy is a douchebag. You should say thank you for defending you.”

  “I don’t need you to defend me. I ignore him. We all do. He’s an asshole. But he’s excellent at what he does, and if you haven’t noticed, we aren’t in the middle of a metropolis. Good doctors are hard to come by.”

  “So you just let him belittle you?” Reese argues, disgusted.

  “It seems people in a position of power get that right.” I pin him with an accusing look.

  “I never belittled you,” he objects, insulted.

  “No, you’re just an ungrateful asshole. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go intercept a grievance. If you need anything, buzz.”

  I storm out of the room.

  Fuck.

  I barely make it to my manager’s office before Dev grabs hold of me.

  “What’s the problem, speed racer?” He detects my unrest.

  “Your brother is the problem,” I fume.

  “Reese? How much trouble can he be? He’s strapped to a bed.”

  “How much? An entire confrontation with Dr. Lipschitz just erupted in his room.”

  “About what?” His grip on my upper arm gets tighter.

  “David was being his usual self.” It’s pretty much all I have to say, and Dev understands.

  “And Reese didn’t like it?” he questions.

  “Nope. Not one bit. I think if he could stand up, Dr. Lipschitz would need a doctor.”

  “Probably an entire surgical team.” He sighs, dragging me a little closer. My pulse starts to rise. We’re too close, standing too intimately in a work environment, but I can’t bring myself to pull away. “Okay, I’ll talk him. Both of them. We’ll smooth it over.”

  “It needs to happen fast. I don’t want a letter of reprimand in my file,” I emphasize the urgency.

  “No one wants that. I’ll take care of it. Promise.” His voice is a seductive solace.

  I exhale heavily. “Thank you.”

  Dev smiles, an adorable dimple popping out in his cheek. “Welcome.” He swipes a loose strand of hair away from my face. “Are you busy this weekend?”

  The conversation just took a drastic turn.

  “Maybe. Why?”

  “Because I thought we could hang out. Get some dinner, go for a ride?”

  I step back. “Dev, I don’t think . . .”

  “C’mon, Kayla, when are you going to give me a chance? You don’t want to get on the bike? Fine. I have a car.”

  I look up at him conflicted. “I just don’t think it’s a good idea. We’re coworkers.”

  “So what?”

  “So, it’s against policy to fraternize.”

  “Are you serious? Half the staff is either married or fooling around,” he argues.

  “Yes, and you would know that considering you’ve done the most fooling around,” I stress vehemently.

  “Is that what you’re afraid of? Being temporary?”

  “I’m not afraid of being temporary. I’m afraid of being a flash of lightning. You don’t even seem capable of temporary.”

  Dev crowds me. “I guess you’ll never know what I’m capable of if you don’t give me a chance.” His tone is as suggestive as his brother’s. His eyes burning with preeminence as they bore into mine.

  I peer back at him, but I feel my resolve wavering. What would it be like to have him look at me like that behind closed doors? My pulse races from just the secret question alone.

  “Can we please just deal with one sticky situation before we take on another one?”

  Dev’s expression perks up. “Are you telling me you’re not opposed to getting sticky?”

  “I’m telling you I’m opposed to getting fired and being someone’s cheap date.” I sidestep, answering honestly, because no, quite frankly, I’m not afraid to get sticky.

  “Noted. We’ll continue this conversation later.” He pulls out his phone and reads a message. “I’m needed.” He winks and then walks off.

  I fall against the wall, sapped. Did I just agree to get sticky with Devlin Dane?

  I whistle down the hallway, devising the perfect plan to lure Kayla onto my bike and then into my bed. With most women, it’s easy—I just blow and their panties go poof. Not with Kayla, though. She’s the north wind to my autumn breeze. It’s what drew me to her automatically. Her tenacity. It’s easy to adopt a
kitten; it’s a whole other thing to tame a wild cat. And I have no doubt that in the bedroom Kayla is as wild as they come.

  “Twenty-four hours and you’re already causing problems.” I stroll into Reese’s room. He’s in the exact same position I left him. Miserable. Speaking of untamed animals, my brother is the leader of the pack.

  “She told you it was my fault, didn’t she?” He’s instantly defensive.

  “No, she told me Dr. Lipschitz was being a douche and you intervened.” I fudge the truth.

  “Why don’t I believe you?”

  “Because you’re a shady, cynical bastard who doesn’t trust a soul. Even his own brother.”

  “You know that’s not true,” Reese gripes.

  “Okay, yeah. I embellished the last part. You trust me with your life.”

  And all your dirty secrets.

  “So are you here to scold me or what?”

  “Scold you? No. You’re beyond discipline.”

  “You would know, sir,” he digs, like the insolent teenager he is.

  I ignore his comment and continue. “I’m here to implore you to be nice to the staff. They’re here to help you. Not hurt you.”

  Reese shifts uncomfortably. “I hate being here.”

  “I know, but you have nothing to worry about.”

  “I always have something to worry about.” He eyes me guardedly.

  “Not now. You know I would never let anything jeopardize your career.”

  “I’ve learned fate is out of both of our hands.”

  “I’m a doctor. I know how to play God. Just trust me, okay? Get well, and then you can get out.”

  Reese nods reluctantly.

  “I’m working on getting you moved out of here. You’ll stay with me. I’ll hire a home nurse, and you can recuperate in private. That’s really what I came to tell you.”

  “How soon can that happen?” Reese actually gets excited.

  “I’m working on it. A few days max.”

  “That sounds like an eternity.” His excitement instantaneously deflates.