Moto Page 4

  “A few days? I don’t know how you’re ever going to survive,” I heckle him. “And to be forced to spend time with your estranged twin brother. The travesty.” I stab myself in the chest.

  “Shut the fuck up. You know I never have an issue seeing you.”

  “When you need something,” I toss in.

  “Aw, fuck off. And that’s not entirely true.”

  “Isn’t it? I haven’t seen you in months.”

  “That’s because I’ve been working. You know, racing all over the world,” he states the obvious.

  “Excuses, excuses.”

  “I’m still trying to figure out why you moved back to this hellhole in the first place.”

  I shrug. “It’s home.”

  “It’s the middle of fucking nowhere.”

  “Maybe I like nowhere.”

  “Easier to conceal all your kinky kinks,” he baits.

  “Shut up,” I snap a little too defensively.

  Reese makes a gun with his hand and fires. “Bull’s-eye.”

  I groan. “That has nothing to do with shit, and if you don’t zip it, I’m going to put you in a medically-induced coma.”

  “Wonder what that hot nurse would think of your kinks.”

  “Reese. Last warning. And leave Kayla out of it.”

  “Or does she already know? Did you hit that already?” He raises his eyebrows lewdly. “Dominate the shit out of her, did you?”

  “Forget the coma. I’m just going to smother you with a pillow.”

  “It’s nothing to be ashamed of, bro. Nothin’ better than a woman on her knees.”

  “Look,” I nip the conversation in the bud, “just behave. Okay?”

  “Is that what you tell Nurse Kincade, Master?”

  Ugh.

  So I like a little kink. So what? And I like to be dominant. So what?

  I’ve never had any complaints. I wouldn’t exactly call myself a Dom. Just a man who knows what he likes. Which is making beautiful women come on my command. I usually don’t mind bantering with Reese about my sexual proclivities, but as soon as he brought Kayla into it, I needed to shut the conversation down. One whiff that I’m into her and I’ll never hear the end of it, especially since I’ve yet to seal the deal.

  Yet being the operative word.

  I circle my fingertip mindlessly around the rim of my coffee cup, unable to get my mind off Dev. I keep deliberating as to whether to give him an honest-to-God chance. Part of me wants to. A very strong part of me. But the rest of me knows it would be a huge mistake. Just let me count the ways: we work together, we work together, we work together, and oh, he’s a biker. And what’s my one cardinal rule? No bikers. Yet, here I am, seriously considering going out with the hot piece of man I dream about religiously.

  “You look very lost in thought.” My aunt slips into the booth seat across from me. We meet for breakfast at Lou’s Diner whenever our schedules allow. It’s close to both the hospital and the precinct and has the best greasy home fries in the county.

  “I am very lost in thought.” I drop my chin into my hand.

  “Uh-oh. Who is he?” The waitress, Hettie, pours my aunt a cup of coffee without her even having to ask. “Morning, Detective,” she adds cheerfully.

  “Morning.” Sam flashes a smile at the middle-aged woman but keeps her main focus on me. She’s dressed in her usual uniform—- a black pantsuit, with her dark-brown hair pulled back in a low, tight bun.

  “Am I that translucent?”

  My aunt shrugs one shoulder. “I’m a cop. I read people. I’m also your surrogate mother, so yes, you’re as clear as a piece of glass.”

  “Damn.”

  “So what’s the issue?” She pours some cream into her coffee and stirs.

  “We work together.”

  She stops mid-stir. Not a good sign. “I would advise not to do it.”

  “Because he’s a manwhore?” There’s no point in beating around the bush; she knows exactly whom I’m talking about. He was practically humping me in front of her the other night.

  “There’s that, yes.” She purses her lips. “But, honey, I think you should steer clear of all the bikers in this town. Even if they are a doctor.”

  That response sounds more like the detective talking than my aunt.

  “Why are you suddenly changing your tune?” I probe. “You were telling me to offer myself up on a silver platter the other night.”

  She glances around the room. It’s barely seven a.m., and the place is virtually empty.

  “Someone has been dealing dirty drugs,” she relays in a low tone. “Seven ODs in the last month alone. Bad heroin with the same insignia on the bag. A motorcycle wheel. We’re trying to find the source.”

  “And you think it’s a local?”

  She shrugs. “You know this place; drugs run rampant through all the trailer park compounds. It’s easy to distribute low-quality, high-priced junk to a community of crackheads.”

  “I saw it every day I worked in the ER. Drug addiction and motorcycle accidents were the main attraction.” It’s part of the reason I became a per diem nurse. I liked the action, but the severity of every injury started to weigh on me. Too much blood and bad reminders.

  “So you understand why I’m telling you this?” she asks.

  I nod.

  “I would hate for you to get wrapped up in anything, even if it was only by association.”

  “Well, you make a compelling argument to sway me to the no side,” I contemplate.

  “But?” She sips her coffee, peering at me over the rim of the chipped white cup.

  “No but,” I lie.

  “Clear as glass,” she reminds me.

  I huff. “I’m definitely attracted to him.”

  “I can see why. Young, good looking, smart . . . And he doesn’t have a record.”

  “How do you know what? Did you do a background check?”

  “After the way I saw you two the other night, I thought it couldn’t hurt.”

  “Seriously?” I splay my hands on the tabletop.

  “I’m basically your mother. It’s my job to protect you.”

  “You mean overprotect me?”

  “However you want to interpret it.” She smirks darkly.

  “I’m twenty-six-years-old. Maybe it can just be semi-protect now?”

  “You can be one-hundred-and-twenty-six-years-old, and I will always be overprotective. When you’re a mother, you’ll understand.”

  “I guess it could be worse. You could not care at all.” I can’t tell you how many kids I knew growing up whose parents couldn’t give a shit about them. Didn’t feed them, clothe them, or even care when they were arrested at age twelve for stealing or doing drugs. It’s just the plight of this forgotten area. Redneck riches, a bottle of moonshine, and a police record a mile long.

  “That’s true. Just use your head, okay? Promise me.”

  “I will.”

  After the most fattening breakfast ever of fried eggs and greasy home fries, I pull into the parking garage of Mercy Medical. I’m going to have to run ten extra miles after work to burn off breakfast.

  I hop out of my truck five pounds heavier and head to the elevators. As I approach them, what sounds like barking echoes in the nearly empty garage.

  What the fuck?

  I walk faster down the pavement, listening to the aggressive attack get louder and louder. It sounds like a kennel in here. As I turn the blind corner, I come to find Dr. Lipschitz being harassed by two men baying at him like savage dogs. I can’t see their faces, but I can see Dr. Lipschitz’s and the blatant terror in his eyes. He looks like he’s about to shit himself, pressed up against the brick wall.

  “Leave me alone!” he yelps, petrified.

  I get a small amount of satisfaction from the show, considering he’s a fucking asshole, but know my conscience will eat away at me if I just leave him to the wolves, literally speaking.

  “Hey!” I bellow from behind the two men. They both turn.
They’re starkly different—one a tall African-American man with knots twisted all over his head, and the other is a shorter, stockier white guy with a teardrop tattoo under his eye. “Beat it!” I snap. “Go do the world a favor and play in some traffic or something!”

  They both stare silently, amusement almost alight in their eyes.

  The short one cackles insanely, and I take a step back. “You’re cute,” he sputters with a twitch.

  You’re scary.

  I stand with my defenses up, awaiting their next move. I may only be five-foot-four and one hundred twenty-five pounds, but I’m armed with pepper spray and not afraid to blind their savage asses.

  If it comes down to that. Hopefully not.

  “Be out.” The tall and, frankly, intimidating black man shoves his partner. Teardrop nods. But before they take their leave, they turn to Dr. Lipschitz and verbally attack him once more, barking viciously as they hop on their sports bikes. Dr. Lipschitz just stands there horrified as they rev their engines, the sound deafening, and then speed away.

  I roll my eyes. Idiots.

  “Are you okay?” I walk swiftly to Dr. Lipschitz. The older man with thinning hair and permanent scowl barely acknowledges me.

  “Heathens!” he spits, then disappears into the stairwell.

  I just stand there, shocked.

  You’re freakin’ welcome, asshole.

  I huff into the stairwell behind him and climb the stairs utterly annoyed. Where is the gratitude?

  Once I get settled into work, I look at the roster and decide to check on the surliest patient on the planet first. Rip the bandage off, so to speak, so all the bullshit is behind me for the morning.

  When I enter Reese’s room, I stop short. Along with Dev, the two heathens from earlier are standing by his bedside.

  “Nurse Kincade. We were just talking about you,” Reese relays with a deceptive undertone.

  “Oh, really? I can’t image why.” I cross my arms and glare at the two men.

  They both actually have the audacity to smile at me.

  “I should have guessed they were friends of yours.”

  “What gave it away? The bikes?” Reese asks.

  “No. The bestial behavior.”

  “We just don’t take kindly to the abuse of power.” The tall, muscled, mocha-colored man speaks. His eyes as black as ink.

  “So you thought it would be a good idea to poke the snake with the stick? Is that it?” I pin Reese and Dev with a heated stare.

  “We can’t control the things that happen outside these walls,” Dev adds deviously.

  I think he’s the guiltiest of all. He’s the medical professional. He should be level-headed, trying to deter things like this from happening instead of encouraging them.

  “You know Dr. Lipschitz is going to cause a stink, right? Especially if he finds out you helped orchestrate it, Dev.”

  “I didn’t orchestrate anything.” He plays innocent.

  “Dr. Dipshit isn’t going to do jack. We left a dead rat on his windshield as a warning. He’ll get the message,” Reese informs me darkly.

  “Are you kidding me!? The four of you are just looking for trouble.”

  “I have to do something to occupy my time while I’m confined to this bed. And what’s more fun than trouble?”

  “I can name at least twenty things off the top of my head.”

  “You should try thanking us instead of getting annoyed,” Reese says arrogantly. “We were defending your honor.”

  My blood boils. My honor? Why is everyone trying to protect me lately? What is this? The Middle Ages?

  “Thank you . . .” I respond sharply, not the least bit thankful at all. He smiles smugly, but I’m not finished. “Thank you for stirring the shit pot a little harder,” I snap.

  His expression hardens. “I do what I can.” He dismisses my anger, further infuriating me.

  I glare at Dev. He seems to be on Reese’s side, not remorseful at all.

  I guess a medical degree doesn’t really set you apart from the rest of the immature idiots. My expectations of him were clearly too high.

  “Reese, you can entertain yourself all you want, just keep me out of it.”

  “Nothing will blow back on you,” Dev assures me.

  “It better not.” I don’t know what pisses me off more, the fact they took matters into their own hands or Dr. Lipschitz’s complete lack of gratitude after I stepped in.

  This place sometimes, I swear.

  I glance at the four faces before me, unexpectedly swaying to their side. I curve one corner of my mouth up. “You should’ve put the rat on his desk. More people would’ve heard him scream.”

  All four faces light up.

  This. Blows.

  I watch the sunset through the windows as another wasted day fades away. The horizon lights up orange and red as I lie here incapacitated, hating life. I don’t do sedentary well. To be perfectly honest, I’m not comfortable staying in one place for very long. It’s not my style. I’m an expeditionist. If I’m not tearing it up on a racetrack, I’m climbing mountains in Italy or surfing in Bali. Being trapped here is stifling. It’s been four days, and I’m already going stir crazy. I don’t know how I’m going to fucking handle the next three months.

  I shift on the stone slab of a mattress, my muscles already stiff from lack of significant movement. The farthest I’ve gone is to the bathroom and back. At least, I can take a piss by myself now that the stupid catheter is gone.

  I huff beyond irritated as I grab for the remote, sending the entire rolling table flying across the room. “Fuck! 5–4–3–2–1.” I count backward to keep from screaming.

  “Having some issues?” Kayla laughs as she rolls the table back across the room.

  “You could say that. Where did you come from?”

  “Over there.” She thumbs at the door. “I didn’t want to interrupt the show.”

  “You saw all that, huh? Get off on spying on people?”

  “I have to do something to keep me occupied while I’m here.” She throws my words right back in my face. It actually causes my lip to twitch. She’s a fucking smartass. A smartass with a fine ass.

  Why do I instantly feel better when she’s around?

  Probably because you’re horny as hell and she’s a thousand times better looking than the night nurse, Jabba the Hutt.

  “What are you doing here, anyway? Isn’t your shift over?” I ask grouchily.

  She shrugs one shoulder, almost flirtatiously. “Picked up a night shift. One of the other nurses had a family emergency.”

  “Twenty-four hours? Rough.”

  “Yeah. But the money is amazing, and I can sleep all day tomorrow.”

  “Must be nice. I haven’t slept in days.”

  “Is that why you’re such a crank?”

  “I’m a fucking crank because my season is ruined, I’m injured, and I’m exiled in nowhere Maryland.”

  “Didn’t you grow up here?” she questions.

  “Yeah, so?”

  “I’ve just never met anyone who despised his roots as much as you do.”

  “You must not travel much.”

  “I’ve been to the Bahamas.”

  I roll my eyes. “My point exactly. I’ve seen the world. I know what’s out there. This place is a shithole.”

  “Dev doesn’t seem to mind it.”

  “Well, what the hell does he know?” I stare straight ahead. It’s a rhetorical question. A nasty one, but rhetorical nonetheless.

  “I guess not as much as you,” Kayla retorts sharply.

  I dart my eyes up to meet hers. She stares back at me formidably. I’m self-centered, I’ll admit, but I’m not used to women talking to me like this. Usually, they’re falling all over me, submitting to my every whim, but her brashness is sort of turning me on.

  “I’d love to see you on a bike. I bet you’d tear it up.”

  She actually turns pale. “I’ll pass.” Her whole demeanor changes in a nanosecond. Strik
e a chord, did I?

  “You don’t like bikes?” I prod.

  “I don’t like bikers,” she clarifies shortly.

  Ouch.

  “A woman scorned, huh?”

  She stares at me pointedly. “Not exactly.”

  “Then what is it? No need for speed?”

  She sighs as she fiddles with my equipment and does whatever the fuck it is nurses do.

  “I’m just not into the whole biker thing.”

  “Then what are you into?”

  “Working out. I like to work out.” Her answer is clipped.

  “What a coincidence. I also like to work out.” I smile suggestively.

  Kayla doesn’t seem to buy into my charms, but I pursue it anyway. “Maybe we can work out together sometime.” I put my hand on her thigh.

  She raises an eyebrow at me.

  “Mr. Dane, if you feel like you need to stretch your legs, please feel free to take a walk. Right off a cliff.” She brushes my hand away.

  Whoa.

  “I would kill to see you on the back of my bike.”

  “You have an imagination. Use it,” she returns curtly.

  What the fuck? She’s rude as hell, and all it does is turn me the fuck on. “I have. Baby, I think the only thing hotter than you straddling me is you straddling my bike.”

  Kayla pauses all movements. I press my head into my pillow because I’m pretty sure she’s going to slap me.

  To my surprise, she just shakes her head and laughs. “You’re as bad as your brother.”

  “Because we’re both compulsive flirts?”

  “Flirts? Try compulsive players.”

  “We do share the exact same DNA.”

  Kayla just huffs. “Is there anything you need before I go? I have seven other patients I need to see.”

  I have a laundry list of things I need from Kayla. I wasn’t kidding about her straddling me.

  “I’m good for now,” I lie.

  “If you need anything, you know what to do.”

  “Yup. Ring, ring.” I watch her strut out of the room, her slim hips and tight ass on full display.

  It’s three a.m. and I’ve done nothing but toss and turn. My mind won’t turn off. I just keep thinking and thinking and thinking. About the accident, about racing, about my career, about my life, and surprisingly, about Kayla.