Her lids flicker but they don’t open. I pick up her hand—a dead weight, so warm, yet so devoid of life. I lean over and press my lips to her skin.
“I couldn’t fuckin’ breathe when he told me they’d targeted you last night. My first thought wasn’t about my wife, or any one of my club brothers—it was of you. I don’t know what the fuck I’m supposed to do here, darlin’. I got a bitch who’s gonna take me to the cleaners if I so much as mention the word divorce, and not only that, but she knows too fuckin’ much. One wrong move and every brother in this club goes to prison for life.”
Her fingers twitch in mine. Raine’s lids crack open and those pretty blues that I get to see first thing every morning when she brings me a coffee and muffin are sleepy and bloodshot. “I missed you.”
My brows shoot skyward. She blinks several times, long and slow, and each one gets longer.
“I missed you too, darlin’.”
“Don’t let me go,” she mumbles before falling back to sleep.
I don’t know if she means don’t let go of her hand, her job, or the idea of having her in my bed and on the back of my bike, but I find myself making promises I know I can’t keep.
RAINE
“SHH, YOU’LL WAKE HER,” Indie whispers from beside my bed.
I blink, shifting on the mattress. Everything hurts, and my brain is foggy. I lift my arm and pain lances through it from fingertip to shoulder. I rub my eyes with the heel of my good hand.
Kick fills the doorway. “Shit, sorry. Didn’t mean to wake you, Raine. I was just seeing if I could borrow my old lady for a bit.”
“No, I’m not talking to you.” Indie glares at her boyfriend.
“Come on, babe. It was a joke.”
“Well, it wasn’t funny.”
Kick’s mouth tips up in a lopsided grin. “Not even a little bit?”
“No, but you know what is? That you’re not getting any for a whole month.”
“Goddamn it, Indie.” He kicks the door with his motorcycle boot.
“What happened? Is everyone okay?” I ask.
Kick opens his mouth, but Indie holds up a hand to silence him and turns to me. “Everyone’s fine. Jett’s pissed about the huge hole in the clubhouse gate, but everyone’s alive and well.”
“Thank God.”
“How you feeling?”
“Like I got run over by a Mack truck.”
“Well, sliding off a bike at high speed, getting crushed by a biker, and almost blown up will do that to you.”
“You sound like you’ve had experience.”
“Oh, I have. I’ve been living with this idiot for the last six months.”
“Good point.” I try to shift on the bed but find it takes two arms to move my whole body, and at present, I only have one. Oh God. Jett’s going to fire me. “I’m going to lose my job.”
“You’re not going to lose your job.”
“I can’t clean. I can’t serve drinks, or even cook properly with my arm in this stupid thing.” I lift the broken appendage in question and a sharp bolt of pain spears my forearm and bicep right up to my shoulder. Great.
“Jett won’t fire you, Raine. Kick, tell her.”
“Prez isn’t likely to fire you. Besides, your mouth’s not broken.” He shrugs. “You can still clean his cock.”
“Out!” Indie shouts, hurtling a pillow toward him.
Kick dodges and throws his old lady a wink. “And speaking of mouths.”
“So help me God, Biker, if you finish that sentence ...”
He chuckles darkly and exits the room. “Feel better soon, Raine.”
I just smile and shake my head. Indie really is the best thing that ever happened to that man.
“God, he’s such a pig,” she says.
“He loves you though.”
“I know.” It’s her turn to shake her head. “I don’t know why I love him back, but I do.”
“You make a really cute couple.”
“Thanks, I think?”
“Yeah. I’m suddenly not so sure that’s a compliment either.” I laugh. “Maybe I should say you bring out the best in him?”
“Oh, that’s a good one. I like that way better.” She leans forward in her seat. “So, you about ready to get up and shower?”
“God yes. I need to pee so bad it’s not even funny.”
AFTER GETTING CLEAN with Indie’s help—something I apologised for profusely—I’m feeling better. My hair is freshly washed, I have clean clothes that Ivy has given me, and while they’re a little revealing for my tastes, I’m grateful for them all the same.
When I’m halfway decent, I exit the room. The clubhouse is noisy, but then again, it always is. With this many bodies though, the din is almost painful.
“And she’s up!” Crazy yells when he sees me. He’s surrounded by bikers, playing some kind of card game—poker, if I had to guess—and he slams his hand down on the table, unsettling the chips and beer glasses.
I give a little wave and glance around the room. Jett sits in a recliner with a tall brunette on his lap. Every inch of her looks expensive, from her dark, glossy locks to her designer heels. I feel like a grubby child by comparison. This must be his wife, Mia. She’s lovely, though the death stare she gives me is anything but. Her brown eyes narrow and spear me with a look that says I’m beneath her, and I shouldn’t forget it. I glance at her husband, whose hands are digging into her hips. His ice-blue gaze watches me, but there’s none of the usual friendliness in them. Tears prick my eyes and I swallow the lump in my throat. I’m just about to tell Indie that I’m not feeling well and head back to my room when Grim comes out of the hall opposite and a choked cry escapes me. I run to him, crushing myself against his side to avoid injuring my arm. It stings anyway, and he grunts. I’ve hurt him too.
“I’m so sorry.” I glance up at him. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“It’s okay, babe. Just a little tender around the kidneys—had some body mod work done by a bomb.”
I try to pull away, but he tugs me closer, engulfing me in his huge arms. I laugh and press my face against the clean cotton covering his chest. “Surprisingly, I know what that feels like.”
“I’m so fucking sorry you got hurt. I tried to protect you, but I ended up breaking your arm and getting you all banged up instead.”
I glance up at him. “You saved my life, Grim. More than once. I’m just sorry you got hurt in the process.”
“I’d go to ground for you, babe. I’m surprised you don’t know that by now.”
I close my eyes and swallow hard. When I glance up, the pain in his gaze is so intense it brings tears to mine. Maybe it’s the fact that I’ve been shot at, had a gun held to my head, and been half blown up. Or perhaps it’s because I finally unburdened my soul by telling Grim about Joshua, or that Jett’s wife is sitting across the room in his lap, and I can feel both sets of eyes boring into mine. In fact, I can feel everyone in the room staring at the two of us.