Chapter Two.
Oakley
T errified, I woke with a scream lodged in my throat and agonising pain in my feet. Whimpers escaped as I mindlessly sought the bottle of Tylenol that Harley had left. Tears streamed down my face as I groped and found the light switch.
Hitting it, I blinked and shrieked as the motel door opened.
“Oakley, calm down, it’s me,” Harley announced, and I gasped in relief. Then tensed. Why was Harley in my bedroom?
“I’m next door, and you woke me. First, you were crying, and then you screamed. I guessed you were either having a nightmare or were in pain,” Harley said as he walked to the bottom of the bed.
Without a word, Harley snatched the tube of numbing cream and grabbed my foot. Gently, he began slathering my feet up, and I groaned in relief as I wiped tears away.
“Take two more Tylenol,” Harley ordered.
A little grumpily and wanting to tell Harley what he could do with his orders, I took the tablets. Harley finished and checked the other and repeated his actions.
“Do you need the toilet?” Harley asked, and I nodded, embarrassed. He swooped me up and, carried me into the bathroom and stepped outside, shutting the door. “Shout when you’re done.”
Bright red, I pulled my sweats and underwear down and peed. Jesus, twenty-three years old and I needed a guy to take me to the toilet. I could crawl under a rock and live there for the rest of my life.
I cleaned myself, washed my hands, and yanked everything back into place.
“Harley,” I squeaked, and seconds later, the door opened, and he scooped me up.
Harley settled me on the bed and climbed in silently.
I went rigid.
“Oakley, I don’t force myself on women, but I ain’t going to rest with you screaming. Cuddle up and go to sleep,” Harley ordered as he laid down.
“Harley, I can’t snuggle up. Jeez, I don’t know you!” I exclaimed, although severely tempted. Harley’s chest was broad, and his arms looked big.
“I’m twenty-three years old, a prospect with Rage MC. My parents are Drake and Phoenix Michaelson. I have seventeen brothers and sisters… no, Mom is not a brood mare. She birthed seven kids and adopted the rest of us. My brothers are Carmine and Tye Michaelson, my sisters are Jodie and Serenity Michaelson. Well-known names. I ride a Harley and am becoming known in my chosen career as a weapon’s master. Now you know me. Go to sleep, Oakley,” Harley said.
With a huff, I rested my head on Harley’s chest, and his muscled arm came around me and wrapped me up.
“That makes me feel safe,” I muttered.
“Good.”
“Blacksmith? That’s unusual,” I said.
“I enjoy it. Watching something form out of a shapeless lump of metal is satisfying.”
“Your sisters are beautiful.”
“Thank you, I think so.”
“Head—”
“Oakley, go to sleep,” Harley ordered on a soft sigh.
“Okay.”
Harley
A smile crossed my lips as Oakley’s leg swung over mine, and she burrowed tightly into me. She was a snuggler, and I liked it. Her hair was fanned out over my chest, and an arm was across my waist.
This felt nice and was something I could become used to. I’d had women in the past but wasn’t a player by any means. However, sharing a bed was something I had never done before, making this a novel experience. I was still trying to decide how to handle Oakley. The temptation was to take Oakley home, but I knew my mother. Mom would go crazy thinking I was bringing back a woman I was claiming.
There was an unspoken rule. No casual dates entered Reading Hall. Only serious dates were allowed. Which meant until Molly, nobody had ever visited the Hall as a date. Mom had fallen instantly in love with Carmine’s girl, and now she was sniffing around for more children-in-law that might lead to grandbabies. And Mom was rabid for grandchildren.
Yeah, taking Oakley home would cause problems.
◆◆◆
I woke as Oakley mumbled under her breath and attempted to remove herself from where she had plastered her body over mine. The devil tempted me, and I moved my arm and trapped Oakley in place.
Oakley froze and muttered again.
I struggled not to smile. Quietly, she tried to wriggle out of my embrace, and I released a soft moan and held her tighter.
“Shit,” Oakley exclaimed softly.
She moved her leg from where it lay across both of mine, and I allowed her. But I liked the feel of Oakley in my arms. However, there was a huge problem, and I mean huge. My cock was hard enough to pound nails. And it was reacting because of Oakley’s closeness.
Honestly, I had to let Oakley go because my dick was demanding attention, and I doubted Oakley wanted to provide it.
Oakley instantly wriggled to the edge of the bed, putting distance between us. To my amusement, Oakley kept muttering, thinking I was still asleep.
I made a show of yawning, and Oakley shut up, and the mattress dipped as she sat up and shuffled down the bed. Following suit, I stretched and caught sight of Oakley eyeing my stomach as my tee had shifted.
Oakley licked her lips and then adverted her head and winced. Damn, I glanced at the clock and saw it had been five hours since she’d woken me.
“Painkillers,” I grunted out and moved out of bed.
“Please,” Oakley asked, and I shook a couple out and handed them to her.
Oakley swallowed them as I checked her feet.
“Your left looks infected, which puts a stop in any plans you might have,” I said, frowning.
“Well, I can’t stay here until I heal. I need to put distance between me and Illinois.”
“There’re options. Oakley, I’m going to shower and collect my gear, and we can talk at the diner. Would you like another shower?”
“Please, if you don’t mind.”
Deftly, I carried Oakley into the bathroom and ensured she had everything she needed, including wrapping her feet, before leaving.
Showering and dressing, I returned to Oakley within fifteen minutes. Quietly, letting myself into the room, I called out, and Oakley replied she was just dressing.
I noted Oakley left her hair to dry naturally, and the first impression of high maintenance faded. Oakley seemed quite happy with simple things.
Once she shouted she was ready, I carried her to the bed and checked her feet.
“Shit, Oakley, these are infected. Both of them. Your right is the worst. You’re going to need antibiotics. I’m gonna call a doctor,” I said.
“No!” Oakley cried.
“Don’t worry. Doc Paul will see you off the books. He’s a friend of the club. Doc Paul will come out and won’t make a record of the visit,” I reassured her.
Oakley kept running her hands over her jeans and looked worried. She wore the second hoodie I’d bought.
“Here, I got you some socks. These will keep your feet warm,” I said, slipping them on once I’d re-cleaned and slathered up her feet.
“Thank you,” Oakley said.
Packing the remainder of Oakley’s items into a backpack I’d purchased and shrugging it on, I checked the room and picked her up.
“What are you doing?” Oakley demanded as I carried her out.
“Getting breakfast.”
“Harley, you can’t keep carrying me everywhere. Put me down. I’ll walk on the sides of my feet,” Oakley hissed, ducking her head as a man walked past and chuckled.
“Oakley, I didn’t doctor your feet for you to wreck my work. Shut up.”
“That’s rude!” Oakley exclaimed as I kept striding forward.
A waitress saw me coming and got the door, her mouth open in surprise.
“Table for two,” I requested.
Definitely looking bemused, the woman led me to a booth, and I gently slid Oakley in.
“I’ve hurt my feet,” Oakley explained, and the waitress nodded.
“Sweetheart, if I had a man as handsome as him, I’d be carried everywhere, too,” the waitress quipped, and I laughed.
Oakley blushed. “Oh no, it’s not like that. We are… uh… what are we?” Oakley demanded. Seconds later, she realised how that sounded as the woman let out a dry chuckle. Oakley turned bright red.
“We’re friends,” I said.
The waitress brought our orders and coffee.
Oakley looked me. “What are my options?”
Oakley
Harley offered a sexy smile, but I doubt that he even realised he was doing it.
The waitress sighed as she hurried away.
“You’ve a few options, Oakley. You can come with me to Rapid City, and we’ll put you up in a hotel there. When your feet get better, you’ll be free to go where you wish. You can stay here and heal. Or is there a friend to visit?” Harley inquired.
As Harley mentioned a friend, I shook my head. No, there was nobody I could stay with that wouldn’t let my parents know where I was hiding.
“If you come to RC, I have resources there that’ll help. Such as Doc Paul and my club,” Harley tempted.
The waitress placed the orders in front of us, and I cut into the pancakes.
“Rapid City is okay until I can walk again. That will give me a chance to put some plans into place,” I glanced around and didn’t see anybody close. “Harley, do you know anyone that could… you know…”
“Huh?” Harley asked.
“Get me some fake papers?” I whispered.
Harley looked surprised before grinning. He leaned forward.
“Yeah, I do. We’ll cross that bridge when we need to,” Harley murmured and laughed.
“I can pay,” I offered.
“Oakley, let’s just concentrate on getting your feet healthy and dealing with the infection,” Harley said.
“Okay.”
While not a solid plan, Rapid City was hours from Illinois. Not as far as I wished, but it was two states over. Everyone searching would take a while to find me as long as I didn’t use identification. Hell, I didn’t even have a cell phone. I was virtually untraceable right now. I could pay cash for things, which would keep me off the radar.
“Maybe you can tell me what’s happening,” Harley suggested, and I choked on a sip of coffee.
“Um…”
“In time, Oakley, you’ll realise you can trust me,” Harley added.
Trust was an alien feeling. The last person I had trusted had betrayed me to my parents and got me put under lock and key for the past few months. Trusting someone was strange. Ever since I’d turned eighteen, I knew I couldn’t depend on anyone other than one person.
Looking in Harley’s eyes, I wondered how much I could trust him. Would Harley demand payment for his help? Or would Harley betray me when my family posted a reward? I chewed my lip and pondered if I should stay here instead, wait twenty-four hours, and disappear.
“Oakley, whatever you are thinking, forget it. I get that you’ve not been able to depend on people, but I won’t let you down. My club and, most certainly, my family are in the habit of protecting the innocent. That means you. While you’re with me, you’re under my protection,” Harley explained, and I nodded.
Sure, I’d take his words at face value, but I wouldn’t trust him. Trust had to be earned.
“Oakley, I mean that,” Harley insisted.
“Sure,” I replied, but Harley realised I didn’t believe him.
“Time will prove one way or another,” Harley stated, and I nodded.
We finished the meal in silence, and Harley went and paid. It was sweet that he checked if I needed the toilet before leaving, and the waitress sent us another look.
Five minutes later, Harley was wrapping me up in a thick leather flying jacket. I instantly fell in love with it. He yanked a second pair of socks over my feet and followed them up with a pair of woollen outdoor socks.
“That should keep your feet warm. Please keep away from the pipes, as they’ll burn you. Put this on,” Harley ordered and handed me a helmet.
“I didn’t think MC members wore helmets,” I said as I shoved it on.
“Mom would have a shit fit if her children didn’t. Not all the brothers use them. Dad allows people to make their own choices. The law in South Dakota states all under eighteens must wear a helmet, and everyone, regardless of age, must wear eye protection. Mom made us all watch scary horror movies of biker’s brains being splattered on the ground. All of us kids wear one,” Harley said.
“Do your siblings ride? Did they join the club?”
“Jodie and Serenity ride. But women aren’t part of the MC except as old ladies. Although they rule the roost, make no mistake. My oldest brother, Fanatic, joined Hellfire MC, which is Rage’s brother club.”
“Why not Rage?” I asked curiously.
“Because Fanatic knew that as Dad’s eldest son, everyone would always move to protect him, and he wouldn’t be able to breathe. Rage has faced some shit over the decade, and we’re currently dealing with a raging asshole. We’re clean and work with the cops, but that doesn’t mean assholes don’t come looking for trouble,” Harley explained.
I wanted to understand what sort of troubles, but Harley swung a long leg over the bike.
“Mount up, Oakley. We’ve got an eight-hour ride before hitting Rapid City.”
I did as told because my skin was itching. We were too close to Illinois. The quicker we escaped, the better. There was too much on the line for my parents, Bronson, and Reverend Jefferies to lose. They’d keep hunting until they found me. Eighteen months were left until I was free and clear.
Maybe not a long time, however for me, it was a lifetime.
The secret account I had should be able to keep me off their radar for a while. I could move from state to state but would have to be constantly alert. Fake identification would help no end.
Hanging on to Harley on the back of the bike for the next four hours allowed my mind to come up with plausible hiding places and other plans. When we stopped for lunch, I was shocked at how much my thighs hurt. Meanwhile, Harley carried me into a diner without a hitch. Seems the long ride hadn’t messed with him.
Harley
Fuck me. Having Oakley wrapped around me was playing havoc with my cock. Half the time, the damn thing stood to attention. Especially when Oakley pressed those breasts of hers against my back—or when she sighed.
Apparently, my dick had singled out Oakley as a friend he wanted to get to know much more intimately. I was completely attuned to her every move. And Oakley was driving me fuckin’ crazy. Twenty-four hours and this woman was under my skin. Luckily, I had self-control in bucket loads. I would not be bending Oakley over a table and banging her until I was satiated. No matter what my cock wanted.
We stopped for an hour as Oakley needed a rest. I doubted that she’d ever ridden for so long, and four hours remained.
Oakley winced when I informed her how long there was left. But I’d give Oakley her due; she didn’t complain when we had to leave.
Oakley snuggled in again, and then I rode out. Four more hours of discomfort loomed.
◆◆◆
Oakley hissed as I picked her up once more and carried her inside. The receptionist at the hotel smiled.
“Honeymooners?”
“Sort of. I need a room for a week,” I said, presenting my card.
Oakley muttered under her breath, but I ignored her.
“The honeymoon suite?”
“No, just a standard with a king-size and room service included, please.”
“And your name?” the receptionist inquired, looking between Oakley and me.
“Mr and Mrs Michaelson,” Harley replied.
The receptionist offered a knowing look and wrote our names down. She blinked when I handed over a black AmEx card in my name. She glanced at Oakley and me one more time before booking a room.
I carried Oakley up, placed her in a chair, and positioned the rucksack on the floor.
“That’s a problem,” Oakley muttered.
“What is?”
“I only have two changes of clothes.”
“If you’re hiding from your family, then buying online might be an issue, and I don’t have time to go shopping today. Here’s my card to buy some items.”
“Harley, I’m not a charity case!” Oakley exclaimed. “I have cash and a bank card.”
“Oakley, you cannot use the card. If it’s in your name, they’ll track you.”
“Nobody knows about this account,” Oakley retorted.
“If they hire a PI or have anyone tech savvy, they’ll run a search, and that card will come up. You can’t use it.”
Oakley paled. “I can’t?”
With a sigh, I sat down on the arm of an armchair.
“You won’t tell me anything. And I’ll ask again, how big is the trouble you’re in? I have the feeling this is more than a runaway bride being coerced into a wedding,” I pushed.
“Harley, I really can’t use that bank account?” Oakley asked, sidestepping the question.
I wanted to shake her but knew that would frighten her. Plus, I’d never harm a woman.
“No, honey. That would lead those chasing you straight here,” I stated.
“But I’ve only got five thousand in cash.”
“Jeez, you’ve been carrying that much around?” I asked, horrified.
“Yes, in one-hundred-dollar bills. I’ll pay you back for the motel last night and for this hotel,” Oakley said. “Oh, and the clothes and food.” “I’m not worried about that. Keep the money. When we figure something out, you can pay me back,” I explained with no intention of taking any money from Oakley.
“I’ll pay what I owe now,” Oakley offered.
“Keep it. Let’s see what Doc Paul says and proceed from there.”
“Harley! I said I couldn’t see a doctor!” Oakley exclaimed. She began to struggle upright, and I stood and pressed her back in the chair.
“Stop. Doc Paul is off the books. He’s coming because your feet are badly infected and need looking at. If we don’t get antibiotics, the infection will worsen,” I soothed.
Oakley looked panicked. “Are they that bad?”
“How much pain are you in? Is the Tylenol helping or merely taking the edge off?” I replied.
“It’s bad,” Oakley admitted.
“Let’s hear Doc Paul’s opinion. He’s genuine, not a backstreet hack. He works at the hospital and can prescribe painkillers etcetera.” “Okay, Harley,” Oakley said finally. “I’ll trust you on this.”
Well, that was a move in the right direction!