Chapter 3
Chapter Three
It had been years since I’d woken up in the clubhouse.
As a teenager, I’d spent most of my time sequestered at home with my books and homework.
During my undergrad, Merrick shooed me away whenever I visited for the weekend.
When I did make it to a party, he made sure every one of his men knew I was his sister.
After a quick shower, I strolled down to the clubhouse bar where a freshly brewed pot of coffee sat steaming, cutting through the scent of stale smoke and spilled beer. Thane and Reaper hunched over mugs, their faces grim.
“Morning, darlin’,” Thane said, missing his usual warmth and affection.
My stomach dropped. Had Merrick and Kenna been in an accident? Did Hatchet crash his bike again? My mind whirled to carnage, chaos, and worst-case scenarios. “What’s wrong?”
“ICE arrested Doc’s wife this morning while she was dropping their kid at daycare,” Reaper explained.
My stomach dropped. I’d met the club doctor, a gruff Mexican-American man who’d once let me practice stitches on one of the club brothers while he chain-smoked and cursed in Spanish.
“Can the club’s lawyer help?” I opened the bar refrigerator and pilfered a Red Bull.
Thane grimaced. “We’re trying. She has a green card. She’s lived here since she was fourteen. But she’s not at the detention center closest to us, which means they’re transporting her to one further away.”
“So, why’d they arrest her?” I cracked the can and took a long sip.
“She wrote a bad check eight years ago.”
“Seriously?”
Thane nodded. “If she gets deported, Doc says he’s moving their family to Mexico until they can sort things out.”
“Is there anything I can do to help?”
“Can you be on call for us? If any of the guys get hurt right now, I don’t want to bother him.”
“Absolutely.” I secretly loved stitching up the guys with my field kit. The rough, bloody work with Everclear for antiseptic and whiskey as pain medication made the sterile hospital feel like a picnic.
Hatchet sauntered down the stairs and joined us at the bar. He dropped onto a stool two seats down from me, leaving one open between us.
“How’re you feeling this morning?” he asked with his trademark smirk.
I grinned. “I feel fine. I didn’t have that much to drink.”
Hatchet raised a brow. “I had to carry you upstairs.”
“You did?” I tilted my head as I tried to recall the fuzzy memories from the night before.
“Yeah. You swore at me the entire time. You called me a man whore.”
“You are a man whore.”
He ignored the dig. “You seriously don’t have a hangover?”
I shrugged. “I feel fine.”
“Oh, to be young again,” Hatchet mused, stroking his beard. “Just wait until you hit thirty. Hangovers get worse. I promise.”
I rolled my eyes. “I’m not that far from thirty. Just drink more water.”
“Trust me, doll,” Hatchet drawled. “There’s a big difference between being a baby like you and being in your thirties.”
I shook my head at his patronizing comment. “I’m four years away. I’m hardly a child.”
I scrolled through my phone as I sipped my Red Bull, half listening to Thane and Reaper update Hatchet on Doc’s mess. My message inbox was surprisingly empty.
My phone rang, the hospital’s name lighting up on the screen. “Hello?”
“I’m so sorry to do this to you on short notice,” Dr. Patel apologized. “Can you come in early this morning? There was a pileup on the Loop, and we need all hands on deck.”
I stood. “Yeah, I’m on my way.” I slipped the phone into my pocket and crunched the now-empty Red Bull can before tossing it in the recycling bin. “I’m off to go save lives,” I said, waving goodbye.
* * *
By the end of my shift, my nerves were fried after dealing with the catastrophic result of a semitruck mowing into a row of cars.
Despite scrubbing the blood spatter from my arms and dumping my dirty scrubs, the reek of diesel and blood was tattooed in my nostrils.
I stared at my tablet, rereading a note for the third time.
My head throbbed, and I wanted nothing more than to curl up in bed with a book and a Bellini.
“Merci.”
My body tensed at the sound of Luca’s voice. I flexed my jaw as I glanced to where he hovered at the door.
“No,” I growled. I slid past him, returning the tablet to the nurse’s station.
“You can’t keep avoiding me. You blocked my number.”
I scoffed. “I didn’t.”
“My messages show as undeliverable, and calls go straight to voicemail.”
I pulled my phone from my pocket and scrolled to Luca’s contact to see that he was, in fact, blocked. My brows furrowed. If I hadn’t, then …
Hatchet.
Anger flared through me. I stood, pressing past Luca. He trailed behind me, his insistent demands a jilted mix of Italian and English. Eyes followed us through the hospital hallways.
“Stop!” I hissed, my cheeks flushed. “Everyone’s watching us.”
“Because they know you’re overreacting.” Luca’s hand brushed my arm. “You’re mine.”
I turned and shoved my hands into his chest. “I’m not yours. I stopped being yours the moment you fucked someone else in our bed. We’re done. Leave me alone.”
Luca grabbed my arm as I attempted to move past him, squeezing my bicep tight.
“Come home,” he demanded.
“Let me go. You’re hurting me.”
Joey, a nurse who could moonlight as a bouncer, stepped forward. I held up my hand to stop him. “I’ve got this.” I glared at Luca. “Let me go. Right now.”
He loosened his grip, allowing me to pull away.
I jogged through the sliding doors into the brutal Texas heat, hyperaware of the fall of his footsteps behind me as I headed to the back of the parking lot. I didn’t look back. Didn’t acknowledge his presence. I clicked the fob and reached for the handle.
A whoosh of breath left me as Luca slammed me against my truck. I shrieked in pain as the hot steel seared my skin. I turned to face Luca, pressing closer to him only to avoid the scorching metal.
“If you come back to me, I’ll forgive you for what you’ve done.” His low, dangerous tone sent shivers down my arms.
I pushed into him, hoping he’d take a step back. “You can afford the repairs. You love throwing money around.”
I froze as Luca wrapped a hand around my throat. My hands flew up on instinct, my fingers wrapping around his wrist as his grip tightened. My heart hammered in my chest, and tears sprang to my eyes.
“I’m not talking about your little tantrum,” he spat. “I’m talking about whoever’s bed you fell into last night.” He squeezed tighter. “You had your fun. You made your point. We’re even now.”
As my vision began to spot, I raised my knee and jammed it between his legs as hard as I could. I twisted loose and shoved Luca away. He stumbled sideways with a groan.
I hopped into the driver’s seat, slamming the door and hitting the locks. I sucked in a ragged breath. Luca staggered in front of the hood, and I started the engine, gunning the accelerator and speeding past him.
I blared rap music as I sped to the clubhouse, aiming to ease my frayed nerves.
I caught my reflection in the rearview mirror.
The marks on my throat were already blooming against my skin.
I stared at them for a moment before rummaging through my purse for my concealer.
My hands steadied as I swiped it across my neck and face.
I’d seen this before. In exam rooms. On other women. I just never thought I’d see it on myself.
I kept driving. By the time the clubhouse gates came into view, my face was neutral, my breath steady. I waved at Coast and another prospect manning the gate as I drove through.
My phone chirped as I put the truck in park.
Eva: Heard you’re living at the clubhouse. Want to grab dinner?
Me: Yeah, but first I need to remove Hatchet’s balls.
Eva: Can I watch?
Me: The more, the merrier.
I stormed into the clubhouse, the door slamming against the wall with such force that memories of my father’s lectures about my temper flooded back.
“Hatchet,” I shouted, my voice echoing across the polished concrete floors as I swept my gaze across the space. “Where the fuck is Hatchet?”
Fuse raised a brow at the fury in my voice but silently tilted his head toward Thane’s office.
I stormed to the door and paused, centering myself and knocking once with the respect for the club president that had been ingrained into me from childhood. Thane’s gruff voice floated through, inviting me to enter.
“I’m sorry if I’m interrupting, but I need to talk to Hatchet. Now.”
Thane glanced between the two of us before hardening his gaze at Hatchet. “What the fuck did you do now?”
Hatchet raised his palms. “Nothing.”
I marched toward him and grabbed a handful of his shirt, pulling him to his feet. “You blocked Luca’s number last night.”
“Oh, that.”
“So you admit it?” My grip tightened for a beat before I shoved him back, forcing him to brace a hand on the table.
Hatchet smoothed out his shirt and shrugged. “He was being a dick. I didn’t want you to wake up to those types of text messages, so I deleted them.”
“You went through my phone?” My voice rose with every word.
He worked his jaw and tipped his head back to stare at the ceiling. “No, of course not. He sent you a bunch right as I dropped you on the bed. Said some real nasty shit. You didn’t need to see that. I deleted them and blocked him. I meant to tell you.”
I clenched my fists. “I have it handled. Don’t ever touch my phone again.”
Thane’s eyes flicked between Hatchet and me as he cleared his throat. “Is this ex going to be a problem?”
I absently rubbed my throat. “I have it under control.”
“You know we’ll take care of him if you want us to.” Thane’s voice stayed even, but there was nothing soft in the way he looked at me. He’d rally the Mavericks to burn everything Luca owned to the ground if I asked. Maybe even if I didn’t.
“I know.” I reached for the whiskey glass on Thane’s desk, swallowed the remaining two shots in one gulp. I glared at Hatchet one last time as the burning liquid slid down my throat. “Don’t ever do that again.”
Eva grinned at me as I shut Thane’s door harder than necessary. “Hatchet still standing?”
“Only because Thane was there.”