Chapter 4 #2
I leaned back against the wall just outside the CT room, my arms crossed over my chest and boots planted wide, staring straight ahead.
My mind kept drifting back to Hadley, despite my every effort to anchor it.
Didn’t matter how hard I tried to keep my head in the right place—clinical, controlled, and focused—it kept going to the way her skin felt under my hands. Soft, warm, and so fucking perfect.
My jaw tightened as I dragged a slow breath through my lungs, the sterile scent of antiseptic doing jack shit to cool the heat crawling through my bloodstream.
She’d gotten under my skin before I even realized what was happening, and she didn’t even realize what she was doing.
My body had reacted the second I got my hands on her and hadn’t stopped since.
I shifted slightly, adjusting the tension in my jeans, trying to ease the steady, insistent pressure that hadn’t gone away since the track.
My pulse still thrummed an insistent rhythm in my veins.
Fucking ridiculous. She’d been bleeding a half hour ago, and I was standing here half hard like a damn teenager who didn’t know how to control himself.
I barely recognized this version of myself—the kind that was losing his carefully maintained control over a woman who’d quite literally crashed into my life.
“Fucking hell,” I muttered under my breath, scrubbing a hand over my jaw.
With intense effort, my focus snapped back into doctor mode. The machine inside whirred, and I forced myself to think about her as my patient. Which led my thoughts back to that fucking scar.
I pushed off the wall and pulled my phone from my pocket. Then I quickly thumbed through my contacts to Jax’s number.
It rang only twice before he answered, dry amusement evident in his voice. “Tell me you don’t need bail money.”
A faint smirk tugged at my mouth. Leave it to Jax to open with sarcasm rather than a simple hello. “Relax, asshole. I don’t.”
“Shame.” He chuckled softly. “Then why are you interrupting my very important work of making sure the club’s digital footprint stays ghosted?”
I exhaled slowly, rubbing a thumb over my jaw. “Need you to look into someone.”
His tone sharpened instantly, humor fading to focused curiosity. “Who?”
“Hadley Rivers.” Saying her name ignited something possessive deep inside me.
I gave him the basics—age, physical description, and the simple backstory she’d provided during intake.
Nothing that hinted at my suspicions. Jax was the best, but until I knew exactly what I was dealing with, I wasn’t laying all my cards out yet.
I didn’t want to send him on what might turn out to be a wild goose chase.
“Hadley Rivers,” Jax repeated, clearly filing the name away for later. “What am I looking for?”
“Just run a basic dossier,” I replied. “Family, work history, background check. And anything that raises flags.”
“Got it,” Jax agreed easily. “I’ll get it to you soon.”
I heard the faint clack of keys and knew he was already getting started. “Appreciate it.”
There was a pause, and when Jax spoke again, the teasing note was back, lighter now. “You interrupting my day because of club business, or is this personal?”
“Fuck off,” I growled, unable to stop the faint twitch of my lips.
His chuckle was low and amused. “Yeah, that’s what I figured.”
When he started humming “Another One Bites the Dust,” I hung up without responding.
I know full well that if Jax found something, he’d tell me immediately.
For now, though, I had to wait. And nothing about that sat well with me, not when every instinct in my gut told me I needed to keep Hadley close to protect her.
Now I just needed to find out from what.
The next number I pulled up was for one of the doctors patched into the Hounds of Hellfire MC, a club we trusted almost as much as our own brothers.
Flint was trained in most areas of medicine, but he specialized in reconstructive and cosmetic work.
Although he mostly used those skills only when needed to help people vanish into new identities.
That was the Hounds’ business—the kind that went a few steps farther and dug deeper than anything the feds could offer.
Reconstructive surgery was always a last resort, but Flint was the man you wanted holding the scalpel when it became necessary.
If something was off about that scar, Flint would be the one who knew exactly what he was looking at.
I knew Hadley would be done shortly, so rather than call, I sent Flint a quick text.
Me
Need your eyes on a surgical scar. Call you later tonight?
Flint’s response came within seconds.
Flint
Anytime.
I exhaled slowly, relief washing through me, grateful I had someone reliable to back me up if my suspicions were right. Before I could process any further, the CT room door opened, pulling my gaze upward.
Hadley appeared in her wheelchair, pushed by Gidget.
I was glad to see that her face was clearer and more alert than when she’d entered.
Her green eyes immediately found mine, holding my gaze as the nurse wheeled her closer.
My pulse kicked harder than it had a right to, sending heat through my veins.
She looked fucking beautiful even under the sterile fluorescent lights, her hair slightly tousled and eyes bright as they locked onto mine.
That stubborn chin lifted subtly as if reminding me she wasn’t fragile.
A small smirk teased the corner of her mouth, an expression that lit a fire low in my gut.
By the time we returned to Hadley’s room, the results were ready. I pulled them up on the computer, pulling my attention back into professional focus.
I reviewed the scans quickly but thoroughly. Each clean slice of the imaging data confirmed my initial impression. Nothing needed surgical intervention. Relief settled in my chest, a low hum of reassurance that steadied the protective instincts surging beneath my carefully maintained calm.
I met Hadley’s eyes again, allowing my expression to soften slightly, voice steady but gentler. “You’re clear—no bleed or fracture. Could have a concussion, though.”
She nodded, her shoulders releasing a subtle tension that had been lingering there since we arrived. Her gaze stayed on mine, quiet trust and something deeper passing between us, unspoken but unmistakably present.
The silence seemed to unnerve her because she straightened abruptly, her eyes darting away.
Her hands brushed self-consciously down the front of her jeans, smoothing invisible wrinkles, and when her gaze flicked back to mine, a forced smile curved her lips, bright enough to fool someone who didn’t know better.
“Guess this means no heavy lifting for a few days?” she joked lightly. Her attempt at humor was an obvious shield, trying to deflect the intensity that hung in the air between us.
I let her have the attempt at levity, but gently redirected the conversation. “How’re you feeling now? Headache?”
Her lips parted to respond quickly, but she caught herself, clearly reconsidering before answering more honestly. “A little. But nothing too bad.”
I studied her closer, taking in every tiny nuance of her body language.
There’d been several indications that she was practiced at hiding things, but somehow I’d seen through her tells right from the start.
She was good, but the truth was in her body language—forced ease in her posture despite the faint tightness around her mouth that told me the headache was probably worse than “nothing too bad.”
It was clear she was used to masking discomfort and putting on a front. Like someone who’d learned how to hold herself together out of necessity, not choice.
The thought made something inside me twist hard. My gut clenched with a protective instinct that burned hotter than I could justify. I didn’t understand why that scar on her temple had set my alarms ringing so loudly. Didn’t know why every instinct I had was screaming that she was in danger.
But my instincts had saved my life—and many others—countless times. I wasn’t about to start doubting them now.
Hadley glanced toward the door, then offered another overly bright smile. “So, does this mean I’m good to go home?”
My mind and body rejected the idea of letting her go. “You’re not going home tonight, baby.”
Her brows dipped, and she blinked. “I have to stay at the hospital?”
“No. You’re coming home with me.”
The casualness dropped from her expression instantly, and she bristled. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me.” My voice was calm, but the underlying authority was clear. Uncompromising.
Her jaw tightened, her gaze challenging as she pushed back against my claim. “I’m fine, Thayer. I appreciate everything you’ve done, but I don’t need a babysitter.”
My gaze softened just a fraction because, despite the bravado, I heard the faint edge of vulnerability in her voice. She needed to feel like she was in control—even if she wasn't.
“Not babysitting,” I corrected gently, framing it in clinical terms that made the most logical sense.
“You had a head injury, even if it’s minor.
Like I said before, we can’t rule out a concussion yet.
I want to observe you overnight, make sure there aren’t any delayed symptoms. It’s standard protocol, Hadley. ”
She hesitated, her eyes narrowing slightly. The logic was hard to argue with. It took a bit of wind from her sails, and her shoulders eased ever so slightly, her defensiveness slipping into curiosity. “Do you insist on personal overnight observation for every patient who takes a hit to the head?”
I met her gaze. “No.”
The single word hung heavily between us. I offered no further explanation, just let it sit there in silence, allowing her to read whatever she wanted into my simple admission.
She blinked once, then twice, a small crease forming between her brows. Clearly, my directness confused her, maybe even unnerved her a little more than she expected. She shifted her weight, suddenly looking unsure, like someone who’d prepared for a fight that wasn’t coming.
I stayed quiet, giving her space to process. Watching carefully, I noticed how she bit the corner of her lip, then released it slowly, her posture relaxing as she came to some silent conclusion. Finally, she exhaled softly and nodded, her voice quiet and resigned.
“Okay.”
That single word—acceptance cloaked in wary trust—filled my chest with a relief I hadn’t anticipated. She was mine now, even if she didn’t fully realize it yet. And I wasn’t letting her go until I was sure she was safe.
Hadley Rivers had crashed into my carefully constructed world, and nothing would ever be the same again.