Chapter Five – Athena
When I awakened, the first thing I noticed was the dryness of my throat. Before Fendi and I left for the run, it’d been hours since I’d drunk anything, and I was fucking parched.
A toasty fire blazed in the fireplace directly across from the bed I lay in. I frowned, started to sit up, but pain streaked through me.
“Fuck!”
Drawing in a deep breath, I stared at the ceiling, the wooden crossbeams as unfamiliar as my agony.
“Fendi,” I croaked. “Fen…”
The events of the disastrous run rushed back to me. Those cunts finding us. My VP’s body falling.
My gaze misted, and I blinked. I didn’t cry often but knowing that such a vibrant woman’s life had been snuffed out made me emotional. Fendi and I were frenemies more than besties, but as Harlots, we were sisters, and she’d had my back more times than I could count.
Now she was gone, left in the middle of the wilderness. If the Femmes hadn’t doubled back to desecrate her body, a wild animal likely made a meal of her flesh. I shuddered at the thought, and nausea rose in me.
The snowstorm blanketing her corpse and protecting her body until I could retrieve it was the best-case scenario. A sob bubbled inside me, but I shoved it away. There was no time for weakness. I wanted revenge.
Or fuck me, a fucking hug.
Sniffling, I sank lower under the covers. The soft bedding was a novel experience.
Where the fuck was I?
Gingerly, I pressed my hand against my aching thigh. Not the best idea since the movement hurt my shoulder. After a quick exploration of myself, I realized I was bandaged in four places, including my hand.
What the actual fuck?
I was dreaming. I had to be. Fendi was alive. I was in my trailer with my spoiled pit bull, handling club business behind the scenes and listening to my little sisters.
Squeezing my eyes shut, I tapped my toes together, ignoring the pain and chanting there’s no place like home, there’s no place like home.
Yes, I was one of the Kansans firmly on the side of appreciating the cultural phenomenon known as the Wizard of Oz . For better or worse, the movie shaped the world’s perception of my adopted state. Many people wanted nothing to do with it.
Me? I was ten, and still in Tennessee, when I discovered Toto was long dead. I think I cried for a week.
The innocence of childhood.
Swallowing, I opened one eye and gritted my teeth when the same surroundings greeted me.
Besides, the bed, softer than the one in my trailer on the Royal Harlots’ premises, was a dead giveaway and hadn’t changed since I awakened.
It was the most comfortable mattress I’d ever lain on, and the cotton felt amazing against my skin.
I had no idea where I was, but I knew it wasn’t a hospital.
For once, luck had smiled down on me and put a good Samaritan with medical knowledge in my path.
If only Fendi had been so lucky.
The door creaked open, and I struggled to sit up, but movement hurt me like blue blazes and... Holy fuck!
The handsomest man I ever saw stepped into my line of vision. Dark-haired, dark-eyed, tall and muscular, he was like a Greek god stepped out of a mythological tale.
He appeared to be in his 30s, with a manicured beard, thick dark hair, almond-shaped dark blue eyes framed by thick lashes, and sun-kissed skin that hinted at an outdoorsy lifestyle. Put simply, he was one fine ass specimen.
Fuckity fuck fuck fuck. I was alone and injured and he was a strange motherfucker. Fine fuckheads were fucking psychopaths, too.
It was rare that I felt real fear. Even when those three bitches found us, shit kicked off too quickly for me to be terrified. Then, I’d been armed. Not that it did much good. Now, though, I was in a fucking pickle, injured and unarmed with an unfamiliar man staring at me.
I searched the room for a weapon, but the furnishings were sparse, and the nightstand next to me, as well as the fireplace mantle, was almost empty. I frowned.
“You’re awake,” he said, his voice deep and smooth. His lips tilted into a smile. “I saw you stirring and thought you might open your eyes.” He held up a bottle of water that I hadn’t noticed. “Figured you’d be thirsty.”
“You figured right,” I replied, trying to keep my voice light to mask my grief and wariness. I didn’t accept the bottle, so he sauntered to the nightstand and set it down. “I take it you’re my hero?”
Something about him was vaguely familiar, and I assumed that meant the recesses of my mind remembered his presence.
He lifted a perfectly arched brow. “You mean the one who saved you?”
What the fuck else could I mean?
“Well, duh,” I said, a more polite version of my internal dialogue.
He grunted.
My voice sounded raspier than normal, and my throat ached each time I spoke. I eyed the water, desperate for a drink. The seal on the bottle wasn’t cracked, so it was safe to drink.
I reached for it, but it was a little too far away. When I leaned toward it, I cried out.
“Here,” he said gruffly, his voice washing over me. I swore I’d heard him in my dreams. He quickly twisted off the cap and held it out to me. “Do you need me to hold it, or can you handle it?”
“I think I can handle it,” I murmured, snatching the bottle from him. Within seconds, it was empty. I handed it back to him. “Thank you. I needed that.”
“I’m sure you did. You’ve been out for three days. You had an extremely high fever at one point.” He nodded to my bandaged hand. “I removed the IV a couple of hours ago. I was out of supplies.”
My eyes widened. Hearing he’d given me an IV shocked the shit out of me, but I thought I’d been out for only hours.
“Three days?” I echoed. All the fucking lost time. By now, the Scorpions had probably hit the Bastards, and the Femmes had gotten to my club members.
Gritting my teeth and desperate to act, I forced myself to sit up.
Sweat immediately began beading on my brow, and I panted.
Still, I tried to swing my legs over the side of the bed, but I couldn’t because my thigh felt too heavy.
Not to mention my shoulder and arm. It would’ve been better if those motherfuckers fell off as useless and painful as they were.
Growling, I fell back against my pillow and looked at the stranger. He’d been watching me, not moving to help me and not commenting to either encourage me or dissuade me.
“Please,” I croaked. “I need to go.”
“You’ve been through a traumatic experience, and–”
“I know what the fuck happened!” I snapped, ignoring the offense rising on his face. I didn’t give a fuck. His outrage didn’t move me one little bit. “I need to get back to Kansas City.”
“We all need to be somewhere. For you, now , that’s here in this bed.”
“I appreciate your help. Truly. And I’m sorry if I’m coming across as an ungrateful cunt, but…
” Fendi’s dead body rose in my head. Lake and Juno alone with only Bob the Biter.
Warrior. Reese. Louisiana. All family and friends, people I loved.
I might be too late to save some of them.
I was still needed, though. I’d call Duchess and tell her what happened.
She’d call Jameson and instruct me on our best course of action.
I couldn’t explain any of this to the stranger.
Not the dire situation or my urgency. “Help me and I’ll pay you–”
His glare halted me faster than the palm he raised, signaling I stop talking. I was still delirious. Otherwise, I wouldn’t recognize Warrior’s cues that made me instantly obey, in the man in front of me.
I pinched my cheek. “Ow!”
Shit. Maybe I wasn’t delirious.
“We’re snowed in,” the man said in a tone that brooked no argument, “so you aren’t going anywhere. We’re stuck here for the next week, at the very least. Moreover, you aren’t fit to travel, unless it’s to a hospital.”
Fuck.
I was injured in the middle of nowhere with a man I didn’t know, Fendi was dead, Razor’s suitcase had been stolen after that motherfucker set us up, and I had no way to contact anyone about the turn of events.
For some reason, I recoiled at the idea of Razor setting us up, even though the Femmes’ ambush was almost too perfect.
Either it was a trap or there was a rat amid the Bastards or the Harlots.
“This is so fucking bad,” I said with a sigh, tipping my head back.
“The worst is over,” he said, mistaking my meaning. “The small caliber was your saving grace.”
I raised my head and glared at him. “Have you ever been shot?”
“I don’t lead a lifestyle that’ll lead to such an occurrence.”
“What—”
“I found your fucking weapons. A woman who isn’t a criminal wouldn’t walk around with an arsenal.”
“And here I was thinking you might be the criminal.”
“That’s rich coming from you,” he sneered.
I flipped him off. “Since you’re such a paragon of society and have never been shot, shut the fuck up about luck. Bullet wounds fucking hurt.”
“You’ve been shot before.” He sounded appalled. “Of course you have.”
“Look, fuckhead, my medical history doesn’t matter. We’re talking about these wounds, not any other I might’ve had.” I’d admit to nothing. Fuck him. “And these hurt.”
“Lucky for you, I’m good at my job,” he drawled, his expression inscrutable. “If you want to leave, you must do what I say so you’ll heal completely. You survived the surgery, which is a miracle, considering what I had to work with.”
I considered my options and realized I had very few.
I couldn’t even make it to the front door and see for myself if we were really snowed in.
Worse, I was at his fucking mercy. So what if he seemed kind—sort of—but that could change if I upset him.
Men were fickle beings, and the worst ones were often experts at hiding their assholery.
Drawing in a deep breath, I thought about what he said. “You a doctor?”
“I am,” he confirmed with a nod, standing straighter and holding out his hand. “I introduced myself before, but I suppose you don’t remember my introduction. To refresh your memory, I’m Dr. Felix Good. Typically, I’m a plastic surgeon, but this situation isn’t quite typical.”
He could say that shit again.
The corners of my mouth lifted, and I placed my hand in his. “No, it isn’t.”
I held the puns that could be made about his name to myself, even as Motley Crüe’s Dr. Feel Good blared through my head.
“I’d like to know more about you, Ms.…?”
“I didn’t give you my name during our last introduction?”
“You cussed me out just for asking.”
I couldn’t help but laugh at the revelation. He pursed his lips, clearly not finding it amusing.
“Athena,” I said, not trusting him enough to give him my real name.
His eyebrows rose. “Like…the goddess?”
“Is there another?”
“You, apparently. Though your vest had the same name, so I shouldn’t be shocked.”
“My cut,” I corrected with a frown. “Where’d you put it?”
“Laundry room, although I haven’t washed it–”
“And you won’t wash it, because that’ll fuck it up,” I snapped, annoyed that he’d touched it in the first place. “It’s real leather!”
“You can afford that?”
I glowered at him.
Remorseless, he smirked at me. “I wouldn’t expect a criminal to have that type of money. On the other hand, I should know better. The Royal Harlots MC is a criminal organization.” His lips tightened into a thin line. “What’s your role in that gang?”
“Not everyone in an MC is a criminal,” I said tightly, my headache worsening.
“No, but I think you are. I see no other reason that you would be shot in the middle of the woods.”
“Could’ve been a hunting accident,” I countered.
“The bullets didn’t match that of a hunting rifle, and you weren’t in hunting gear, so do not try to deceive me with such a blatant lie.”
He was a bold motherfucker, something both admirable and annoying.
In a regular situation, I’d show him how much of a criminal I was and warn him to shut the fuck up if he knew what was good for him.
But I had no weapon at my disposal to back up my threat, and for the foreseeable future, it seemed I was reliant on him.
Fuck my pain. Adrenaline spiked my temper and helped me to ignore my agony so I could put a motherfucker in his place.
“Look,” I began after a moment of silence. “I’ll save you some of your fucking breath and let you know that I won’t be answering more of your dumbass questions, so either kick me out into the snow, or drop it.”
“I’m a doctor; I couldn’t kick you out and leave you to die,” he said, sounding appalled that I’d say such a thing.
“Then you select option number two.”
“I choose option two because I don’t want to aggravate your condition. I worked my ass off to keep you alive. Otherwise, you’d tell me what the fuck I want to know,” he promised darkly.
For a moment, we just stared at each other. I held his gaze, trying to ignore how pretty his eyes were. The rumbling of my stomach broke the stillness.
“You’re hungry,” he said.
“What a genius you are.”
“Let me change your bandages, then I’ll feed you.”
My tired, overwhelmed brain heard an innuendo, but the inscrutability on his face hid his true meaning. Which could’ve been perfectly innocent.
“Nothing too heavy or elaborate,” he continued.
I nodded. “I understand. I wouldn’t want to vomit all over your pristine bedding. Or you.”
“It wouldn’t be the first time.”
His unconcerned tone irritated me. Instead of biting the hand that fed me, I pressed my lips together and turned my head.
He walked out without saying another word.