Chapter 7
Walking away from Rosa curled on his bed the next morning was the hardest thing Street had ever done. She slept hard like she hadn’t rested for days. Her borrowed shirt had gotten rucked up, revealing her small, rounded bottom.
Feeling like a combination of a besotted fool and a horrible reprobate, he forced himself to grab clothes and dress in the guest room.
The bed was destroyed with the sheets halfway off the mattress.
He took a minute to spread the covers into place, erasing the reminder of her panic. What had someone done to her?
He left her breakfast wrapped up in the refrigerator.
Rosa knew the Ravagers were searching for her, and she wouldn’t be safe outside the compound.
Hopefully, she would make herself at home and rest. He doubted she’d had many days of leisure.
He crossed his fingers that she wouldn’t leave, telling himself that he wanted to make sure she was safe, but understanding his desire to keep her close was selfish as well.
Grabbing a piece of paper, he jotted a note to her.
After last night, he worded his message carefully. Terror and bad people had filled her path to him and the Devil Daddies’ compound. Street pledged to show Rosa she could trust him.
Street kicked himself for not thinking about getting her a phone. How would she get a hold of him in an emergency? Sure, all she had to do was run outside and yell for help. Everyone in the complex would converge immediately on his house.
Before he’d found the Devil Daddies, Street had lived in a random apartment in a random city.
He hadn’t known his neighbors, and they only knew his last name from the communal bank of mailboxes.
Here, people knew each other inside and out, and despite all the different personalities, they cared and watched out for each other.
Quickly, he arranged for a disposable phone to be delivered to Inferno that afternoon.
He would stock the device with several hours of connectivity as soon as the cellphone charged.
He had ordered some clothes yesterday after tucking her in bed.
That thought triggered Street to give himself hell for the thirtieth time for snuggling her too well under the covers.
She had two beach towels on that mattress in her apartment.
That must work better for her than sheets and a comforter.
The package Lucien had given him when he joined the Devil Daddies MC popped into his mind.
Maybe that blanket would be just what she needed to feel secure and to keep her from getting chilled.
The material was much softer than a large towel.
His mind was still focused on figuring out how to help Rosa as he parked and walked into the warehouse.
His MC brothers shouted their greetings as he walked to the board to see what Lucien needed him to move today.
Grabbing his hard hat, Street climbed up on the forklift he usually drove and headed for the first stack on his list.
Lost in the ritual of finding each load and maneuvering the machine into position, Street’s mind wandered back to Rosa. As he worked on his third job for the day a shout grabbed his attention.
“Street! Watch out, man! You almost took out that pallet of parts,” Hellcat yelled as he waved his arms in front of the forklift to get Street’s attention.
Immediately, Street stopped and bailed out of the machine to double-check that he hadn’t damaged the forklift or the supplies. He breathed a sigh of relief when he determined both were undamaged. Taking off his hard hat, he thrust a hand through his hair.
“You okay, Street?” Hellcat asked, studying him closely.
“Yeah. Just distracted. I’ll get my mind in the game,” Street promised.
“Better let Razor check you out to make sure there aren’t any lingering effects from whatever the Ravagers had that bar dose you with,” Hellcat said.
“No, I’m fine. The day off yesterday wiped away the fogginess.”
A buzz signaled the beginning of a warehouse-wide message starting. “Street, report to the medical building immediately.”
“Fuck,” Street swore before glaring at Hellcat. “Did you report me?”
“No.” Hellcat’s blunt denial and steely stare told Street he’d pissed off his MC brother.
“I’m distracted and a total ass. I’ll go see Razor,” he said to Hellcat as a sideways apology.
Hellcat nodded and asked, “Is she yours?”
“If I have anything to say about it,” Street said.
“Congratulations. Head for the medical building. I’ll move your forklift to the side.”
Shaking his head as he berated himself for drawing everyone’s attention to him. Negatively. He hung his hard hat on the wall, signifying he’d stepped out of the warehouse. Not that everyone didn’t already know.
Jogging across the pavement, Street headed for the medical building. He walked in to see a couple of guys already in seats waiting for appointments. Street headed for the desk to sign in.
“Don’t even bother. Come back here,” Razor called.
“Fuck,” Street swore under his breath and set the pen down. Turning, he joined Razor at one of the exam room doors.
Razor waved him inside, pointing at the exam table. The MC’s doctor closed the door and turned to scan him. “What happened?”
“I spaced out. Totally a jerk move. I was distracted. I’ll concentrate completely from now on.”
“What were you thinking about?” Razor asked. He always seemed to see more than Street wanted. Razor had two doctorates in medicine and psychology.
“Stupid stuff. I have no excuse.”
“I see. Look at the chart and read the smallest line you can see out loud,” Razor instructed.
“N, C, O, L, B.”
“Good. Cover your left eye and tell me the letters again.”
“N, C, O, L, B,” Street repeated.
“Right eye. Try the lower line.”
“L, T, P, A, Z.”
“Perfect. Your vision is fine. Ready to share why you’re worried about Rosa?” Razor asked, pulling over a rolling tray with tubes and other supplies. He picked up a rubber strap.
Street straightened his elbow with a sigh. “You know too much.”
Razor simply looked up at him and nodded before checking his arms for a good vein. “Make a fist.”
The doctor had gloved up, put on the tourniquet, and drawn two vials of blood before Street spoke. “Rosa had a bad night. One of many, I’m afraid. And I was a jerk who scared her more than comforting her.”
“Having made a deliberate choice based on knowledge?”
Street shook his head. “I didn’t have a clue. Wraith’s description of Rosa’s living situation combined with her disturbed sleep last night helped me figure out something happened to her.”
“Of course she’s running from problems. Rosa hasn’t always lived in poverty.”
“Really? How did you figure that out?” Street asked, staring at Razor in disbelief.
“Mannerisms, speech, actions. She’ll tell you her story when she trusts you enough. If she needs to talk through anything, I’m here. Sometimes, it’s easier to speak with someone you don’t lust after.”
Street scowled at him, torn between happiness that Razor had picked up on Rosa’s interest in him and the protectiveness that Razor had noticed Rosa was female. He knew being jealous was ridiculous. Razor was completely wrapped up in his Little girl, Honey.
“You’ve got it bad,” Razor said as he unfastened the tie around Street’s upper arm. “Pee in this cup.”
“What are you testing for?” Street asked.
“I’m checking to see if something is lingering in your system. Most drugs should have dissipated in less than twenty-four hours. If something is still lingering in your bloodstream, I need to pinpoint it. You haven’t taken any meds I don’t know about, right?”
“No.” Street didn’t do drugs. He’d worked too hard to get into the Devil Daddies and to master the heavy machinery they needed him to run. Plus, Street didn’t like being out of control.
“I’m sending you home for another day. I’ll rush these results and you should be cleared for tomorrow,” Razor told him, holding the cup out again.
“Fine,” Street said, taking the cup.
“Fill the container here so there are no questions.”
“Fuck,” Street said, sliding off the exam table. He quickly unzipped, pissed, capped, and set the container down with a thud on the rolling tray as Razor casually labeled the vials he’d drawn from Street.
“Wash your hands and go check on that Little girl.”
“Thank you, Razor,” Street said at the door when he reached the barrier.
“Come back with your head screwed on right,” Razor told him.
Street nodded and headed out. Another day with Rosa was just what he needed. Who was he kidding? He wanted a lifetime.
Roaring up to his house a few moments later, Street triggered the garage door opener and reversed his cycle into one side.
He walked into the kitchen and heard an unmistakable sound.
Rosa was singing. Horribly and off-key. At the top of her lungs.
Enchanted by the cute fun-loving side he suspected she never revealed to others, Street unfastened his work boots as fast as possible and left them on the mat by the door.
He hoped she’d trust him enough to share this protected side of her.
Grinning from ear to ear, Street went exploring. The spare room was empty. She wasn’t in the guest bathroom. His bed was neatly made up, and her clean clothes he’d left on the dresser where she would see them hadn’t moved.
“Rosa? I’m home.”
“Street? Oh, my God. I’m in the bathtub.”
“Did you use bubbles?” he asked.
After a brief pause, Rosa answered tentatively, “Yes.”
“Good.” Street strode inside and leaned against the wall to memorize the sight of Rosa in the middle of a foamy explosion. Her hair was in a messy bun on top of her head. She looked absolutely adorable and utterly fuckable.
“Aren’t you supposed to be at work?” she asked. “Did you come back to take a bubble bath with me?”
Delighted by the invitation, Street chose not to waste the chance. “Glad to see me, hmmm?” he asked, reaching behind him to grab the back of his T-shirt and pull the garment off over his head.