Skirt (Ruthless Kings MC #5) - K.L. Savage Page 0,12
rises and falls from exertion. My arse begins to throb when the adrenaline starts to crash, and that’s when I remember I just got needles plucked out of me. I rub my forehead against my shoulder and remember I have my fucking cell phone on me. Christ, I can be such an airhead sometimes.
I type Doc a quick message.
“Get the fuck down here. Moretti just had a seizure.”
My cheeks bubble as I blow out a breath when I hear boots pound along the floor. “Porch, main room, kitchen,” I say as I follow where Doc is walking, and then the basement door opens. “Basement.”
“Oh, you’re good. What gave that away?”
I narrow my eyes at the new pain in my arse, laying stock still as if she’s trying to catch a quick snooze. The bruises and cuts are just a front, but she’s just a five-foot-one body packed with damn attitude, and I bet the other guy she fought looks worse than she does.
Doc slides down the rail on the staircase and jumps down to the floor. He doesn’t bother with me or the woman; he runs straight to Moretti. He slides the pale yellow curtain closed to give him and the mobster some privacy. I’m not sure how much longer Moretti’s body can handle this. He’s healing on the outside, but the inside? It’s like he is getting worse. If it were me, which I’m glad it’s not, but if it was, I’d want someone to put me out of my misery.
I shuffle over to my bed, but before I sit, I freeze, thinking better of it. Nope. Better not do that. I push my hands against the mattress, holding weight of my body as I pull my legs up and then lay on my stomach. “Oh yeah, that’s the damn stuff right there.” I sink into the mattress, and the blankets are nice and warm.
“What happened to you?”
Her eyes are the color of evergreen. They say the eyes are the windows to the soul. If that’s the case, she’s a forest waiting to be explored, so much beauty and so much mystery. I can wager if someone, anyone, tries to figure her out, they’ll get lost in the many directions that lay inside of her, forever trying to find their way to her heart.
I bet many men have failed on that quest.
I don’t plan to fail.
“Where am I?” Her eyes widen a bit more and the familiar monitor starts to beep. “Who are you? Where am I? What happened?” She snaps out of her haze, and reality comes crashing down. Her bottom lip trembles.
Oh, shite. I’m horrible when women cry. Lagoons form in their eyes, and I’m helpless.
Doc slides the curtain from Moretti’s bed. He has a grim expression on his face. I’ve seen that look before. He’s running out of hope for Moretti. Doc approaches her bed and pulls a small black flashlight out of his pocket and peers into her eyes. She jerks away from him, then slaps his hand away.
“Who the hell are you?” she cries to him. “Don’t touch me. Don’t fucking touch me!” she screams and slaps Doc’s chest. “Get away from me. Get off me!” The woman won’t stop shouting, and her pleas to leave her alone break my heart. She’s obviously been fighting for far too long.
“Hey, look at me,” I say as Doc gets ahold of her wrist. She lands those green eyes on me, and I’m a goner. A tear falls from the puddles filling her eyes, and I watch as it slowly flows down her cheek, causing a wet shiny path. “Yer okay here. That’s our doctor. We call him Doc. Yer okay,” I repeat, hoping my words calm her.
“Skirt here found you on the side of the road.” Doc nudges his chin in my direction while holding her wrists. “He got in an accident to avoid hitting you.”
“You should have left me there,” she sobs and yanks her wrists away from Doc’s grip. “You should have left me.”
“We will never leave a woman in harm’s way. What’s your name?” Doc asks as he places his stethoscope in his ears and listens to her heart.
“Dawson West. My friends call me Dawn.” She gives Doc and I a once-over with her eyes, lingering on me for a bit longer than normal. “I guess you can call me that since you saved me,” she says. Dawn wipes her eyes on her arm, but it’s no use; the tears are replaced again.