Until Amy - Jessica Ames Page 0,19
between me and Shane. I’m sure all my colleagues will be. Dating a biker isn’t exactly a good way to fly under the radar.
Shane peers up as I step back around the curtain, closing it behind me. I feel his eyes on me as I unpack the stuff I need and then go to work. The cut has healed well. It’s still red and raised, though.
“This looks good, though I think you’re going to have a scar.”
He shrugs. “Got plenty. What’s one more?”
“You get your scars in the army?”
“Some. A few from my time with the Sons.”
A shiver runs through me. “Your life is dangerous?”
“Life in general is dangerous. Tomorrow ain’t promised.”
It’s not, but the casual way he talks about that scares me a little. Does he really have such a lack of regard for his own life?
“Don’t talk like that,” I murmur as I start to remove the stitches.
“It’s true. Never knew if I’d come home in the forces either. I’ve lived a life that has always been dangerous, babe. Used to it.”
I remove the last of the stitches and stare at his cheek. “Done.”
His hands come to my hips and this time, I manage not to flinch at his touch. He smiles and God, I want to get lost in him.
“I’m looking forward to tonight.”
“Me too.” The thought of having him to myself all night makes the butterflies in my stomach take flight.
“I wish I could ride. You on the back of my bike would be perfect.”
“You have about five weeks more in that cast.”
“It’s fucking bollocks.”
I snort at how pronounced his accent is as he says the word. “Bollocks, eh?”
His fingers caress against my hips. “I want you wrapped around me.”
I dip my head and kiss him. I can’t seem to keep my hands off him, not that he seems to mind. “It’ll be off before you know it. Then you can take me on all the bike rides you want to.”
“I’ll hold you to that.”
I clean up my stuff and pull the curtain back around. Julia’s no longer at the nurses’ station, which I’m grateful for. I’m sure she’d know what I’ve been doing just by looking at me.
I walk with Shane, heading for the main exit.
“I’ll see you later,” I say.
His eyes roam over my face. “Later, babe.”
I watch him walk out, my gaze locked on his ass which perfectly fills out his jeans. Yeah, the man is perfect and he’s all mine.
10
Whizz
After I get back from the hospital I head straight for the clubhouse. As soon as I set foot in the common room, I can feel the tension in the air. It is thick, cloying and it swirls heavily around me. I peer around the room, trying to figure out what has me on edge and see Crank is sitting at the bar, while Chains watches on, as if guarding him. It’s a dynamic I’ve noticed since I’ve been with the Tennessee boys. Chains is never far from Crank. Don’t know if there’s something going on there, I’ve seen Crank with a few of the club bunnies since I’ve been here, or if it’s just a solid friendship, but Chains watches over him like a guardian fucking dark angel.
Chains is a quiet bloke, hardly ever opens his mouth. He reminds me of Fury, though less lethal. Him and Crank seem like an odd mix. Crank’s the life and soul of the fucking party—usually. Today, his jaw is dragging the floor. Chains is the creep hiding in the shadows.
I slip onto the stool next to him and wait for the prospect, Mac, to bring a drink over. A bang behind me has me jolting in my seat. For a moment, I’m transported back to some overseas hell hole, bullets flying around my head, noise filling my ears. I can taste the sand coating my tongue, can feel the sun burning my skin, can feel the blood drenching my hands. Fear claws at my throat as I take a stuttering breath, trying to force myself back to the present. I’m not in a war zone. Not anymore. I’m safe.
A hand on my shoulder has me flinching. I blink, clearing the images from my eyes and Crank’s face comes into view.
“Brother? It’s just Mac. He dropped a tray.”
My heart still pounding, I swallow down my terror and realize I’m clinging to Crank. I release my grip on his arms.
“Fuck…”
I tear my fingers through my short hair, trying to control my breathing while Crank pats my shoulder.
“Sorry.”
“We’ve