to work. Shane’s eyes meet mine and the connection sizzles between us once more. I shouldn’t feel anything for a man this dangerous, but my thudding heart isn’t slowing down.
2
Whizz
The ER is busy. Doctors and nurses bustle past the cubicle I’ve been shoved in, but no one shows any sign of coming to me. I was given a couple of painkillers for my wrist and left to it. The annoying thing is I can probably treat my fucking self, but when I called Omen to tell him what happened, he ordered me to get treated, so my arse is staying put. Part of me is also hoping I run into Amy again. I’d noticed the pretty little nurse. I would have to be blind not to. Even in pain she piqued my interest.
I glance up and see two of the Tennessee chapter at the nurses’ station. The petite woman talking to them seems a little anxious at having the two men in her space. I don’t blame her; the two men suck the air out of any room they step into.
Havoc, Tennessee’s vice president, is huge with dark hair and a thick beard that makes him look like a fucking bear. Crank is no smaller and has a shaved head that makes him look savage, but the brother is a fucking joker. In the two weeks I’ve been in Tennessee, I’ve learned there’s not much he can’t joke about.
Crank notices me first and wanders over, Havoc on his heels.
“If you didn’t like your room, all you had to do was say,” Crank grins. “Didn’t have to get yourself banged up to get new digs.”
I snort. The room I was given at the clubhouse is basic, but it has a bed and a shower, which is all I need. My days in the British Army taught me to travel light and sleep anywhere. They taught me a lot more shit that I’ve used in my time with the Sons too.
“I just got tired of seeing your ugly mug,” I fire back, a grin of my own playing over my lips.
I’ve only been in town a few weeks, but already these men feel like family. That’s what the club is—family. Doesn’t matter which chapter I visit, we’re a brotherhood, joined by the name on our backs. The Sons will always be home, no matter which chapter I’m with, but despite that, I do miss my brothers back in London. I know they’re only on the other end of a phone, but it’s not the same.
Havoc isn’t interested in bantering. His eyes scan over my strapped-up arm, done by the paramedics, and the gauze holding my cheek together and his mouth pulls into a tight line.
“How are you doing, brother?”
“Better than Betty. The bike’s fucked. Sorry.”
Havoc shrugs. “Rather the bike than burying a brother.”
“Ravage would fucking kill us if we sent you back in a body bag,” Crank adds, folding his arms over his broad chest, the leather of his kutte crinkling.
I snort. He would, especially considering the reason I’m here, a reason only Havoc and his president, Omen, know about.
The Tennessee chapter runs guns for us and the rest of our UK chapters, but the last few runs they’ve done have been intercepted by rivals of the club. Omen’s worried they have a fox in the hen house, and Rav was worried enough to send me over to work out what’s going on. We can’t afford to lose our gun links. We can trade with our Irish brothers, but our American friends can get us military grade equipment easily, which is what we really want.
“We’ll arrange getting the bike back to the clubhouse. Chains can repair it,” Havoc says.
“It’s pretty fucked up. Not sure he’ll be able to.”
I sink back against the pillows. My head is fucking throbbing, my cheek too. As my eyes scan across the ER’s main floor, that’s when I see her—my nurse.
Amy is standing at the nurses’ station, talking with the small woman Havoc and Chains scared. She has a plaster covering her forehead and she’s wearing a pair of scrubs that hug her body in a way that should be illegal.
I’m not sure what to make of her. She didn’t take my shit earlier, calling me out for it, and I kind of liked that. Most women see the patch and are either terrified of what we are or enthralled. She was neither and that fucking intrigues me.
She meets my eyes and I see her face soften