CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
T-Bear woke up on Wednesday.
By then, Manda had—thank Jesus—been able to shower with Billie's help, and have her hair blown dry.
She still couldn't wear a regular shirt, but Sara showed up with a darling mauve, wrap-style top and helped Manda don it, sans bra, because the strap rubbed on her bandage, and hurt. The top came with a mauve-and-cream flowered maxi skirt that Sara said was too short on her, and she'd lost the receipt so would Manda please accept it, thus taking it off Sara's hands.
Manda knew a kind gesture when she saw one, but she merely thanked the Flyers' first old lady, and received a smile in return that warmed her clear through. Sara Cannon was not only tough enough to take on Stick Vanko as a partner, she was pure class.
Thus fashionably clad, even with the addition of a big, silky, beige-striped scarf as a sling for her injured arm, Manda walked to T's room. Her tummy was jumping with nerves.
But when she entered his room, she found his bed surrounded by several of his stalwart brothers, all talking and laughing, so she could see only bits of him between their bodies. Okay, no. She was not even asking these men to let her through, not when she wasn't at all sure of her welcome.
She backed toward the door, but stopped abruptly when she bumped painfully into a tall, rock-hard body. A big hand landed carefully on her uninjured shoulder, and Ivan Vanko's deep, cool voice cut through the chatter.
"T, got someone here to see you. Bounce, Pete, you wanna make way there?"
The Flyers turned, and Manda found herself the object of all their gazes. But to her utter shock, they were all smiling—at her! Had the Earth tilted on its axis? Had they all been smoking weed at breakfast?
Then she looked into the one unsmiling face in the room.
T-Bear sat propped up on what looked to be a firm wedge under his pillow. He wore no shirt, and his broad chest bore a bandage on his left pectoral, stark white against his lightly freckled, hair-spangled chest.
Perhaps most shocking of all, he'd had his wild beard trimmed, neatly following the angle of his broad jaw and chin. His 'stache had been trimmed as well, framing his wide mouth in a sexy, attractive fashion. His wild hair was pulled back, a few stray curls at his temples.
He looked wonderful, and sexy and... not happy to see her. He was frowning, his brows drawn together and his hazel eyes fiery.
She looked away, fighting the hot tears pricking her eyes, and pushed back against the man behind her. "I have to go," she mumbled.
T's deep, rough voice engulfed hers. "Manda, what the fuck happened to you? Why're you wearin' a sling?"
Manda stared at him. Then she opened her mouth, and closed it again, pulling her lower lip between her teeth. "Well, I..."
She couldn't even think where to start. And none of the big men in the room offered to help her out, either.
Rocker merely watched her struggle, his dark eyes twinkling, and Pete Vanko smirked. Moke watched in his silent way. And Bouncer sneered as if he expected her to screw up somehow.
"Well, somebody talk, for chrissakes," T roared. "Did Faro rough her up after I passed out, or what?" He winced, and lifted one big hand to his chest, his ruddy face paling. "Ow, fu-uck... that hurt."
Manda rushed to his side. "T-Bear Turner! Stop yelling, you're going to hurt yourself." She reached to put a soothing hand on his chest, but stopped, pulling her hand back and wincing herself as her own abrupt motion pulled at her healing injury.
"Jesus, you two," Rocker muttered. "Manda, sit. T, settle." He gave Manda a gentle push to sit on the edge of T's bed.
"All right, everyone clear out," Stick Vanko ordered. "They don't need an audience."
"Aw, c'mon," Pete Vanko complained. "I don't wanna miss the good part."
"Get the fuck out," T said hoarsely, his gaze on Manda. But when she drew back, hurt as if he'd slapped her, he grabbed her hand. "No, not you, honey girl."
His big, warm hand enveloped hers, and he hung on, even though perspiration had dampened his face, and his jaw was set.
"You're hurting," she protested. "You need painkillers."
"I'll give Knife a heads-up," Pete said, on his way out of the room.
"No, not yet. I need you to talk t'me," T muttered, his eyes closed, lashes like russet fans on his pale skin. "I'm just gonna lay real still for a minute, 'kay?"
The door shut behind his friends, for the moment anyway.
Manda tried to pry her hand carefully from his. "I'm going to go get Knife right now."
"No. Tired of being doped up. An' I ain't lettin' you go till you talk to me," he told her. "So you want me to feel better, start talkin'."
Manda huffed her annoyance at him. "Big stubborn ginger. You've inhaled too many exhaust fumes at JJ's, and killed brain cells you couldn't afford to lose."
"Babe," he said, his eyes still shut. "Don't make me laugh, 'cause that hurts too."
Tears welled up, and she drew a choked breath. "Oh, T. I'm so sorry. It's my fault you were shot... Tim and his stupid psycho friends."
At this, T's eyes opened, and he glared at her. "Whoa. You get that notion outta your head right now, hear? Faro targeted me first, then you. None o' that's your fault."
"He targeted you?"
"Yep. He's the one sent Krystelle after one of us. She picked me—why I dunno. Stole my phone for my contact list of brothers. Then Faro tried to sic you on me too. The showdown between him and the Flyers... it was gonna happen one way or another."
Manda nodded. "To get in on the shipments from the Black Wolves."
"That's partly it." He stroked the back of her hand with his thumb and gave her a somber look. "An' because he had dreams of bein' a big fuckin' deal pimp and runnin' whores through the casino over in their territory in So-Dak."
"Chaske," she whispered, remembering. "Chaske Firestick or something like that. He and Rezan were going into business together."
"Yep." His grip on her hand tightened, and his gaze darkened, making him look dangerous. "Bad business. And now, you gotta forget you ever heard the name Chaske Firewalker, or anything about his deal with Faro. I'm dead serious, honey girl. He's for the Wolves to deal with now, not us. Shit's gonna hit the fan over there, an' we don't want the Wolves to know anyone but our officers knew about any of it. You get me?"
Manda nodded quickly. "I get you. I won't ever mention it again, I promise."
His expression and his grip eased. He smiled at her with his eyes. "That's my smart woman. Knew you'd see the light." Then his gaze swept down over the sling on her arm. "Now, you wanna explain to me how the fuck you got hurt, and whose ass I gotta pound into the dirt when I get outta this bed?"
She froze. "Um...no one? It was, uh, an accident."
T-Bear proved once again that he might be an amiable ginger giant, but he was by no means stupid. He raised a brow at her. "Wanna try again? I seen the way my brothers were lookin' at you—even if none of 'em had the decency to tell me you was hurt—and I seen the way Stick was treatin' you like some kinda little queen. What'd you do, honey girl?"
Manda's face flushed with heat. "Well... something stupid. But I was just so scared—and I didn't want Rezan to shoot you. I couldn't let him do that. I couldn't."
"Aww, fuck me. Now I remember.” His eyes widened in horror. "You jumped in front of me… tried to push me outta the way of Faro's bullet."
She nodded hesitantly.
He closed his eyes and groaned, his jaw tightening until the cords stood out on his thick neck, and his biceps bulged.
"T, honey," Manda said, freeing her hand from his and reaching to cup his cheek. "Don't, don't. I said it was stupid, but I didn't mean it. I'd do it again, a hundred times. And it's just a little cut on my arm, honestly. Knife says I'll hardly even have a scar. He says I can get a—a tattoo to hide it."
"Little cut, huh? How many stitches?"
"Um... seventeen."
"Aw, cheezus." He turned his face into her hand and exhaled, his breath hot and damp on her palm. "What'm I gonna do with you? Too damn brave for your own good."
"Oh, no, it was just… I didn’t think."
Reaching up, he covered her hand with his, and looked at her over their hands, his gaze unreadable. "So, would you've done the same for Bounce, or Cooler?"
Manda's head went back. "No!" But when his eyes flashed with satisfaction, she back-pedaled rapidly, or tried. "I—I mean, I don't know. It just happened so fast. I didn't think, I just did it."
And she was blushing again, darn it. But how could she help it when he was giving her that look, so full of heat it nearly scorched her skin.
Then he assumed a put-upon look. "Guess that means I gotta do it," he said.
She frowned at him. "Do what?"
"I gotta do what you wanted," he said. "Gotta get to know you. Take you out on dates, an' shit. Take it slow."
She pulled on her hand, her frown deepening, although really a part of her was jumping up and down like a teen and squealing in excitement.
"Well, you certainly don't have to if you don't want to," she said. "And anyway, maybe I don't want to anymore. So—so you can ask. Then we'll just see."
He grinned slowly, that dirty, wicked smile she loved, and carried her hand to his chest, where his heart beat steadily under layers of plush skin, muscle and bone.
"Oh, you'll want to," he promised her. "And it'll be worth it, 'cause pretty soon we'll get to havin' sleepovers , and then a while after that, you'll have so much girly shit in my bathroom, and clothes in my bureau, that you'll realize you might just as well move in."
Entranced by his vision of their near future, she still protested at this. "T! I'm not moving in here to this clubhouse ."
"Hell, I know that," he said. "I'm gonna look around town and find a place to rent. A little house or somethin'. Anyway, as I was sayin', eventually you'll move in with me. Then we can just be alone together when we want, and when we're in the mood to party we'll come here or the Hangar. You'll cook me great dinners, and I'll take out the garbage and put the toilet seat down and shit like that. And life will be sah-weet."
Her heart melted in a puddle of warm goo inside her. And this time when he tugged on her hand she leaned into him—carefully—and smiled at him from a few inches away. He smelled more like himself again, that manly musky scent she loved. Intoxicating and comforting.
"Sounds like you've been reading my romance novels.”.
"Nope," he said. "Just had a lot of time to think when I haven't been sleepin' from all the damn drugs Knife's been pouring into me. And I figured out I was a hot-headed, jackass when I turned down your offer for us to spend time gettin' to know each other. You and me, we started backwards—although I gotta tell you, I don't regret one second of that first night we had. Like my hottest, sweetest fantasy comin' true when you climbed on that bed, showed me your sweet ass, and begged me to fuck you."
"But now," he went on, grinning when she blushed again. "Now we're gonna take our time, and do it right. 'Cause, thanks to you, we got that time, and no need to rush. And I have one good idea how we can do that—you can come and work at JJ's a couple afternoons a week. Moke got JJ to hire the club cleaning ladies to swing through once a week. Moke and me are gonna take more care too, so the bathroom'll be nice and clean. And you know there's a lock on that door, right?"
He was giving her a hot, dirty look that she loved, although she tried to hide this with a frown. "Are you telling me you want to do me in the restroom at an auto shop?"
"Oh, fuck yeah. An' everywhere else I can talk you into droppin' your lacy little panties. The Hangar has a sofa in the office, y'know."
She giggled. "Bikers—you have sex on the brain."
"I sure do, when you're around. Now gimme a kiss, an' then you better curl up beside me, 'cause I'm plumb wore out by all this excitement."
Well, she wasn't going to do that, because she was afraid of jostling him in his sleep and hurting his wound.
So instead, she gave him a kiss, and then another. Then she went out into the club room, where Knife was lounging at a table with the others.
The Flyers clammed up when they saw her, which she assumed meant they'd been discussing club business. She looked to Knife. "T's hurting. Can you give him another pill so he can sleep?"
The biker smirked. "You mean you didn't give him a little somethin' to help him drop off?"
She blushed, and the other Flyers chuckled. "Uh, no," she said. "But when he's feeling better, you better believe I will."
Rocker saluted her with his beer glass. "Preach on, mama."
Pete Vanko nodded. "That's more like it."
Stick Vanko gave her a slow wink, which flustered her more than any of the laughter or repartee.
Knife sighed, drained his beer, and rose with his usual scowl. "Aw right. Guess it's up to me to put T to sleep, if you ain't gonna oblige."
Okay, now he was kind of being a jerk. "Good," she said brightly. "Oh, and he likes it when you use your hands and your mouth."
Her face flamed with embarrassment. She could not believe she'd made a joke about giving her man a blow-job, in front of his biker brothers.
And neither could they, from the looks they were giving her. Brows up, Knife said something, but his reply was drowned out by the roar of laughter from the Devil's Flyers. Pete Vanko nearly fell out of his chair, Rocker pounded the table with his fist, and the others guffawed.
As Knife walked away, shaking his head, Moke rose from the table and offered one big hand to Manda, palm out. She slapped his hand, and he smiled at her. "Da kine, tita."
Bouncer pointed a burly arm at her. "That was righteous. You don't make it with T, don't matter. We're keepin' you!"
This caused another round of laughter, and Manda laughed too, even though it hurt. She felt as if she'd aced a math test or the like.
And when Sara appeared and wanted to know what they were all laughing about, she found the story as funny as the guys. She leaned on Stick's chair, laughing. "So cute—the girls will love this one. Can't wait to introduce you to Kit and Lindi. They're gonna love you for T as much as we do. And you'll like them, too."
Manda couldn't wait. Strange, that she'd finally found somewhere she was accepted just as she was, with a bunch of semi-lawless bikers and their women. All because of a 'date' with a big, ginger biker man.
Tim would just croak if he knew he and Rezan were the reason she'd found the best man she'd ever met.
So it looked like she had the last laugh.