Chapter 7

Quinn

I took one look at tall and sexy bleeding all over the street, holding that damn dog, and I don’t know what came over me. Like the Grinch whose heart grew seven sizes, I felt like my chest had shrunk and my heart grew.

I unlocked the hospital and walked over grabbing the supplies I needed, like alcohol, cotton balls, gauze and, for an ice pack, I had some frozen peas upstairs.

I went back out and locked back up. Can’t be too safe with all the pharmaceuticals in the hospital. Even with the VP of the local MC at the front door.

“Come on, gorgeous, let’s get you cleaned up.”

Elijah grinned down at me.

“Gorgeous, huh?

“Shut up. I meant the dog,” I said.

We walked around the hospital to the stairs around back. We got to my door and I noticed the blood up the stairs. Opening the door to my small little cottage apartment, Elijah looks around.

“Nice place.”

“Sit down.”

He put Gareth down. Gareth headed immediately to the kitchen rug and went to sleep. Elijah sat on the counter. I point to the chair.

“If you sit there, I’ll never be able to reach your face.”

He smirks at me. “Reach where ever you can.”

I put on my best hospital face (not that any of my four-legged clients care how I look at them) and he jumped off the counter and walked into my very small kitchen with the little bistro table and chairs. The furnishings look like a doll house table and chairs next to him. He sat down and managed to not break anything.

I retrieved the cotton balls and paper towels, and headed over to the sink. I got the cold water coming out of the faucet and walked over to the fridge. I opened the freezer, grabbed the frozen peas, and said “Heads up” before tossing them over to him.

Once the water was cool enough, I wet the paper towel, and came back over, trying to calm myself. I began dabbing at his lips while he was holding the improvised ice pack to his face. I was shaking. He put the ice pack down.

“What’s wrong?”

I can’t answer him. Too much of the past is mixing with the present, like adding vodka to juice and seeing them swirling together. A tear flows down my cheek, which I hastily brush away.

He moves my hand away from his face. I look down. I just can’t meet his eyes. I feel his hands on my face, cupping me gently.

“It’s alright. Take it slow. Take a breath.”

I shook my head, pushed his hands away, and grabbed at the paper towel blindly through my tears. He rubs arms and turns me toward him. I saw his lips, oh God, his nice, plump lips. Getting closer. He pulls me close and those wonderful lips find mine. I melt against him and open to him. He pulls back.

“Ow, that’s kind of tender.”

I quirk my head him.

“Too tender?”

He gave me his wolf grin.

“Never.”

His next kiss crushes me to him and if I thought the kiss in truck was good, it was nothing like the fireworks I felt exploding from my whole being. I moved my hands to his back and felt the strength in the muscles I felt through his shirt.

His hands come around the back and slipped the lab jacket off me that was splattered with his blood. He pushed it off my shoulder. It falls around my feet somewhere. I lost track. His hands find their way underneath my shirt, heading north, thumb first. They slip under my bra, teasing my nipples, which harden forcing a moan out of me. With years of practice, he reached his hand behind and unclipped my bra. As he pulled me onto his lap, I sensed just how hard he is underneath me.

Everything about this man tells me to run and everything about this man tells me I should stay. Is this how mom felt?

His kisses carry me away from anything that might have mattered before until the only feeling in my universe is him – his smell, his hard member rubbing me through my pants, the feeling of the heat, I know only he can cool.

My shirt and bra end up on the floor with the jacket. He lowered his head to my breasts, nuzzling, pulling, until I can think of nothing else but him. He picks me up and I wrap my legs around him.

“Bedroom,” he mumbles against my lips.

I motioned down the hall. He kicked the door open and we walk in and he laid me down on my bed. I push back up and take his cut off, then his shirt, and see his massive chest in all its majesty and there was more than enough for me to roam my hands around.

I leaned forward and captured his nipple between my teeth and applied just a little pressure.

“No.” He shook his head.

He pushed me back on the bed and expertly, undid my jeans and slipped them down. Then came my thong, soaked. I made to get up to undo his pants. He put a hand on my chest and pushed me gently backwards.

He slide off to the side of the bed and undid his pants. He was a briefs guy. My kind of man. He slid them off his pants and my, oh, my. The reality lived up to the fantasy. Women will say it’s length that matter, but you have to have girth and he had both.

His lips found my nipples again and I felt my whole being melt and shatter once, twice. His hand found the core of me, slipping, in and out, until I called for him.

“Elijah.”

His moan vibrated against my skin and I raised my hips to him. When he entered me, he was a big boy. He moved slow and I accompanied him, rising to him and back, like the ocean tides. Once I was used to him, he moved a little faster, I shuddered.

“Quinn, oh, Quinn.” He pushed himself in one last time. I screamed.

Later, as I was laying against his back, I moved my hands down his back and felt a couple of scars. I moved back.

“Bullet holes,” he said, sleepily.

I stiffened.

He rolled over.

“MC stuff?” I asked.

He just looked at me with those gorgeous, thick lashed eyes.

“Damn,” I said.

“What is it about it that bothers you so much?” Not angry, curious.

I’m not a coward by a long shot, but I was scared shitless. Vulnerable.

“Babe?” He placed his arms around me and pulled me against him and we’re eye to eye.

“Anything you tell me, it’s okay. Let me guess. You heard the news, saw the show, went to a bar. Something like that.”

“Um, no.”

“No?”

I shook my head and took a big breath.

“I was the news.”

His brow creased.

“Explain,” he said, not ungently.

“My mom,” I said, “My mom was in love with an MC founder.

“Okay, keep going,” he said

I shook my head as if trying to get the memories clear and make it sound coherent and not vomiting detritus from my past.

“He was her life and she was his until I was 12. My father was murdered. He was a 1%. They not only murdered him, they tortured him, and burned him. Over a stupid drug deal.”

Elijah leaned backwards into the pillows. “Zack Hopson,” he said.

“Yes. I was 12 years old, my face was plastered all over the media. My mom was grieving so she couldn’t help. She never got over him. She carried his torch until she died five years ago. I told myself I would never love like that. She made me promise never to fall in love. And if I couldn’t help myself, never with a biker.”

“I'm so sorry,” Elijah said. “Your dad was a good man. I heard through the grapevine that his killers got what they deserved.”

I nodded. The President of the MC came to my house and gave my mom a handful of torn off emblems. His funeral procession had hundreds of bikes. And once again, my picture was on the news.

A single tear fell from my face. That tear was followed by many more until I was sobbing. His arms cradled and me and I felt…relief.

“That's one of the reasons I came all the way out here to South Dakota. To start fresh, not have anybody look at me with those eyes.”

My eyes met Elijah’s.

“I hate pity.”

Elijah nodded and wrapped me in his arms.

“This is a place to start anew,” he said.

I guess it is. I leaned backwards and for the next hour knew nothing but Elijah.

In the morning over coffee and scrambled eggs, (because I found out Elijah loves scrambled eggs and that man can eat), he told me a little bit about the poker run that was coming up.

“Poker run? What’s that?” I asked. I tossed some egg Gareth’s way. He gobbled it down. I got up and made him a plate of eggs, too, while Elijah explained.

“Well, each member of the different clubs pays a fee. You go to five bars. You get dealt a card and you go on to the next bar. At the final bar, you see your hand and the one with the best hand wins a pot with the rest going to charity. This year, we’re sponsoring and decided that we would be donating to the children’s home south of Rapid.”

I sat down and pushed my eggs around.

“What’s up?”

“I thought MCs just, you know?” I shrugged.

Elijah put down his fork and reached over and put my hand in his

“I know you’ve been through a lot. I don’t know what you've heard about other MCs or what your dad was into, but we don't work that way here. Yeah, there’s some illegal shit we do. But we’re about family. Come with me and I’ll show you.”

I asked, “When's the next poker run?”

Elijah smiled at me. “Day after tomorrow. You game?”

I smiled back.