Chapter Five

 

Blood awoke and glanced around at his surroundings. Judging by the faint gray light coming in from the windows, he figured it must be just after dawn. He kicked the covers off; they had been soaked with his sweat. The fever must have broken finally.

The room was a little cooler now, but he knew as soon as the sun rose and climbed in the sky, the room would heat up again. He saw the IV catheter sticking out of the top of his hand, taped down with clear medical tape. His eyes followed the tubing up to the bag rigged to the bedpost, and then his gaze fell to the woman dozing in the straight-backed chair at his bedside.

Well, goddamn. She was real. He thought he’d dreamed her up, but there she sat, his guardian angel, asleep in a chair. She was dressed in green scrubs, her long blonde hair tumbled in a ponytail over her shoulder, a cascade of silk he longed to run his fingers through. His eyes moved over her thin frame. It was hard to make out much about her figure in the baggy scrubs, but he made out the shape of breasts that would be at least a handful. Christ, he’s laying here half dead, and he was thinking about sex.

His eyes climbed up her long graceful neck to her angel face. Beautiful cheekbones, full pale pink lips made for kissing—or something better—delicately arced brows over big slanted eyes… A fringe of long lashes lay against her cheekbones as she slumbered, just a touch of mascara darkening them. A smattering of the barest freckles covered her nose.

Blood grinned, not sure why that got to him.

He didn’t know how long he’d been in this room. A few days? A week? It was all a fuzzy blur. But he remembered the girl and the way she’d bathed his skin with cool cloths, assuring him he would be okay. Promising him she’d…

His eyes darted to his hand still cuffed to the iron head rail. His ring was gone. She’d done as he’d asked and taken it, hadn’t she? Or had he just dreamed that? Had the Death Heads taken it like they had his cut?

His eyes moved over her then fell to her chest again. He seemed to remember her tucking it into her bra. Or did he imagine that, too? It was all so fuzzy.

He moved, and the cuffs rattled. Her eyes opened, and she looked blankly over at him, their gazes locking. Blue. They were blue, just like in his dream, blue and beautiful. And they were staring wide-eyed and innocent into his.

“My angel,” he murmured.

She licked her lips and frowned. “What?”

He just grinned back at her.

“You’re awake,” she said in a soft voice that melted over him like honey.

He nodded, kicking the covers farther off him.

She noticed and reached for his forehead. “You’re clammy. That’s good. It means the fever has broken.” Her eyes moved to the IV above his head. “You still have about an hour’s worth left of fluids. I gave you a second one during the night. Each last about six hours.”

He nodded.

“Do you want some water?” she asked, standing.

“Please,” he rasped out.

She helped him sit up, jamming a pillow behind him so he could sit against the headboard. Then she brought a bottle of water to his lips. With one hand still cuffed and the other with an IV he wasn’t the most coordinated, but he was able to take the bottle.

“Thanks.” His eyes stayed on her as he guzzled half the bottle.

“Do you…have to use the restroom?” she asked hesitantly.

He shook his head. “No.”

“Probably because you were so dehydrated.”

He nodded taking another long drink, his eyes on her. When he pulled the bottle back down, he said, “I thought I dreamed you.”

Her smile lit up her face and took his breath.

“I’m real.” Her eyes moved around the room. “Unfortunately.”

He nodded, realizing she didn’t want to be here anymore than he did. He lifted his chin toward the man asleep on the hallway floor. “You with them?”

Her eyes got big. “Me? No. I’m definitely not with them.”

“Then how’d you end up here?”

“It’s a long story.”

He rattled the cuff. “I’ve got time.”

She cocked her head to the side, her eyes moving to the handcuff. “How’d you end up here?”

“Just in the wrong place at the wrong time.” He glanced toward the hallway again, uncertain how much he should share. He still didn’t know her relationship with these assholes, and he wasn’t sure he could trust her. He studied her eyes. She’d taken his ring though and made that promise to him. Why would she do that if she was working with them?

Blood had lived most of his life knowing when to keep his mouth shut, being careful with giving his trust out. It was a hard lesson he’d learned very early in life—one he wasn’t about to forget now. But she’d helped him, and in the position he was in she might be the only shot he had, the only person who might be able to get him out of here. Or, at the least, she might be able to get word out to his club.

Way he saw it, he didn’t have much of a choice. He’d have to take a chance on her. “You’re still in your scrubs. They kidnap you out of a hospital parking lot?”

She frowned. “Where did you come up with that?”

“It’s what I’d do,” he admitted and watched her chin lift. Hell, he was just being honest, but he could see she didn’t care for his answer. She’d treated him, but she didn’t like him, or maybe more specifically, men like him. “You don’t like me much, do you?”

“You’re a biker, like them. And I don’t like bikers.”

He shook his head slowly. “Not like them. My club and the Death Heads are sworn enemies.”

“Well, I didn’t think they had you cuffed to the bed because they liked you.”

He gave her half a smile. Sarcastic little wench.

“So…you came on their turf and—”

He cut her off. “This isn’t Death Heads turf. This is Evil Dead turf.”

“Evil Dead. That was on your ring.”

He nodded. She was observant, too. “Evil Dead MC. My club.”

“So—” She looked toward the hallway. “If this isn’t their territory, what are they doing here?”

“Hell if I know.”

“And if you’re enemies, why are they concerned enough to get you medical care? Weren’t they the ones who shot you in the first place?”

He watched the pretty little frown on her face. She was sarcastic, observant, and smart.

“Been wonderin’ that myself. Maybe they didn’t mean to shoot me. Or maybe they decided I could be of better use if I’m kept alive.”

“For what?”

He shrugged. “Haven’t figured that out yet. Maybe for leverage with my club. A bargaining chip.”

“To get what?”

She was sarcastic, observant, smart, and curious. Blood shook his head. “Doesn’t concern you, Doc.”

“I told you, I’m not a doctor.”

“Fine, then I’ll call you Scrubs.”

Her brows arched. “Not if you want me to answer.”

He fought back a smile. “What’s your name?”

“Catherine. My friends call me Cat.”

“Cat.” He tried it out on his tongue and nodded. “Suits you.”

“I said my friends call me that.”

His brows shot up. “And I’m not included in that bunch, is that what you’re sayin’? Honey, right now, right here, I’m the only friend you’ve got.”

She looked toward the hallway. “I’m just here to get you well. That’s all.”

“You still got my ring?”

Her head swiveled back, and she put a hand to her breastbone. “Yes.”

So, he hadn’t dreamed that part. She had stuck it in her bra. He nodded and whispered, “Think you could get to a phone? Make a call?”

Her eyes were sharp when they met his, and she answered in an equally hushed tone. “You mean call the police?”

He shook his head with a grimace. “No. No police. MCs don’t ever call the police.”

She gave him a stunned look. “Even now?”

“Even now.”

“Then who?”

“My club. You get word to them, they’ll get us both out of here.”

“Both of us? Why would they give a damn about me? ”

“Listen to me, Cat. I give you my word, I’ll take you with me.”

She eyed him as if she were weighing his words and the strength of his promise. In the end, she shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. I don’t have my phone. I don’t have anything but the supplies.” She gestured toward the duffel on the floor.

His eyes fell to it, and then he looked toward the man in the hall. “Think you could get his?”

“If I tried and woke him,” she broke off, shaking her head. “I’m not sure what he’d do.”

“What about the rest? They all passed out downstairs?”

“I don’t know.” She moved to the window and peered out. “There’s a guy out in the backyard by the bikes taking a piss.”

Blood’s eyes again fell to that duffel on the floor. “Where’d you get the supplies?”

“The hospital where I work.”

“What if you needed more? Would they take you back to get them?”

She bit her lip and looked toward the hall. It was the cutest little gesture he’d ever seen. There was something about the way her perfect teeth bit into that plump bottom lip that really got to him. She turned back, and his eyes lifted.

“Babe? Would they take you?” he pressed when she didn’t reply.

“Maybe,” she admitted.

He nodded, suddenly feeling the strangest need to protect her. Feelings of protectiveness for women weren’t completely foreign to him, but they were damn rare. There was something about this one that brought it out in him in spades. There was a worldliness about her, but there was an innocence, too—innocence he felt the need to protect. She was in way over her head here.

He lifted his chin toward the hallway. “Don’t care how you do it, but you get them to take you to the hospital. You do, you’ll be safe, away from them.”

“You still need treatment.”

“Don’t worry about me. You make that call for me, and I’ll take my chances with my club.”

She shook her head. “I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“It’s complicated.”

Blood frowned and then his jaw clenched. “You are with one of them, aren’t you?”

“No!” she hissed, trying not to be too loud. “I told you that. There’s not a chance in hell I’d ever be with a fucking biker.”

A fucking biker. Great, the only chance he had rested with a woman who couldn’t stand the likes of him. Lovely. Well, he’d just have to change her mind about him then. “Sounds like there’s a story there. They hurt you?”

She shook her head.

“They have something they’re holding over you? Other than the threat of your own safety.” She looked away, and he had his answer. He felt the need to set her straight. “You’ve seen too much, you know. If you’re not with one of them—”

“I’m not!” she swore vehemently.

“Then they’ll never just let you go. Death Heads aren’t too keen on leaving loose ends. Witnesses being at the top of that list.”

“They promised. If I helped them, they promised—”

“Their promises don’t mean shit, little girl.”

“And yours do?” she snapped at him.

“I don’t make promises unless I mean them.”

She huffed. “Right.”

“Don’t trust them,” he warned.

“Look, if you die, maybe they’d kill me. But I’m not going to let you die.”

“Babe, they won’t let you live either way. You’ve seen too much. Once your usefulness is over, they’ll get rid of you.” He watched her face. Maybe he was getting through. Goddamn, he hated the fear his words put into her eyes. “I wish I could get you out of here.”

“Well, you can’t.”

“If you get to the hospital, you can get away.”

She stared at him.

“Look, all I’m asking is for you to make a phone call. I’m not asking you to let me go.”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because.”

“Because why, angel?”

She looked down and plucked at the hem of her shirt, and he knew she was struggling with telling him something.

“What is it?” he prodded. “What do they have on you?”

“They have my sister.”

Blood’s eyes slid closed. Fuck. If they were holding her sister as leverage, and he was betting they had her at another location, they could kill her before anyone could get to her. But there was one thing his pretty little blonde savior still didn’t seem to grasp. He opened his eyes and pinned her with a look. “When this is over, when your usefulness is done, they’ll kill you both. They aren’t going to let either of you go.”

Her eyes welled with tears. “But they promised. They said if I helped, they’d let her go.”

Blood shook his head. “They won’t. I guarantee it.”

A tear rolled down her cheek.

“Hey.” His hand moved over and took hers, giving it a squeeze. “I’m the only shot you’ve got of saving your sister.”

“You? How can you save her? You’re cuffed to the stupid bed.” She sniffled.

“You get that call out to my club, they’ll come busting in here and get us out. Then we’ll get your sister. Do you know where they’re keeping her?”

She wiped the wetness off her cheek. “Dax has her at my apartment.”

“Dax? Who the fuck is Dax?”

At his harsh words, she looked toward the hallway and then to him. “Shh… they’ll hear you.”

“Tell me,” he demanded in a softly spoken order.

“He used to be my brother-in-law.”

“Used to be?”

“My older sister was married to him.”

“They split up?”

“She was killed.”

Blood clenched his jaw, hating to see the pain on her face. “I’m sorry.”

She brushed it aside with a wave of her hand, like his apology was meaningless. And perhaps to her it was, but he’d meant it. This girl didn’t deserve to have such pain in her life. She didn’t deserve any of this shit. He’d only known her a day, but already he could decipher that much. “So, your brother-in-law is a Death Head, then?”

She shook her head. “No, but I think he wants to be. At least he wants to be on their good side. You see, Dax is a drug dealer. And when he gets on the wrong side of people like them, innocent people end up dead.”

“Your sister?” Blood frowned, linking the parts of this story together.

She nodded. “My sister.”

“What happened to her?” He was almost afraid to hear the answer.

She met his eyes with her clear blue ones. “Car bomb.”

Blood’s chin lifted, the pieces falling into place. “Meant for Dax.”

“And my sister paid the price.”

“But now he’s back in good with them?”

“Apparently. Or trying to be. I don’t know.”

“And he was good with putting both you and your sister in danger like this?”

She nodded. “Dax is only concerned with himself.”

“Dax is a dick.”

She grinned at that. “I couldn’t agree more.”

“When we get out of here, I’m gonna kill him for you.”

She looked at him with wide eyes. Obviously, no one had ever offered to solve the Dax problem for her before. He meant it. Every word, and he could see she saw that fact written on his face.

“I didn’t ask for your help.”

“No, cupcake. But you got it, just the same.”

She lifted her chin, considering. “You’re just saying that to get me to help you.”

“First of all, I shouldn’t have to talk you into helping me. I thought that’s what nurses do—help people. Second, no, I’m not just saying that. I don’t just say shit. Ever.”

He could see she hadn’t a clue how to take him. That was okay; she’d learn. He’d make sure she did—in more ways than one. In any other situation, Blood would already be all over her, would have backed her against the wall and shown her. He was the kind of man who took what he wanted where women were concerned. He didn’t chitchat with them—never had to. Dealing with women in this way was new for him. Cuffed to the bed, he was in a situation where he actually had to talk to her, get to know her, seduce her verbally into doing what he wanted. This was all new territory for him.

“You find me hard to handle, don’t you, babe?”

She scoffed and looked away. “I have no desire to ‘handle’ you at all, Blood.”

“Bet I could prove you wrong.”

“Right.”

“C’mere.”

She looked back at him.

He reached out, fisted his hand in the hem of her scrubs shirt, and pulled her down onto the edge of the bed. Then, quick as lightning, he hooked that hand around the back of her neck and pulled her down, capturing her mouth with his. Those lips of hers were just as soft and kissable as he imagined they’d be. They parted with her surprise, and he took full advantage, his tongue sweeping inside for a taste. It only lasted a second, before she was pushing off him and out of his reach. But that second told him all he needed to know—there was fire there, for both of them.

“You’ve got some crazy ideas if you think I’m interested in the likes of you. I’m no scared little virgin who’s going to go along with whatever you want.”

“You’re a real wildcat, you are.”

“You’ve misjudged me badly. I will never want a biker like you.”

“Never say never, angel.”

“You’re too much like my brother-in-law and this bunch to suit me, and I’m an expert on him.”

“Can’t blame a man for trying, sweetheart.”

“Don’t do that again.”

“Now that’s a promise I won’t be making.”

She folded her arms and sat in the chair, glaring at the wall.

“What do you do at the hospital?”

“I’m a nurse,” she replied, like he was a moron.

“I know you’re a nurse. What department? What’s your specialty?”

“I work in the departure lounge.”

His brows shot up. “The what?”

“It’s what we call the geriatric floor.”

His mouth pulled up. “Cute.”

“Want to know what we call motorcycles?”

“What?” He could hardly wait to hear this one.

“Donorcycles. It’s where we get most organ donations. Motorcycle fatalities.”

“Well, that’s morbid.”

She looked up at his IV bag. “You need another one.”

He watched as she got up and switched it out. He reached for a bottle of water and chugged it down while she worked. With her arms over his head, he had a perfect view of her chest. Naturally, she caught where his eyes were when she pulled back. In any other circumstance, he’d have wrapped one strong arm around her waist and lifted that top, helping himself to her breasts with his mouth. It was damned strange being in a fucking situation where the woman had the upper hand.

She stepped back and took the empty bottle from him. “After this bag, I can probably switch you over to oral antibiotics.”

“You got any of those?”

“Actually, no.”

“Hmm. Sounds like someone might have to make a run to the hospital.”

She blew out an exasperated breath. “Are you hungry?”

He shook his head. “But I bet you are. Ask them for some food. If you don’t, I guarantee they aren’t going to think about it.”

“Maybe I don’t want to remind them I’m up here.”

He nodded, taking her meaning, and looked toward the hall. It was a wonder they hadn’t come up for her yet, but that wouldn’t last for long. He needed to get her out of here. “They’ll be rousing in a couple hours. When they do, tell them you need more supplies.”

She looked toward the hall, but made no promises. She got up and stretched, then moved to the window again, peering out. The sun was up now, and the temperature was rising quickly. “What I really could use is some Vitamin X.”

Blood frowned, studying her. “That’s a new one.”

She looked over absently at him. “Sorry. Xanax.”

“More hospital humor. Cute.”

Their eyes met, and a small smile formed on her face. He answered it with one of his own.

 

***

 

Hours passed and the temperature in the room climbed. Blood continued to try to draw Cat in with conversation.

“You’re accent. It sounds more like Texas than New Orleans.”

She looked over at him. “That’s because I’m from Beaumont.”

“Beaumont, huh? How’d you end up here?”

“My dad died when I was seven. That’s when everything went to hell. We lost our house and ended up living in a rundown trailer in a crappy trailer park. My mom hooked up with one loser after another. Last one took an interest in Holly. That’s when I decided to get her out of there.”

“How’d you end up a nurse?”

“When I was in high school, I got a job at a small diner. The owners took me under their wing, telling me I could be anything I wanted. That I could rise above my upbringing and the bad start I had in life.

“With their help, I worked my way through a nursing program at the community college. I knew I wanted to get away from Beaumont. As far away as I could get.”

She moved around the bed and leaned over to check his wounds as she talked.

“Stacey never had that kind of help. She took off at sixteen and hooked up with that low-life loser, Dax. They got married. He started dealing drugs.”

She prodded at the wound after taking off the bandage. He groaned as the pain flashed through him.

“I need to change out the packing. I can give you something for the pain, inject it into the IV,” she offered.

He shook his head. “I’ve got to keep a clear head right now. I can’t be foggy from pain meds.”

She looked toward the closed door.

Blood followed her eyes. The men had started to rouse about an hour ago and the man in the hall had locked them in again.

“All right, then. I’ll get started.” She moved to set up her supplies, laying out a sterile pad, donning gloves and a mask, and ripping open new gauze.

Blood watched her, noticing—like he hadn’t when he was feverish—just how competent she was at what she did.

She moved toward him with a pair of tweezers. “I’ve got to pull the packing out. You may want to turn your head for this.”

He gave her a flat look. Did she think the sight of a little blood and gore would have him heaving over the side of the bed?

She shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

He watched as she dug out the wad of gauze bandaging she’d packed in his wound. It pulled on the healing, clotted tissue. He sucked in a breath as she pulled it free, and he hissed, “Jesus Christ! It didn’t hurt that bad getting shot.”

“Sorry. I’m trying to be gentle.”

He caught her look as she attempted to fight a grin. Gentle, my ass. Maybe it was a test to see just how much of a badass he was. He clenched his jaw as she prepared to repack the wound with gauze squares she’d dipped in saline.

He gritted out, “Finish your story. Take my mind off the torture you’re inflicting on me, Nurse Hotty.”

She grinned, but complied. “Dax got hooked up with the local biker club—our friends downstairs—the Death Heads.”

“They ain’t my friends.”

“Stacey died because of them. An accounting issue, they’d said. I can’t prove it, but I know that’s what happened. She called me the night before, begging me to help them. I pleaded with her to leave him, to come home. She wouldn’t. She died the next morning.”

“Sorry,” he whispered.

Her pretty blue eyes looked up from what she was doing and met his. “Are you?”

Then her eyes returned to what she was doing, and he hissed in another breath at the jolt of pain.

“Sorry,” she whispered.

“Are you?” He gave her words back to her and watched the corner of her mouth pull up. There was the slightest little dimple there.

She finished by placing a new square of gauze over his wound and taping it in place.

“Thank God, you’re finished.”

Apparently, she didn’t like where she’d applied the tape, because she pulled it off and reset it. He sucked in at the sharp yank. “Fuck.” He glared at her. “You did that on purpose.”

She rolled her eyes at him as she pulled off her gloves with a snap. “If we were in the hospital, I’d write BFB on your chart.”

“What the hell is BFB?” he glared at her, still pissed about what he was sure was intentional roughness on her part. And maybe, if he were being honest, he deserved it for grabbing and kissing her earlier.

“Big Fucking Baby.”

“Ha ha. Very funny. You know what I’d call you?”

“I can only imagine.”

“Nurse Sweetcheeks.”

She actually grinned at that—she tried to hide it from him, but he saw.

“How ‘bout a sponge bath?” he said. “Is that in your skill set? Maybe you can redeem yourself. Show me you’ve got a gentler touch.”

Her eyes skated down his body. “Well, you do stink.”

His brows shot up at that. “Thanks a lot.”

She moved to the other side of the bed and poured the last bottle of water into the empty ice bowl. Then she dipped a towel in, sat on the edge of the bed and began to wipe down his face and arms.

He watched her as she did it. Occasionally her eyes would flick up to meet his, but mostly she was all business, focusing on what she was doing. She swiped over his neck and then down his chest, over his abs to the edge of his low-riding jeans. He watched every little emotion on her face. She swallowed, the towel slowing its stroke, and he pounced.

“See something you like?”

Her eyes flicked up to his, and she quickened her movements. “I’m a nurse. I’ve seen it all.”

He grinned. He could tell his close scrutiny was making her nervous. She moved the towel over his armpit and the cuff rattled as he jerked.

She smirked up at him then. “Ticklish?”

“Hell no. It’s cold, is all.”

She lifted his other arm and repeated the motion. He grit his teeth, trying to keep from jerking under her touch.

“You are ticklish.”

“I get these cuffs off, maybe we’ll see how ticklish you are,” he threatened as she stood to wring out the towel in the bowl.

Her eyes connected with his, and they both knew it was a long shot that those cuffs would ever be coming off. It was also a reminder that she needed to decide if she was going to take a chance and help him.

“You gotta trust somebody, angel,” he murmured, reading her like a book. He lifted his eyes to the IV bag that was now empty. “Now’s your shot.”

Her eyes followed his and then moved to the door. He watched her stare off into space, considering her options.

“I would happily keep the world on the other side of that door for you if I could,” he whispered.

She looked at him with those big blue eyes—eyes that had seen too much in her young life, that still held a touch of vulnerability that called out to him to protect.

“C’mere.” He beckoned her softly.

She moved toward him as if pulled by a force she couldn’t fight, perhaps didn’t even understand.

He reached up and grasped her fingers, tugging her down on the edge of the bed. Then his hand moved to her cheek. His thumb brushed over her cheekbone, just a soft stroke as they stared at one another. Her eyes dropped to his mouth, and that was all the invitation he needed. He slid his hand into the hair behind her ear and pulled her to him.

He was gentle with her this time, just a brush of his lips over hers, but he came back again and again, until her mouth was opening under his, her tongue sweeping out to lightly explore. He let her take the lead. Just this once, he told himself.

Maybe it was the fact that he didn’t push or demand, like everything inside him was screaming for him to do, or maybe it was the fact that he was chained to the bed that made her feel safe with him. He didn’t know. He didn’t care. He was just glad she did. He didn’t want that to ever change, but in the back of his mind, he knew it would. He knew if he ever got out of here, if they ever both got out of here that would change. Because he wouldn’t be able to hold back with her anymore. The kid gloves would come off.

She angled her head, continuing the slow soft kisses that were getting him aroused, his dick pressing hard against the zipper of his jeans. It wasn’t used to being denied. Ever.

Eventually, she pulled back, and he stared up into her wide eyes. She looked as confused as he was by all this, but he saw desire there, too. She may not like bikers very much, but she was attracted to him. That much was plain on her face. Then her eyes dropped to his crotch.

“I may be injured, but I ain’t dead,” he explained with a grin.

She flushed.

The sound of footsteps in the hall had both their heads twisting toward the door. The footsteps moved on past. He looked up at her, brushing the hair back from her face. “It’s dangerous to be doing this.”

“I know.”

He wrapped his hand around her ponytail and pulled her down for one more kiss, unable to resist. Then he released her, letting the silk of her hair slip through his fingers as his hand dropped to the bed.

They heard footsteps again, and this time the doorknob rattled as it was unlocked. She jumped from the bed and pretended to fiddle with the IV bag above his head as one of the Death Heads came through the door.

Blood feigned sleep.

“How is he?” the man bit out.