TWENTY-TWO
One month later…
A week to the day, the doctors released Garrick from the hospital. He was making a remarkable and speedy recovery, probably solely due to his stubborn nature. As Ginger heated up a can of chicken noodle soup, she smiled, remembering how he’d fought with the hospital staff every step of the way.
If they hadn’t had to adhere to policy, she’d suspect they’d released him only because they couldn’t stand to deal with him anymore.
Men were notoriously bad patients, but Garrick topped them all. At every turn, he resisted help of any kind. Sponge bath? No, he wanted a shower, and no one had better even think of helping him stay on his feet.
Hospital food selected for his specific condition that would be easy on his stomach and work well with the pain meds they had him on? No, he wanted food of his own choosing brought to him. So what if he vomited half of it back up; he knew what was best for him. It was his body, after all.
Take his pain meds at specific intervals to ensure he stayed ahead of the curve, and the pain didn’t become unmanageable? No, he didn’t need anything for pain. He was wrong, of course. It took her patient, persistent coaxing to get him to relent, even though she saw in his eyes that he was in pain and was just trying to be a man’s man about it.
He even insisted on walking out on his own two feet instead of using the wheelchair the hospital insisted on him using. He’d lost that fight too. It didn’t take long for Ginger to figure out that all she had to do was give him just the right look and touch and she could get him to do just about anything.
The only thing she hadn’t been able to get him to budge on was going home. She wanted him to go to the clubhouse where there would be plenty of protection at all hours of the day and night. He wanted to go back to his house where he’d be most comfortable and wouldn’t have “a bunch of nosey bastards looking over his shoulder and treating him like an infant.”
The man was impossible.
Especially when he tacked on that he expected her to be right by his side, which meant a couple of prospects were sent to her apartment to pack her a bag.
She could have argued with him, resisted to the point of giving them both a headache, but the truth was, she was tired of fighting what she realized was a losing battle.
His getting shot had opened her eyes, making her realize that, even though they still had a few things to work out, the only place Ginger wanted to be was with him. For her own peace of mind, she had to know that he was okay, and if she was being honest, she got satisfaction from taking care of him.
The fact that he let her without being a total whiner about it was nice too.
It seemed she was the only one he allowed to see his vulnerable side. Which was a sort of privilege in its own right. Garrick didn’t often show weakness, determined to stay strong no matter the circumstance. But with her, he allowed a bit of softness to shine through.
It was quite endearing.
At the hospital, she’d gotten to know him even more intimately than sex alone could ever allow. She knew now how to spot when he found something amusing, when something was on his mind, when he was in pain, and when he was upset.
All things that he hid well before, but for her, were plain to see now. He was a good poker player, but she’d learned his tells.
And she planned to use her newfound skill of observation to the fullest.
Pouring the soup into a bowl, she grabbed a sleeve of saltine crackers and a bottle of water to wash it all down and carried the lot into the bedroom where the brothers had deposited him when they’d brought him home a month ago and she’d been struggling to keep him ever since.
“Uh-uh,” she scolded when she caught sight of Garrick, fists planted into the mattress, biceps flexed and straining as he tried to climb out of bed. “You lay your ass back down.”
“Christ, Red, I’m not an infant. I gotta take a piss,” he grumbled.
“Then let me set this down so I can help you up.”
“I don’t need any fucking help.” He winced, and Ginger clucked her tongue at him. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to snap at you. It’s just that I’m fine.”
“You were shot,” she reminded him.
“Weeks ago. Everything is healed now. I’m practically good as new.”
Placing the food on the side table, she stopped him with a hand on his shoulder and leveled him with a look that landed him back on his ass with a huff. “Before you go dancing, I want to remind you that you almost died. I’m not taking any unnecessary risks.”
“What are you, my mother?”
“No, but I’ll act like it if you make me. Now, did you take your pills?”
“I don’t need them. Now, do I have permission to use my own bathroom, or are you going to bust out a bedpan?”
Propping her hands on her hips, Ginger cocked a brow and stared him down until Garrick finally lifted those crystal blue peepers her way and leveled her with a matching look of impatience.
“You’re a stubborn fool,” she accused. It was clear in the set of his jaw and the determination in his eyes that he wasn’t going to relent, so there was only one thing left to do.
Grabbing his arm, Ginger turned and bent down, tucking herself beneath it. “Come on then. Let’s get this over with.”
“What the hell are you doing?” Garrick asked even as he allowed her to help him to his feet and started walking.
“What does it look like I’m doing,” she grumbled.
Reaching the bathroom, she guided him through the doorway and waited until she was certain he was going to remain standing before stepping away.
“Are you fine on your own for a minute, or do you need me to hold it for you too?” she asked with a heavy dose of sarcasm.
Those eyes of his…they found hers and the light behind them brought a smile to her face. “Only if you’re offering, babe.”
Rolling her eyes, Ginger turned away. “I’m not.”
He got serious fast. “Honestly, I’m fine. You need to stop worrying so much before you give yourself an ulcer.”
She huffed, knowing he was right. He’d been more than fine for a couple weeks, but she just couldn’t help worrying. It was part of her charm.
While he did his business, she busied herself in the bedroom straightening the blankets and fluffing the pillows, making sure things were fresh for his return, as per routine. She set out two of his pain pills next to the bowl of soup too, a not-so-subtle hint that he needed to take them.
But he probably wouldn’t, stubborn man.
“Hey, Red,” Tanner, Moose’s nephew who was prospecting for the club, said, popping his head into the room. “We have to take off. Is there anything else you need before we go?”
They’d had the help of the club the last few weeks, bringing by supplies, so she didn’t have to worry about shopping. The only time Ginger left Garrick alone was when she had to pull a shift at the clubhouse, and then there was always a prospect who stayed behind to keep him company as much as to watch over the property, making sure no uninvited guests decided to stop in and finish what they’d started. Security was constantly on her mind.
Ginger thought about the offer for a moment before shaking her head. “No, I think we’re covered. Just lock the door on your way out?”
He gave her a friendly smile. “You got it. If you need anything, just call. Fish and I can be back in a jiff.”
She returned the smile. He was a good kid, following in his uncle’s footsteps. He’d make a good Spartan someday. “Thanks, hon. I’ll keep that in mind.”
With that, he left, and Ginger turned around, prepared to retrieve Garrick before she ended up having to pick him up off the floor, but there was no need.
Standing in the bathroom doorway, Garrick was watching her with an intensity that she’d seen too often from various members of the brotherhood. Shaking her head in disbelief, she smirked as she went to his side and tucked herself under his arm. It didn’t escape her notice that he didn’t place any of his weight on her again. “You can get that idea right out of your head,” she scolded as they made the long trek back to the bed.
“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I’m sure you do,” she said with a light laugh. “You need rest.”
“I’ve had plenty of rest,” he argued. “Besides, I’ll heal faster my way,” he said as he eased down onto the side of the bed, pulling her down onto his lap.
Ginger didn’t bother to fight him. She knew he was doing well just by looking at him, but that didn’t stop her from scooping up his pills and holding them out to him. He took them without argument and tossed them back. She gave him the bottle of water next, waiting until he swallowed some before opening the crackers and handing him one.
Then she leaned in and granted him the kiss he was searching for. Which quickly turned heated as his hand slid inside her shirt to cup her breast, his thumb skating back and forth across her nipple.
She moaned into his mouth, giving into his touch and the pleasure he delivered. “We shouldn’t do this,” she said, dropping her head back as his mouth traced a path down to her neck, and his hand dipped between her legs to rub her clit through her thin cotton jeggings.
He tossed the cracker back on the table. “Yes, we should. We so should.”
He demonstrated by pulling at her waistband and dipping his hand inside. His fingers found her pussy quickly and pushed between her already saturated folds, spreading her juices around before delving inside her hot, wet core.
Ginger’s fingers dug into his shoulders, and she moaned into his mouth as he once again began kissing her in earnest. He pumped his fingers into her until her body tightened down against them, coming hard.
Then, without wasting a second, Garrick lifted her up and turned them around, depositing her on the bed. His voice husky with desire, he told her, “Get naked, babe,” while he, too, stripped down to his birthday suit.
Ginger tore at her clothing, her eyes glued to his tall, hard frame lined with slabs of muscle and the finest dusting of hair. The remnants of his injuries were apparent, angry fuchsia scars that made her heart weep in remembrance of how close she’d come to losing him, but she forced herself to look past them to the virile man before her. He was a total silver fox, the sexiest man alive, hands down.
Spreading her legs, she gave him an unimpeded view of her swollen pussy. His eyes were on fire, roaming over every inch of her as if he wasn’t sure where to start.
Grabbing hold of his cock, he worked the shaft up and down until a bead of pre-cum oozed out, beckoning her to lick it clean, but he had other ideas.
Kneeling on the bed between her thighs, he brought the thick head to her entrance.
“Are you sure?” she asked him, afraid he might push himself too far too fast.
“Shouldn’t I be the one asking that question?” He gave her a lopsided smirk that sent her blood on fire. As he began to push his way inside her, slowly filling her, he looked into her eyes and said, “The only thing you need to be worrying about right now, babe, is where you want me to cum.”
“What do you mean?” she asked, arching beneath him as he slid in deeper, stretching her.
“Do you want me to paint these gorgeous tits,” he asked, leaning down to suck a nipple into his mouth. “Or inside your tight little cunt?”
Hearing his dirty words in her ear, Ginger’s whole body shivered, and her legs constricted around his hips, pulling him in deeper.
Reaching down, Garrick hooked her legs one by one, bringing her knees up to her chest. Meeting her gaze, he gave her the sexiest smile. “I’m going to make a mess out of you.”
And he did. By the time Garrick was through with her, Ginger was dirty inside and out.
***
Ginger was a good woman. He’d always known that, but getting shot only made it even more apparent. He couldn’t have handpicked a better choice for an ol’ lady. And better still, she seemed to be warming to the idea…or at least to him.
She hadn’t fussed at all when he’d told her she was coming to stay with him, which had shocked the shit out of him. But he was smart enough to know when not to ask questions. And he had several.
Something had changed with her. He just didn’t know what. Maybe it was his near-death experience that had her rattled. Hell, he was rattled, too. But he wasn’t about to rock the boat or look a gift horse in the mouth or whatever the hell appropriate saying applied to the moment. Garrick was going to run with it.
Ginger had finally let him have her tonight, something she’d promised not to do, so he was taking it as a win. And man, it had been fan-fucking-tastic to be inside her again. Her body was rockin’, made for his hands, mouth, and cock. He’d fucked her several times over the last few hours, leaving his mark inside and out, filling her with his cock and then his cum repeatedly until they were both too tired to continue.
Then she’d rolled over, turned on the TV, and set the channel to some Walker, Texas Ranger re-runs.
Carefully, he picked the remote from Ginger’s hand, turned off the television, and set it aside. She’d fallen asleep watching his favorite show. He’d been surprised she’d even turned it on, considering the endless complaints she always had at the ready before. But she’d been willing to do it for him, knowing he liked it. And she might have fallen asleep because it bored her to tears, but her effort and willingness to please him was what stuck out. It touched him to know that she cared about him like that.
Maybe they were finally getting somewhere.
The dull pain radiating from his gunshot wounds were a throbbing heartbeat in his soft tissue, making Garrick wince. He’d overworked himself. Getting shot was always a bitch. He hadn’t felt anything of its caliber in over a decade, thanks to Blake and his determination to dig the club out of its seedy past. Funny how it always seemed to catch up though. But Ginger had done a good job taking care of him, and he was almost fully healed. A few more weeks and he’d be right as rain again.
Sitting in the dark, propped up against the pillows, Garrick replayed that night, trying to scrape together any details he might have missed, no matter how small.
His thoughts were still foggy though. He remembered fighting with Ginger, then riding out, pissed as hell, and determined to forget. Sitting at that stoplight, the black sedan rolling up on him…then the gunshots.
Whoever had been riding in that car had been careful to keep themselves hidden. When that window rolled down, all he saw was the muzzle of the gun before the flash of fire that followed the sound of the bullet exploding from the barrel.
He’d had no chance. Thank fuck he always wore his vest. He didn’t need the doctor telling him how lucky he was to still be breathing. They’d emptied a whole clip into him, half boring straight into the chest, leaving deep bruises.
Garrick reached up and covered his left shoulder where one of the bullets had torn through him. It hurt like a bitch, but the surgeons had done a good job repairing the damage. He wouldn’t lose much range of motion, and he’d still be able to ride.
Yeah, everything could have been much, much worse.
Rubbing absently, he looked down at the sleeping beauty beside him and marveled at how such a seemingly hopeless situation had come together. And all it took was him getting shot. Ha, go figure. I should have gotten shot sooner, he mused, brushing a strand of hair back from her forehead.
Ginger was truly beautiful. She had the fine, delicate features of a woman and the heart and attitude of a lioness. Every time he looked at her, he felt a twinge in his chest. It was a feeling he’d been ignoring for years, ever since the first night they’d spent together.
He just couldn’t shake her, so he was done trying.
And now he just might have her.
She wasn’t kicking and screaming, at any rate. And he hadn’t had to kidnap her or tie her to his bed to get her to sleep with him, so things were looking up. Garrick knew one thing for certain: they’d come too far to turn back now. If she woke up with other ideas in mind, he’d just have to work harder to convince her otherwise, make her see things his way.
Sliding down under the blankets, he lifted his arm, ignoring the nagging residual pain in his shoulder and side as Ginger snuggled up against him, resting her head on his chest and curling her arm and leg over his body.
A perfect fit.