Reaper's Fall

“All in a day’s work,” I said ruefully, shaking my head. Big mistake. Rolling over, I puked all over the floor.

Wasn’t that just great—he gave me a concussion.

Pisser. The next couple days were gonna suck.

PAINTER

I leaned over the pool table, lining up my shot. The game had started as an excuse to wrap myself around the cute little redhead who’d been flirting with me across the bar for the last half hour, but she’d turned out to be a surprisingly good player. Suddenly I’d found myself with a real challenge. Turned me on, had to admit.

About fuckin’ time, too. Most of the women I met these days were boring. I liked getting my dick sucked, no question, but I still tended to close my eyes and picture Melanie in their place. My cock never seemed to get the message that she wasn’t interested in us anymore, no matter how many times my brain explained this reality.

Fuckin’ ridiculous. All of it.

Pulling back the cue, I took my shot. The ball hit with a satisfying crack, sending the green solid toward the back corner pocket. Red pouted prettily, then sashayed over to give me a kiss. I’d just covered her mouth with mine, reaching around to grab her ass, when the phone in my back pocket buzzed.

I considered ignoring it.

Christ, but I wanted to ignore it. Unfortunately, one of the downsides of club life is always answering the damned phone, because a brother might be in trouble. Giving Red’s generous ass one last squeeze, I pulled away to grab my phone.

Melanie.

She never called, not unless it was about Izzy, and I couldn’t think of a single reason she’d be in touch at midnight on a Friday if it wasn’t an emergency.

The pretty redhead ceased to exist.

Catching Puck’s eye, I mouthed Melanie as I made for the bar’s open patio, away from the music.

“Hey, what’s up?” I asked, feeling anxious.

“Painter? Are you there?”

“Just a sec,” I told her. “I’m heading outside where it’s quiet.”

“Okay.”

It took a minute, but I finally found a patch of privacy toward the back. “Hey, what’s going on? Is Izzy okay?”

“She’s fine,” Melanie said, her voice sounding strange. Harsh, like she’d been coughing. “Look, I need your help.”

Well. That was different.

“All right . . .”

“Here’s the situation—my shift was supposed to end at eight, but there was an accident at the hospital. Izzy’s with a sitter and they’re keeping me here overnight. London’s out of town and—”

“No, it’s fine,” I said, my mind switching modes instantly. I’d heard some guys bitching that their exes were always dumping the kids on them, but Mel wasn’t like that. If she’d called, it was because she’d run out of options. “I can get her. What’s the situation?”

She didn’t answer for a minute, and I went from concerned to suspicious.

“Melanie? What’s going on?”

“A patient attacked me,” she admitted slowly.

“The fuck?” I asked, chilled. “Why?”

“He’s mentally ill,” she said quickly. “Probably doesn’t even remember doing it. Look, it’s no big deal but they want to keep me for the night to make sure the head injury isn’t serious. I told them it’s not, but you know how it is. Liability.”

“I’m coming to the hospital,” I said. “I want to see for myself.”

“No, it’s nothing,” she said. I might’ve believed her if she hadn’t sounded like she’d swallowed a truckload of gravel. “I’m fine, but Izzy’s sitter has work in the morning and she really needs to get home, to bed. She’s at my place. I’ll call her and let her know that you’re on your way. Izzy’s sound asleep—she won’t even realize anything happened.”

I considered arguing with her, then decided it was a waste of time.

“All right, I’ll head there now.”

“Thanks, Painter,” she replied, sounding tired. “It’s been a rough night. Knowing Isabella’s covered is a big relief.”

• • •

“Thanks for watching Iz,” I told Marie, Horse’s old lady, early the next morning. “She’ll probably wake up around seven, and if she’s upset that Mel isn’t here, you can have her call and I’ll talk to her.”

Marie nodded, smiling at me reassuringly. No complaints from her, despite the fact that we’d dragged her out of bed at five a.m. Horse was a lucky man. “No worries—we’ll have a great time together. Just go make sure Melanie’s okay and I’ll keep you covered on this end.”

“Thanks.”

Grabbing my cut, I made for the door, knowing it was too early to go see Mel and not caring—I couldn’t hold out any longer, I needed to see her for myself. Puck followed. He’d ditched the girls last night to come with me, because that’s the kind of friend he was. Horse had offered to come, too, but I figured two bikers were enough to keep people at the hospital from fucking with us, but not so many we’d have to worry about them calling security on our asses.

We pulled up to Kootenai Medical Center and parked, stopping by Information to find Mel’s room. The little old lady manning the desk probably wasn’t supposed to hand that out, but a few sweet words and she fell right into line. Sometimes it scared me how easy women were to manipulate.