Total pages in book: 45
Estimated words: 41825 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 209(@200wpm)___ 167(@250wpm)___ 139(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 41825 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 209(@200wpm)___ 167(@250wpm)___ 139(@300wpm)
“Yeah?” I muttered, answering the call, not bothering to hide my irritation at the interruption.
Edge’s voice came through. “Need you at the clubhouse. One of the prospects fucked up his leg in a crash on a training run.”
“Shit,” I grunted, rubbing a palm over the back of my neck. “On my way.”
Ending the call, I turned back to Hadley, noticing how her eyes tracked my every move. Her gaze questioned me without words, curious and concerned. I went around the island and moved in close, cupping her chin firmly, and tilting her face up to mine. “Club business. I’ve gotta go.”
Her brow furrowed slightly, but she didn’t probe for more information. Which I was grateful for since I didn’t have the time right then to get into the secretive parts of the MC. She just nodded, biting her lower lip in a way that made me want to kiss it. So, fuck it, I did.
My mouth crashed onto hers, hard. The instant she melted into me, all reason dissolved. My tongue slipped past her lips, tasting her and savoring the soft moan she released as her hands came up to clutch at my shoulders. My cock was a steel rod pressing against her thigh, demanding release. It took every bit of self-control I had left not to haul her onto the counter, strip her naked, and fuck her until she was screaming my name. But I had shit to do, and she wasn’t ready for what came with giving herself to me completely.
Reluctantly, I pulled away, leaving her panting, her eyes glazed with lust. I traced my thumb along her swollen lips, fighting the urge to dive back in.
“One of my brothers brought your car here last night, but I want you to stay put,” I ordered roughly, my voice thick with desire. “Eat your breakfast, rest. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
She nodded, her eyes wide and trusting, making my chest tighten as warmth spread through me. I gave her another quick kiss before releasing her and jogging back to my bedroom. I grabbed a clean shirt and slipped it over my head, slipped on my cut, then pulled on socks and boots. With one last, “Be good, baby,” I stalked into the garage and climbed onto my hog.
I drove fast to the clubhouse, my tires eating up the short distance between my home and the compound. Like always, the rumble of my bike’s engine, the wind slapping against my body, and the world around me fading into a blur cleared my thoughts. It was one of the only places where I felt truly settled and at ease.
By the time I parked and strode into the clinic, my mind was already locked on the task ahead. I strode purposely to the back door attached to the side of the clubhouse, next to the garage.
Kane had added the medical suite before he’d even talked me into prospecting with the Redline Kings—the cocky bastard somehow knew he’d convince me.
I pulled open the exterior door and walked into the reception area complete with padded chairs and a desk. It looked similar to any hospital waiting room, which might have seemed odd to outsiders considering we used this clinic strictly for private treatment. We wanted our shit kept outside the hospital system to avoid red tape, as well as government oversight since they were obligated to report certain types of injuries—like gunshot wounds.
But there were instances when family or extremely close friends were allowed to wait at the clinic if someone had a very serious injury. Especially if I needed to be in the fully equipped operating room with them for hours.
Then there were the times when the room was filled with brothers and old ladies as they waited for another MC prince or princess to be born. Not all the old ladies chose to have their babies here, but it happened often enough these days.
I stopped into my office, which sat directly across from the door that led straight into the clubhouse, and dropped my keys and wallet into a drawer of my desk. Then I shrugged off my cut and replaced it with a white lab coat before heading to one of the two exam rooms.
Von, a twenty-something kid who was on track to be a champion racer for one of Kane’s teams, was laid out on the exam table, bloodied up from the crash. I washed up, then got straight to work, cleaning the wound and stitching him, my hands quick and steady, and my mind fully in doctor mode. Medicine was one of the places where everything made sense, and I stood on solid ground. I was meticulous in managing every detail, controlling every aspect, and ensuring nothing went sideways.
This wasn’t born from insecurity—it was forged from experience. Early in my career, I'd lost a patient when a situation unraveled around me despite every skill and effort I poured into saving them. It wasn't my fault, but that didn't matter to me. After that, I stopped accepting that there were variables I couldn’t handle. If I couldn’t fix something directly, I expanded my reach until the outcome was no longer uncertain. It wasn’t like I believed I’d be able to save everyone, but when it happened, it wouldn't be because of ambiguity and chaos.