Devil's Angels Boxed Set: Bikers and Alpha Bad Boy Erotic Romance (6 page)

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Authors: Joanna Wilson,Celina Reyer,Evelyn Glass,Emily Stone

 

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

 

Her phone beeped while she was talking to another walk-in client. Mostly they were just shooting the breeze, as he was another looksee. She left him checking out flash and considering his options while she excused herself to check her messages.

 

The text came up and her stomach flipped sickly. “Tom, I’m very sorry to cut this short, but there’s been an emergency and I have to leave. If you come back another time I will give you a discount on whatever you pick, okay?”

 

She didn’t really hear Tom’s reply. Her heart was pounding as she grabbed her bag and her helmet. She could barely get the door locked, her hands were shaking so badly.

 

No, she wasn’t sure where he lived but she knew it was off of the county road that lead to the pond. She’d take that road and keep her eyes peeled for anything familiar. Driving like a maniac attracted the attention of a local cop and she didn’t bother pulling over, just waved for him to follow. If he arrested her, so be it.

 

The road curved to the left and right so she slowed slightly, finally remembering that they’d followed the curve left. A hundred feet from the curve there were skid marks on the road. She pulled off on the shoulder and immediately saw Christian lying still on the ground. She pulled off the helmet and ran, screaming for the cop to help her. Sliding in the loose, dry soil she got to him in seconds, dropping to her knees beside him.

 

“Christian?” She reached out and touched his pale face. Behind her the cop was on his radio calling for an ambulance. Christian’s eyes opened, but couldn’t focus on her. “Hey there, hot stuff.”

 

“I knew you’d find me, pretty girl.” He managed a small smile.

 

“Miss, you’re going to have to step back and let me check him out.” The cop was young and looked a little nervous.

 

Sandy stepped back and tried not to let fear eat her alive. He was so pale, and there was blood all over the back of his head. The bike was in pieces several feet away, the back wheel completely demolished. The young cop had pulled on gloves and was gently inspecting Christian’s head
wound, checking his pulse and asking him what had happened all at the same time. His replies were so quiet that she couldn’t make out what he said.

 

The ambulance came around the curve and pulled off the road near her bike. She waved her arms, knowing they’d already seen them but needing to feel like she was doing something, anything.

 

It was a blur after that. They worked on him for a few minutes before putting a collar on him and lifting him onto the gurney. He looked so helpless strapped down, head immobilized. One of the EMT’s motioned her over and she ran to his side. “We’re going to St. Mark’s. We can’t let you in the ambulance, but you’re welcome to follow.”

 

Sandy nodded and squeezed Christian’s hand, leaning over so she could see into his eyes. “I’m right behind you. Just have to straighten up a thing with the police, then I’ll be there. Promise.”

 

He couldn’t nod, but he gave her that cocky smile and squeezed her hand back. They loaded him in the ambulance and she turned away, tears already starting to gather in her eyes. The young policeman was waiting, so she rubbed her eyes clear and walked to him, ready to get the cuffs slapped on. She’d have to call her Daddy to come get her out of jail, but it didn’t matter. Christian was going to be okay. He had to be okay.

 

*****

 

To her surprise, the young officer hadn’t arrested her. Hadn’t even given her a ticket. He’d escorted her to the hospital, told her he hoped Christian was okay, and would send someone by later to take a statement from him so they could investigate the accident. She’d been so overwhelmed and grateful that she’d hugged him, making him blush dark red around his neck.

 

The escort had been unnecessary, because they wouldn’t let her back to see Christian. She wasn’t family. She didn’t even know if he had any family that she should be calling. She knew next to nothing about his life aside from general knowledge and what he’d told her that day in her shop.

 

The plastic chairs in the waiting area were amazingly uncomfortable, and the TV was tuned to some annoying reality show with loud-mouthed women fighting over a disturbingly orange colored man. She thought about stepping out to call Mariah, but what if Christian needed her?

 

Unable to just sit there, Sandy got up and paced the small room. He’d been here almost two hours now, and there’d been no news. At least, nothing they’d tell her. All she ever got was they were taking care of him and that he was in stable condition. Good thing she wasn’t more like her Daddy, or that nice officer would be back to put her in handcuffs for sure.

 

“Miss Rivers?” A petite nurse with jet black hair came around the corner and Sandy practically ran to her. “Mr. Belz is asking for you. He’s been given some pretty heavy pain medication, so you won’t be able to stay long.”

 

Sandy nodded, suddenly nervous. She followed the petite nurse down the hall and around the corner. “He’s down in room 311, on the left.”

 

She didn’t know what she’d expected, but Christian with his head shaved and bandaged wasn’t it. He was still so pale, and his eyes had dark rings around them. “Well, aren’t you a sight?”

 

“Downright gorgeous.” He reached out a hand, wanting her closer.

 

She didn’t hesitate, pulling a chair close to his bed and taking his hand. “I hear you’re on some good drugs.”

 

“Feeling no pain right this second.” He waggled his eyebrows at her, smiling. “I have to tell you… you’re my very own Wonder Woman.”

 

“Wow, Wonder Woman. I’m flattered.” She smoothed her hand down his cheek, his eyes already starting to droop. “I hope this isn’t a ploy to get me in some spanky pants and a bustier.”

 

“Damn, you found me out.” His words were a little slurred. “I need to remember to tell you thank you. For finding me.”

 

“I’ll remind you when you’re less drugged.” She smiled as he faded out, his chest rising and falling steadily.

 

 

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

 

They hadn’t let her stay long, but had told her she could come back later in the evening if she’d like. Too upset to really talk, she’d nodded and left quietly. She’d be back as soon as visiting hours were open again at six.

 

The doctor had come in while she was there, and when she’d asked about his injuries, he’d given her a long, considering look. She’d waited for him to ask if she were family but he hadn’t. He explained that there were lots of small injuries, bruises and scrapes, some blood loss and that his knee had been dislocated—those things were easily repaired and wouldn’t take long to heal.

 

It was the concussion the doctor was most worried about. It was a severe concussion but the x-rays showed no skull fracture, which was good news. However, because Christian had already had two concussions, one as a teenager and one a couple of years ago, the possibility of long-term effects were increased. He’d called it Chronic Traumatic Encephalopathy.

 

The helmet had saved his life; there was no doubt about that. If he hadn’t been wearing it, the impact with the ground would have killed him. They would be keeping him two nights for sure, possibly three depending on his symptoms.

 

When he woke up she would try to find out if he had any family she could call. She took the drive home slowly, her mind elsewhere. The club parking lot was full, the charity ride over and everyone ready to party another Saturday night away. She pulled up to her private entrance and let herself into her shop with hands that still shook slightly.

 

Her Daddy was waiting inside, standing in front of the wall of flash. “Hey, Daddy.”

 

Atticus could tell his daughter was upset and, even though he knew why, he had to play this cool. “Sandy girl, what’s wrong?” He moved closer to her and rubbed his hands up and down her arms comfortingly.

 

She didn’t want to tell him what was going on. It hurt her heart to realize that she felt that way. Christian was a sore spot with him and there would be little sympathy from her Daddy for Christian. That would piss her off, and they’d fight. It was inevitable though, because she didn’t like keeping secrets from him. “Christian was in an accident late last night. Car hit him on his way home. He laid on the side of the road all night and most of the morning. He’s in the hospital.”

 

That wasn’t what he’d expected her to say. It was hard not to let his anger show as he stood there. “Well, that’s too bad. I guess he’ll recover?”

 

As she’d expected, her Daddy was stone-faced at her news. No worry or emotion in his eyes at all. A cold chill worked its way up her spine. “Yes, he will. I know you don’t like him, Daddy, but do you know if he has any family? Someone who needs to be called?”

 

Atticus shrugged, turning away from her. “Nobody that I’d know about. It’s not like we talked about our private lives much. You should ask Mariah. She might’ve heard something.”

 

“I’ll do that.” She turned to go, then stopped and turned back to face the first man she’d ever loved. Anger rode her hard. “I get it that you don’t like him, but he’s part of this club, and your second. He deserves more respect than you’re showing right now, and I’m disappointed.”

 

His baby girl was livid. Fire sparked from her eyes, and her fists were tight balls next to her sides. When was the last time she’d been really pissed at him? He couldn’t honestly remember. “I got no respect for someone who hasn’t earned it. He may be the second, but he’s not
my
second.”

 

“I get it, Daddy. He isn’t like you, doesn’t cow-tow to you like all the others do, so that makes him less worthy of your respect. That’s pretty damn shallow. I don’t agree with you right now either, how’s my respect holding up?” She turned and walked away, slamming the door behind her, tears threatening for the second time in one day.

 

 

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

 

“What the hell did you do?” Atticus hissed into the phone he should have gotten rid of but hadn’t. Good thing too, now that this mess had come up. “I told you to scare the little shit, not try and kill him.”

 

The man on the other end cleared his throat once, then again. “I did exactly what you asked.”

 

“You stupid son of a bitch. He’s going to talk to the cops and we’ll both end up in jail!”

 

“Ain’t nobody going to find out anything. The kid didn’t see nothing, and the car is long gone. Maybe you’re just worried that your precious little girl is going to find out what you did.” Nick said the words caustically, not liking where this conversation was going at all.

 

“If any of this gets back to Sandy—” He let his words die off, but the threat was there in his silence.

 

“Don’t worry, Atticus. You’re secret is safe with me. You paid me well for it.”

 

“You’re damn right I did.” Atticus shut the phone off and threw it back in the drawer. Anger was singing in his veins. His plan had gone all wrong. If anything, he’d just pushed his daughter closer to Christian—and away from him.

 

*****

 

Mariah stood outside of the club, tears streaming down her face. They were tears of anger and disgust and hurt. All the years she’d spent with Atticus, thinking he’d changed, that he’d softened, and instead he’d just gotten better at hiding his activities.

 

When Sandy had come to her, so upset and angry with Atticus and worried about Christian, she’d gone up to his office to talk to him. The conversation she’d overheard had turned her blood to ice.

 

Atticus had been behind Christian’s accident.

 

*****

 

Mariah hadn’t known anything much more than Atticus about Christian’s family, so Sandy had gone home to shower and calm down after her fight with her Daddy. Upset, she’d done her crying under the spray of hot water and then let it all go down the drain. No point dwelling on it. Things were going to have to change, and she was the only one who could change them. Until she got out and proved she could make it on her own, these control issues with her Daddy weren’t going to get any better. Right now, she needed to focus on Christian.

 

The smell of antiseptic and other less pleasant odors hit her the minute she walked through the doors. Hospitals didn’t bother her, except for the way they smelled—they reminded her of all the hurt and death that lingered on somehow.

 

Christian was talking to a man in a bad sport coat when she got to his room. She was about to quietly back away when the man spotted her and drew Christian’s attention to the door. “Hi. I didn’t mean to interrupt anything. I can come back—”

 

Christian sat up a little, jaw tight against the pain and dizziness the motion caused. “Get in here, Sandy.” He waited until she was by his bed before gesturing at the man. “This is Detective Mann. He came to ask me about the accident.”

 

Sandy held out her hand for him to shake. She smiled at him, trying to diffuse the sudden tension in the room. “Great name, Detective.”

 

“Thank you. I would assume you to be Sandy Rivers? The one who led the officer to Mr. Belz?” He flipped back a page on his little notebook. “I’d like to ask you a couple of questions too, if you don’t mind?”

 

‘Not at all.” She sat down in the chair next to Christian’s hospital bed and took his hand in hers. Something this man had said was upsetting Christian, and while she couldn’t do anything to change that she could at least offer her support.

 

“Mr. Belz says he dropped you off around three AM at your shop. Did you happen to notice anyone following you on the way home, or see someone pull out behind Mr. Belz when he left?”

 

“No, I didn’t, but honestly, I was so sleepy that I wouldn’t have noticed much of anything.” She watched him make a note in his book, then it hit her. “Wait, why would you ask that? I thought it was an accident?”

 

The Detective and Christian shared a look. “I’m not so sure. There were a few things that didn’t look right to the responding officer, and I agree with his assessment. It looks like someone hit Mr. Belz on purpose.”

 

Sandy felt all the blood drain from her face. She looked at Christian, who was staring stonily at the wall behind the Detective’s head. “Someone tried to kill him? Why?”

 

“That’s what I’m going to find out. Even if Mr. Belz doesn’t like the idea.” Detective Mann closed his little notebook. “I’ll keep in touch.”

 

Sandy waited until the man was out of earshot, then turned and blurted out, “Is it possible, Christian?”

 

Sighing, Christian leaned his head back against the pillows and closed his eyes. His head was a mess of dizziness. “I don’t see how, Sandy. I really don’t. I don’t have any real enemies here.”

 

She let the subject drop because it was obvious he was hurting. “Do you feel any better at all?”

 

“Some. That might be all the pain meds talking, though.” Christian looked at her, which took a moment because he was having trouble focusing. “Hey, you look worried. Don’t be. I’m going to be fine.”

 

“I know, I spoke with your doctor earlier, although I’m sure he wasn’t supposed to do that.” She smiled but it was weak and halfhearted. “It was scary, finding you like that and not being able to do anything.”

 

He pulled the hand he was holding up to his lips and kissed her knuckles. It was unusual for him to do something so—soft. She needed reassurance though, and he wasn’t going to ignore that. “I wish that it hadn’t been necessary, but I was a little scrambled at the time.”

 

Even with him flat on his back, that sweet kiss stirred her. “Do you have some family you want me to call?”

 

“There’s no one left. That’s why I left Alabama to find out what Texas was like.” Christian said the words matter-of-factly, as if it didn’t bother him that he was alone in the world.

 

It might not bother him, but it bothered her that he had no one to depend on. No one to call when he was upset or hurt or angry. She had her Daddy and Mariah. Who did he turn to when things were bad? “I’m sorry. It can’t be easy, being alone.”

 

He could see that there were tears in her eyes. For him. For the fact that he was alone in the world. “Sandy, sometimes it’s better to be alone than to be with people who don’t care if you live or die. My story, it isn’t pretty.”

 

“Tell me.”

 

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