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Lifting his shirt, I gasped. He’d been stabbed in the abdomen and it was deep. The gash was at least an inch thick. “How in the hell were you stabbed?”
“Unlucky, I suppose,” he mumbled, entirely too nonchalant. I was startled by his response.
How often was he injured? Shot? Stabbed? Beaten? All for his life in a motorcycle club.
“You’re reckless,” I accused. “Don’t you care for your personal safety at all? It’s not a joke, Rael. You could have died if you didn’t come here. You never would have made it to a hospital.”
He didn’t answer, just offered a lopsided grin.
“I’m serious. You need to be more careful.”
He was never going to listen. I didn’t know why I bothered to lecture him, continuing my tirade as I jumped up, searched for all the needed supplies and then returned to his side. I cleaned the wound, sewed him up, and placed a bandage over the wound, taping it down. Rael was in and out of consciousness, sometimes smiling as our eyes would meet, other times whispering so low I couldn’t hear his words. Just once, he gripped my hand and pulled it to his face, resting my palm against his cheek.
My emotions churned within as I cleaned up the mess, mopping up the blood from my front porch and hardwood floors. The couch was ruined so I didn’t bother. Once he was able to move, I’d get him up off the cushions so I could throw it away. Maybe I’d let him buy me a new one after all.
Plopping down across from him, I watched my patient. He was resting deeply now, completely oblivious to his surroundings. I knew it meant a lot for a man like that to trust his safety to me. I didn’t take it lightly. Keeping a close watch, I didn’t leave his side for hours.
His cell phone kept ringing. I tried to ignore it but figured someone important was trying to reach him. The name on the caller I.D. said Pres. I swiped across the screen and answered. Before I could respond, a deep voice began yelling, cursing, and threatening him to return to a place called the Crossroads.
“Rael, what the fuck, bro.”
“Uh, hi,” I intervened once I had the chance. “This is Nylah. Rael can’t talk.”
“Why the fuck not? Who are you?”
“He’s been stabbed,” I explained. “He showed up at my house a few hours ago and I patched him up but he’s out cold. I don’t know when he’ll wake up.”
The man on the other end of the line growled and then shouted out orders, probably to more bikers. “Nylah, you’re the nurse from the hospital, right? Rael rescued your sister?”
“Yes.” The reminder didn’t help my composure. “He did.”
“I’m sorry that happened.” He sounded sincere. “My name’s Grim. I’m the pres of the Royal Bastards MC. I’m on my way. Don’t be alarmed when you hear the bikes, alright?”
“Okay.”
“And Nylah?”
“Yeah?”
“Thanks for taking care of my brother.” He hung up the phone and I placed it back inside Rael’s leather vest. My fingers brushed across the supple material as I stared at the man in front of me. He seemed so relaxed in his sleep, much different than his alert and focused presence when he was awake. This softer side of him made it difficult to think of the kind of life he led. He was so complex. I couldn’t imagine what his world was like.
We were two completely different people from opposite ends of the spectrum. I never disobeyed the law and had never even received a speeding ticket. I worked long days, paid my taxes, never used drugs, and did everything right, at least according to society. Rael was a biker, and a dangerous one. I saw the 1%er patch on his vest. He didn’t obey the law and probably didn’t give a shit. He smoked, cussed, rode a Harley, and carried a gun at all times. He was an outlaw.
Our paths never should have crossed, but they did.
I couldn’t resist stroking a finger down his face, marveling at the strong line of his jaw. He was still wearing that skull, day of the dead makeup. I wanted to see his face without it. He might get pissed, but I didn’t care. I used a warm washcloth and removed it all, struck speechless when his handsome features were revealed. He was devilishly and sinfully attractive. That five o’clock shadow spread across his face and softened expression were far too enticing. I leaned in and pressed a soft kiss against his forehead.
Rael stirred, his mouth opening slightly as he whispered a name. It wasn’t mine.
“Willow.”
Reality sank in as I realized he probably had a girlfriend or something. Weren’t they called ol’ ladies? I watched Sons of Anarchy. I sort of had a clue.
None of that mattered except the fact that he didn’t call out for me. It was all I needed to know. I was keeping my distance from the sexy and cocky biker. Something stirred in my gut and I knew I was not only attracted to him but cared about his wellbeing. This wasn’t good. Once he was recovered, I’d cut all ties. There was no room in my life for a man like him.
“Willow!” he cried out, his voice tormented. Thrashing his head side to side, I had to push him back against the cushions. “Willow,” he repeated. Rael groaned. His hazel eyes met mine as he opened them and blinked. He seemed confused for a moment and then he relaxed back against the couch.
“Who’s Willow?” I should have asked how he was feeling or how much pain he was in. My mind couldn’t move beyond that detail though. I needed to know who she was and what she meant to Rael.
