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After all, the Desert Rebels had a reputation for being huge, burly bikers who didn’t even have to open their mouths to intimidate people. They walked into a room and civilians moved out of their way in fear. I’d not had a reason to notice this phenomenon much before because, as the doctor on call, my activity in the club had been kept to a minimum. I’d earned my cut just like anyone else, but I’d had my own clinic and had kept busy there. But all that had changed a year-and-a-half ago when I’d sold my practice and left without a backward glance.
Now I was very involved in the club, and while it had been a hard adjustment in the beginning, I fucking loved it now. Going on club runs and working at the various club businesses kept me busy. Then there were the weekend parties and cookouts which I’d rarely attended before. Not all members spent their time strictly at the club.
There was only one thing I missed from my clinic days, and that was Harlow, the very fucking reason I’d given it all up. After working with her for three years, I couldn’t stand to be around her any longer and not have her. The attraction was there between us—hell, yes—but she was a married woman, and therefore off limits. The day that I’d said “fuck it” and had pushed her up against the door in my office and kissed the hell out of her had woken me up to the fact that I had to get out of there, and fast.
It had been the best damned kiss of my life.
Walking away had been the hardest thing I’d ever had to do.
I’d seen her a few times since, but these days I did whatever I had to do to avoid her. Out of sight, out of mind, right? That was a fucking lie. But a lot of whiskey and a club whore helped me forget. The only problem was that every time I fucked a woman, it was Harlow’s beautiful face that I got off on. Fuck. I was a mess, but at least I was trying to work through it. My brothers were trying to help. Occasionally one of the old ladies, Lulu, would invite Harlow to a cookout or other club event, and I got a warning from one of my brothers that would keep me away.
What didn’t Lulu get that Harlow was married and unavailable?
“Hey, Brother.”
I punched the bag one last time and stopped at the sound of Savage’s voice. He was Lulu’s old man and had just recently joined the club. One of the lucky few who hadn’t had to prospect for two years to earn his cut. The club had voted him in as a full-fledged member because of all the work he’d done for us in the past. Not having to prospect first was almost unheard of, but Demon had wanted him badly because of the skills he brought.
I turned to face Savage. “Yeah?” I panted, catching my breath as I took off my gloves.
“Prez needs you at the clubhouse. One of the prospects was playing around with his fucking gun and shot himself in the foot.”
I’d left my phone in my locker, which explained why I hadn’t received the message directly from Prez. I laughed. “Which one?”
He held his hands out for my gloves, telling me without words that he’d take care of them for me. “Who do you think?” he grinned.
I snorted. Had to be the new guy. He was overzealous and a bit of a klutz, which also happened to be his prospect name. I didn’t see him lasting too long, but Snake saw something in him and was sponsoring him.
I wiped my face off with the towel that was draped around my neck. “Hopefully he didn’t shoot any toes off.”
Savage laughed, and for a moment he didn't look anything like the lethal killer I knew him to be.
“How’s Lulu?” I asked as we began to walk toward the back towards the locker room.
“Good. Anxious for this baby to get here. He’s been wreaking havoc on her bladder.”
“Babies tend to do that.” They were expecting the birth of their second baby—a boy—any day now. Their first was a little girl they’d named Lilly. I opened my locker and dug out my phone to text Demon.
“You gonna come to the cookout this weekend?”
I nodded while looking down at my phone and texting Demon to let him know that I was on my way. After I hit send, I returned my gaze to Savage and frowned with suspicion. “Why? Has Lulu invited someone that she shouldn’t have?” I didn’t even like saying Harlow’s name out loud.
He shrugged. “If she has, she hasn’t said. Not even sure we’re going to make it, Brother.”
I nodded with understanding. “Okay then, let me get a quick shower and get out of here.”
As I showered off the sweat and grime, I thought about the cookout that was planned for Saturday. The Fourth of July fell on Tuesday, but we were celebrating it on the weekend. The whole club would be there, including LD’s chapter from Vegas. That meant the members’ families would be there, too. Club whores were invited, but were told to keep their clothes on and not make any moves on the brothers with old ladies. The MC was growing in numbers, so they would have plenty of brothers to mess around with without getting into trouble.
Thirty minutes later I pulled through the clubhouse gates, parked my bike, and strode inside to the bar where I assumed Klutz would be. A quick look around the room didn’t produce him. I made eye contact with Demon when he glanced up from the bar. “He in the infirmary?”
“Yep.” He shook his head with disgust. “Thinkin’ of changing his name to dumbass.” He dropped off his stool and began to follow me. "Don't think he's going to last."
I grunted but didn't say anything in response. Demon could have said that about any one of us when we'd first started out in the club. His instincts were correct about Klutz, but our prez was also a fair man and I knew he'd give the prospect a chance before he booted him out.
I hit the infirmary door to see the man in question—well, he was a boy, really—lying on the table with his arm folded over his eyes. Snake was standing next to him with a look of disgust on his face.
"You alive, dipshit?" My gaze went to his feet, where one was booted and the other one was bare. Someone had wrapped a bloody towel around it. "How the fuck did you shoot yourself?"
Snake's sound of disgust drew my attention. "Asshole was playing like Barney Fife."
