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The behemoth chuckled, at least she thought it was a chuckle. He made this odd, grunting noise and his mouth curled up, so it was either that or he just shat himself. He took hold of her upper arm and pulled her up to dangle off his shoulder.
“Ug!” she cried, upside down. “You’ll make me sick. Don’t be pissed when I puke down your back!”
Mammoth Man either didn’t care or he didn’t believe her. Her last glimpse of home was a picture of her, Brady, and Zaylah, hanging on the wall.
Chapter One
Lincoln leaned against the wall as he waited for his brother to come off the elevator. Men and women eyed him as they walked by, quickly shifting their gaze when he looked pointedly at them. He was used to the stares since he was a six-foot-three, heavily muscled biker with tattoos. People had this preconceived notion that bikers were an uneducated bunch of hoodlums, thanks to Hollywood. That all they did were drugs, drinking, and fucking. And yeah, there was a lot of that in the clubhouse, but every person staring at him probably would be surprised he had a college degree. Not only that, he also had his CPA license. Numbers had always been his specialty.
Someone bumped his arm and he spun around, seeing an older, regal African-American woman. A turban covered her hair and big hoop earrings dangled from her ears.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
“It’s all right.”
She patted his arm. “It will be.”
Then she bustled away just as the elevators dinged. He glanced at them before looking back, but the woman was gone. The next instant, the doors opened and his brother, Parker, stepped out. He no longer wore his scrubs, instead having changed into jeans, a t-shirt, and sneakers. With his dark blond hair matted down, he didn’t look like a surgeon. Then again, he looked exactly like Lincoln. Identical twins on the outside, yet completely different on the inside.
“Parker,” he said. His brother looked up from his phone, his expression immediately segued into wariness.
“What’re you doing here, Linc?”
“I came to say thank you. My VP is all right now. You saved his life.”
Parker looked around and grabbed Lincoln’s arm to lead him out of the hospital. “It would be best if we kept this all under wraps.”
“Still ashamed of me?”
Parker shook his head as if tired of the question. “I’m not ashamed of you, Linc. I am, however, disappointed at some of your life choices. You’re a smart man. You could live above the law.”
Lincoln gently extracted his arm from his brother’s grip. “Still judgmental, I see. I like my life, Parker.”
“Do you really? Look at you.” He grabbed Lincoln’s hand to study the new tattoos. “Is this who you want to be?”
Lincoln pulled his hand away. “Brain injury, remember?”
Parker shook his head. “Don’t bullshit a doctor. A traumatic brain injury is quite different from what you’re exhibiting. This is more like you playing grown-up with a bunch of … hooligans.”
“Hooligans?” Lincoln chuckled. “Really?”
His brother sighed. “I just want what’s best for you.”
“The Death Ridersarewhat’s best for me.”
“But—”
“Stop,” Lincoln said, holding his hand up. “Let’s not fight again. I just came here to say thank you.”
His VP, Thorn, had discovered a room painted red with blood. Thinking it was the blood of the woman he loved, he had grabbed his gun like he was going to use it on himself. Lincoln had knocked him unconscious, and Parker had come to administer a tranquilizer.
“So, he’s no longer suicidal?”
“No. His woman is safe.”
“Good.”
“You saved his life, you know,” Lincoln said again. “You gave us enough time to figure everything out.”
