Well, Dawn wasn’t a biker. Not anymore. And the two days of lessons at the shooting range with Arianne hadn’t changed her mind. Still, it was a comfort to know that she’d be able to defend herself from the crazy person trying to break down her door at three in the morning. Or at least threaten him. She never loaded the gun because she simply wasn’t prepared to kill anyone.
Weapon in hand, she raced through the living room and stood on tiptoe to peer through the peephole. At first she didn’t recognize the man standing in front of her door, his face swollen and bloody, his shirt in tatters, but it was his hair, golden strands matted with blood, glinting in the semidarkness, that made her look again.
Her breath caught in her throat and she undid the dead bolt, then threw the door open. “Oh God. Cade. What happened?”
“Jesus, Dawn. Put the gun away.” He brushed past her and stalked into her tiny hallway, his clothes rank with blood and covered in dirt. “What the fuck were you doing with a piece of shit like him?”
Stunned, Dawn could only stare. “You almost break down my door at three in the morning, looking like you need to get to a hospital, to ask me that?”
“Yeah.”
“If we knew each other better,” she said, her voice tight. “If we were friends, or actually seeing each other, maybe I wouldn’t be so annoyed at being pulled out of bed and ordered to explain my life choices. But we’re not. We’ve slept together twice. We’ve never had a conversation that lasted more than two minutes, one minute of which consisted of deciding how we were going to have sex next. So you don’t have the right to ask me that question, and unless you’re in dire need of medical attention, I suggest you leave.”
By way of answer, Cade took a step forward into the living room, staggered to the side, and grabbed the back of her sofa for support. “Damn. Gimme a minute.”
With a sigh, Dawn closed and locked the door, then put the gun into her purse. “I see you’ve chosen door number three, ‘dire need of medical assistance.’ You want me to call the Sinner doctor or take you to the local hospital?”
“No hospital.”
“Right. I forgot. Too manly for the hospital. You got a number for the club doctor?”
Cade shook his head. “No doctor. Just … water … bandages … maybe some whiskey. I’ll be fine.”
Hmmm. Fine is obviously a relative word. To her non-medical eye, he certainly didn’t look fine. In fact, he looked like he was about to collapse, and from the way he was holding himself, he was clearly injured far beyond the cuts and bruises she could see on his face. But that was always the way with biker beatings. Why go for the small target when you could go for the big one?
“Kitchen. Now.” Dawn gestured to the small kitchen area, visible through the open breakfast bar behind the couch. Living on her own, Dawn had more than enough space in her cheap, two-bedroom bungalow rental, although the pastel decor and white rattan furniture were not really to her taste. But she wasn’t meant to be living on her own. The second bedroom held twin beds and the toys Maia and Tia had left behind the day they’d been ripped from her arms by an overzealous court sheriff after the devastating court case in which she was declared an unfit mother.
Cade followed her to the kitchen, decorated in country-chic pink and mint green, and pulled out a white wicker chair from the breakfast nook. As he lowered himself to sit, Dawn grabbed a tea towel and threw it over the seat.
“Lotta blood on you. Not sure how much is fresh, and the furniture isn’t mine to stain.”
“None of it since I was fighting a buncha deadbeats.” Cade grimaced. “Six of them to one of me. I used the advantage of surprise to take Mad Dog down, and then went after the better fighters. When they were all moaning on the ground, I grabbed a weapon and took off in their van.”
“I hope you parked the stolen vehicle nearby.”
“Right out front.”
“Excellent.” Sarcasm laced her tone. “Now the Brethren and the police will know where to find you.”
Dawn pulled out her first-aid kit and washed her hands in the sink. Even though he was battered and bruised, his eyes full of questions she would never answer, Cade’s presence soothed the nervous flutter that was always in her stomach. There was just something about him, beyond his obvious physical strength … Maybe it was the way he filled a room with his sheer, palpable presence. Or maybe it was the way he looked at her: Like there was no one else in the room. Like she was his and woe betide any man who dared hurt her.
Or maybe it was all in her imagination.
She eyed his bloody clothing and grabbed a garbage bag from the cupboard. “You’d better strip. I’ll throw your clothes in the wash. Looks like you get to spend the night in your undies on my couch.”
A smile tugged the corner of Cade’s battered mouth as he undid his belt. “Will I be alone?”
“Condition you’re in, you’ll most definitely be alone.” She eased herself between his parted legs to help him take off his T-shirt, freezing when he winced at her touch. “Well, that just settles it.” She carefully pulled the shirt up his body. “I’m not about to take advantage of an injured man.”