“Damn, brother,” Bull says, eyeing Tom’s leg. “I’ll call Doc, but she might be a minute from the looks of the TV.”
Tom growls in pain, closes his eyes, and leans his head back on the armrest. It sucks that he is in so much pain, but I can’t help but be a little excited to see Jessica.
2
Jessica
I enter the Devil’s Dust clubhouse and am met with those defining blue eyes of Bobby’s. Fuck, I was hoping he wouldn’t be here. My eyes travel to his plump lips standing out against the blond scruff growing into stubble on his tanned cheeks. I pause in my step, holding the door as I walk in. His hungry eyes rake me in from head to toe unforgivingly, causing a warmth to blossom between my legs.
He is fucking gorgeous and hard to stay away from, when that’s all I need to do; stay away from him. Every time I see him, his presence is a challenge; he lays on his charm, and seductive ways. I can usually resist, but every so often, I find myself become weak and give in. Only to wake the next day scared and regretful. Bobby is known for his playboyish ways. He is no doubt a heartbreaker. It would be stupid on my part to let anything between us escalate. Not to mention his lifestyle. That danger he drinks in so vigorously along with the laws of the club, claiming women as their property, not letting them go, is exactly what I escaped from years ago. I have to think of my daughter and her safety, and keep away from Bobby and his brothers. It’s the hardest thing I have ever had to do in my life, and I am faced with it every time I see Bobby. I want to be with him, but I have seen the dangers this club circles around. Safe, is not the word I would use to describe it. Yet confusingly, Bobby makes me feel safe. Makes me want him to be mine every time he sweet-talks his way into my pants.
Bobby smirks, putting those dimples to work. Lust filters through my body causing my cheeks to warm, and me to quickly look away. He climbs my wall of defense every time I see him, pushing past every thought of staying away from him. But who am I trying to kid? Bobby’s charm is relentless and I’m weak resisting it.
“Bull, when you said someone had a rash, I thought you were talking about Bobby. I even brought some penicillin for whatever critters he might be carrying,” I tease as I make my way into the club, breaking eye contact from Bobby. I walk to the bar and risk a look in Bobby’s direction. He laughs at my humor as the rest of the boys chuckle at his expense.
I hear a deep, strangled moan and look behind me, noticing Tom on the couch and his leg covered in road rash.
“He was in that wreck that’s all over the news,” Bull informs, standing next to him. I walk over to Tom and kneel down.
“Why didn’t you stay at the scene?” I ask Tom, my tone dour as I inspect his leg.
“You were there. You saw it. I couldn’t handle those screams, the cries of people suffering. I couldn’t do anything to help them. I could barely ride my bike back to the club,” Tom replies gravely, his eyes closed and jaw ticking from the amount of pain he’s in.
I nod. I understand what he means. It was terrible. I came across four deceased, and two died on me when I was trying to stop horrendous amounts of bleeding. I ran out of supplies quickly, having to use what I could find in cars that were overturned, and napkins from fast food bags that had fallen from the back of trucks. The feeling of not being able to do everything you can is hard to bear.
“Okay, well, I need to clean it and it’s going to hurt. I’m going to have to stitch the bigger gash on your calf too, and you could probably use a tetanus shot,” I inform, placing on some latex gloves. Tom lays his head back on the side of the couch and silently nods, preparing himself for the pain to follow.
An hour and a half later, I finally finish on Tom’s leg. He’s passed out from the drugs I gave him, which is for the better, considering the way he was wincing when I was cleaning it. The entire time I worked on Tom, a blaze of desire raced along my skin from Bobby’s eyes burning into my back. Pulling my bloody gloves inside out, I toss them in the trash, and go to wash my hands in the kitchen.
“Why don’t you stay awhile?”
I turn around and see Bobby leaning up against a counter with his legs crossed in front of him. His black shirt fitting snuggly against his torso, outlining the curves of his muscles beautifully. I bite my lip and turn back to my hand washing.
“Can’t. I gotta get to the hospital and check on my patients,” I tell him. It’s not a lie. The amount of people admitted to the emergency room, I know they need me. I grab some paper towels and dry my hands.