Total pages in book: 119
Estimated words: 109882 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 549(@200wpm)___ 440(@250wpm)___ 366(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109882 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 549(@200wpm)___ 440(@250wpm)___ 366(@300wpm)
“I’m fine,” she finally said, and I pulled my hand away, curling my fingers into my palm.
I shook my head. “You’re coming to the clubhouse. I’ll have our doctor look at you.” I had her hand in mine as I pulled her toward my SUV. But she resisted.
“No. I’m fine.”
I stopped and looked over my shoulder at her.
She pulled her hand from mine, and instantly I felt this coldness slam into me. I could tell she was strong. She was a fighter. And I knew she wouldn’t budge on this, and forcing my hand would only push her further away.
And that I wouldn’t do.
I wasn’t used to not getting my way. No one dared deny me, not unless they had a death wish.
“Okay,” I said and tipped my chin toward the bar. “I’ll have the doctor come here.” I let resolve cover my face. “But I won’t take no for an answer on this, Poppy.” Her eyes widened, and I could tell she was surprised I knew her name. “Okay?” Although I’d posed it like a question, the truth was, I wasn’t asking. I was telling, but with Poppy, I felt this softening toward her. This weakness.
And that was fucking dangerous.
Finally, she nodded slowly, and I took her hand in mine once more. It was warm and soft. Feminine.
I led her through the back door of the bar, and all the while I was very aware of the scent of her, the feel of her. She smelled so fucking good, like something sweet, spun sugar maybe. The stink of the bar didn’t penetrate her, didn’t surround her.
I passed Richie on the way back, and he knew better than to ask any questions. He knew to look down, not make eye contact, and to mind his own fucking business.
When I was in the storage room, I shut the door and reached for my cell, dialing our resident doctor’s number. He answered on the first ring.
“I need you at Richie’s bar.”
All he said was he’d be right there. No questions. No arguments. No hesitation.
I ended the call and looked at Poppy but didn’t put my cell away. She moved back several feet, her gaze on me, her wound looking even worse under the harsh light of the fluorescent bulb above. I felt my anger grow tenfold. I wanted to go back out there and beat the fuck out of that asshole again and again and again.
I dialed up Stix and put the cell to my ear, waiting for the call to connect.
“Yo.” Stix’s voice was clear, like crystal. He didn’t drink. Never. It was why I called him when there was an issue, because there would be no mistakes, no alcohol clouding judgment and inhibitions.
“I have a cleanup at Richie’s.”
“Alive?” Stix asked.
“Still breathing. Unfortunately.” I kept my gaze locked on Poppy.
“Bastard got that golden ticket, eh?”
“Yeah, it was his lucky fucking day.”
I listened to Stix let me know when he’d be there and who’d be showing up.
“Fucker is unconscious, so have him wake up in the middle of fucking nowhere. Make sure that bastard can’t find his way back to town.”
“You got it, Prez.”
“And be quick.” I ended the call and shoved the cell into my pocket, standing there for a moment just watching her, trying to read her. I was a pretty good judge of character.
She was afraid, that was clear, and in pain, but she wasn’t showing it outwardly; at least she didn’t think she was. I had to admit—she was hiding it pretty damn well. “Why don’t you have a seat? It looks like you got hit in the head pretty damn hard.” I kept the growl out of my voice. The asshole had clearly pushed her up against that brick wall really fucking hard for her face to be scraped up, bloody, and bruised like that.
I saw her throat work as she swallowed. She looked behind her to the stack of boxes before sitting down. She looked so small and innocent.
Too young.
It was really hard to stop once I started in with a fight. But when I’d heard Poppy’s voice, she’d been like this tether that had everything in me freezing. She’d been this light in the darkness.
Don’t get me wrong; I wasn’t a good man. I never would be. Even having her by my side wouldn’t have me spouting off poetry and drinking coffee while reading the Sunday paper like a good law-abiding citizen.
But she made things… better.
I was fucking losing my mind already with this woman.
My blood was pumping through my veins, aggression still a heady entity inside me. I started pacing, feeling like a caged lion in the small room. I knew the doc would be here soon enough, but as the seconds turned into minutes, I felt like I was going to lose my fucking mind.