Total pages in book: 139
Estimated words: 133511 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 668(@200wpm)___ 534(@250wpm)___ 445(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 133511 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 668(@200wpm)___ 534(@250wpm)___ 445(@300wpm)
“Mellie, you want him out of the room?” Braids asked. “He’s here with a friend, but I can call Security on them.”
Her gaze was challenging, making it clear she’d stand up for her fellow nurse as needed—apparently Puck’s flirting would carry us only so far. Inconvenient, but also good to see. I liked the idea of Mel’s coworkers taking her back.
“No, it’s good,” Melanie said. “I want to get home as soon as possible. Don’t want Izzy freaking out.”
“I hear that,” said Braids. “Soon as we get you cleared, we’ll get you on the road. Let me take your vitals and then I’ll see if I can find a doctor to clear you.”
I probably should’ve offered to step into the hallway while she did her work, but no way I was letting Melanie out of my sight until I knew the whole story. This situation felt too much like the morning I’d first met her. We’d been at the hospital then, too—London’s house had blown sky-high, and Mel had gotten caught in the explosion.
“Hit your call button if you need me,” said Braids, making a point of handing her the little remote thingy. I took in a deep, calming breath and offered her a sweet smile and she softened, just like the old lady downstairs. Too easy.
“Why are you here?” Melanie asked after Braids left. I think she was trying to sound tough, but it came off more pathetic than anything else.
“To find out what the hell happened,” I told her, studying the bruises. “You look like shit.”
“Fuck you.”
“Anytime, although you’re probably not up to it today. Now tell me the whole story.”
She glared at me for a second, so I just crossed my arms and waited her out.
“One of the regulars in the ER—a homeless guy—attacked me.”
“Why?”
“He’s mentally ill,” she said, shrugging. “Paranoid. Probably decided I was trying to do something to him. Off his meds.”
“So what happens to him?”
“Oh, they sedated him and hauled him off to Psych. They’ll stabilize him and then he’ll probably be out again.”
“Seriously?” I asked, startled. “No charges, nothing?”
“It wouldn’t make any difference,” she said, sighing. “System’s not set up for people like him. He’s sick, not evil. I don’t want them pressing charges.”
“So they’ll just let him out again?”
“Not until he’s stabilized. Who knows, maybe he’ll realize what he did and stay on his meds this time. It’s a fucked-up situation, but I guess anything’s possible.”
I didn’t like this shit. Didn’t like it at all.
“So what’s to stop him from coming back and attacking you again?”
“Hopefully the medication,” she replied. “We’ll see. I’m careful, Painter. This was just a random accident, it’s not like he’s out to get me. He probably won’t even remember doing it. Just let it go, okay?”
I stood, pacing across the room as I tried to wrap my head around the situation. “So I have to explain to our daughter that her mama’s beat to shit because of some crazy guy, and when she asks whether it could happen again, I just say maybe? No. You need to find a better job, Mel. It’s fucked.”
“I’ll tell her that there was an accident, I’m fine, and it won’t happen again. There’s no reason to scare Izzy.”
“There’s a thousand different ways to be a nurse. I don’t get why you want to be around crazy people and stabbings and accidents. Why would anyone choose that?”
“Because it’s challenging and exciting?” she snapped. “Because these people need me, and every day I’m pushed to the limit of my abilities? Anything could happen and I like that—it’s never boring. You of all people should understand that, Mr. Reapers MC. At least I’m fixing the holes in people instead of making them.”
I spun around, staring her down. “Excuse me?”
“You’re an adrenaline junkie, Painter,” she said. “You make damned good money with your art, but you spend all your time on a fucking motorcycle. Donor-cycle, that’s what we call them in here, did you know that? You get in fights, you go to jail, all for no reason other than getting off on the rush.”
“I’ve been a goddamned saint since I got out, and you know it. I’m not reckless, I take good care of our kid, and I’m not putting myself at any more risk than you are. Sure, I’m in a motorcycle club, but you’re the one who got jumped and beat to shit last night. You’re just as much of an adrenaline junkie as me. Admit it.”
We stared each other down, and despite the black eyes and ring of bruises, my cock was getting hard. Her chest was heaving and her nipples pointed at me through the thin hospital gown.
“Fuck you,” she finally said. I laughed.
“Anytime—we covered that already,” I said, feeling strangely relieved. If she was strong enough to fight with me, she’d be okay. “Will you promise me one thing, at least?”