But now, it would be like the old days.
I shoved another cardboard box into the cramped hatchback. I didn’t have much. But I hadn’t needed much, either. I’d fast tracked through nursing school and spent all my time on that. I glanced down at my prized possession. My trusty running shoes were all I needed. Well, and books, sleep, and food.
I could hardly wait to taste Gran’s cooking again.
“We’ll miss you,” she added lamely. She wouldn’t, although she might miss the time I spent keeping the kitchen and bathroom clean. But I smiled anyway.
“Take care. Maybe we’ll end up on rounds together someday.”
She nodded and stood back as I shut the car doors and climbed in. This was it. The beginning of the rest of my life.
I turned the ignition with a faint prayer and pulled out into traffic.
Chapter Three
Hunter
“Come on, lady. Purr for me.”
I twisted my hands on her undercarriage, stroking her just the way she liked it. Still, nothing.
What the hell was going on with my ride?
I cursed and sat up, wiping my greasy hands on a rag. I had a backup, but my main squeeze was acting up. I wanted nothing more than to ride my baby all day long. I still needed to clear my mind.
No final decision had been made, but I felt like I was getting booted from the damned club.
And I fucking hated it.
“Fuck this,” I decided. I needed to call the boys to take a look at her. I was missing something. And I was damned sure they would be helping my ass paint the house, too. There was a lot of work to be done, and then some.
I was still an Untouchable, dammit. At least for now. I got on the horn and called my brothers over.
Vice and Trace showed up first. Then Three Boots. Even Mason showed up, but he couldn’t stay long. It was chili day, and he had a pot going at home. He brought Jaken, the bartender from the Jar.
Apparently, the guy was a wizard when it came to motors. And painting houses. And mixing mean drinks, of course.
He wasn’t in the club officially yet, but Mase was working on him.
I knew he’d fit right in. The man knew how to keep his mouth shut. And he was even more popular with the ladies than Shane had been. Something about that Irish accent was an instant panty peeler.
Of course, just being in the club guaranteed you a fair bit of ass if you were into club girls. Being muscular and tatted as fuck definitely didn’t hurt, either. But I was tired of that shit. Most of us were except for Three Boots and Vice, another pretty boy, who both took manwhoring to the extreme.
Everyone took turns looking at Lady. Mason had a couple of ideas about what the problem could be. Trace said I should get a new ride. He favored the souped up newer motorcycles with high-tech features. I told him to go fuck himself.
“Real men don’t need Wi-Fi.”
He chuckled, totally unoffended. He was on a whole other level from the rest of us. Vice slapped his back and took a look.
“She’s fucked.”
“You would know,” I said with a dirty look. Not that I wanted to stick my dick in everything that moved, but he did look fucking relaxed all the time. So did all the married guys.
Jaken bent down and looked her over. He tapped a few places, listening. Then he turned her over, running his hands over the engine before it got too hot.
“It’s not clogged. I think the issue is wear. We need to take her apart and check every gear.”
“Lady doesn’t like to be seen without her drawers on,” I said. It was true. Every damned time she’d had work done, she got a little more finicky.
“Let him try,” Mason advised me, and I nodded.
“If you hurt her, I’ll piss in your Cheerios,” I warned Jaken. He just grinned and started taking my baby apart.
Chapter Four
Claire
I twisted to the side, trying to crack my back. It didn’t work, so I reached back and tried to knead the aching muscles. I couldn’t remember ever being so tired in my life. A long day of travel yesterday and then doing the grocery shopping for Gran and me. Then the chore of unpacking and cleaning it up before I finally sank gratefully into the worn-in chair in the living room and promptly fell asleep.
I blinked and looked around, disoriented for a minute. The well-loved furniture and wallpaper were familiar and comfortable. I stretched, realizing I felt safe and relaxed for the first time in months. Pretty much since the last time I came to visit Gran.
Home. I was finally home. No more cramped apartment filled with nursing students, one of which had the unpleasant habit of bringing home every cute guy she met.
Not that I was judging. She was living her life and having fun, though I was a little concerned that she might not actually finish school with her nocturnal activities. I just came home to eat, sleep, and study. I’d sworn off men when I started my training. Instead, I spent quite a few nights staring at the ceiling, trying to muffle out the sounds of all the sex I wasn't having.
Silence. Blissful, peaceful silence. I closed my eyes and felt myself start to drift back into my nap.
ZOOM-ZOOM!
"What the—"
I sat up and looked around. I had been half awake when I heard the unwelcome sound. It took me a minute to figure out what it was—the persistent rumble of a motorcycle.
A big one, from the sound of it.
It was close. Really close. It sounded like it was in the room with me.
I ran to the window and looked out. My stomach dropped. My mind reeled.
Oh no. Please, God, no.
There was a large, muscular man in worn-in denim and leather revving a bike in the driveway next door. Right next door. Calling it a ‘bike’ was laughable. It was hell on wheels. Literally.
Suddenly, I wanted to cry. There goes my peace and quiet. There goes the neighborhood, too, I thought sourly.
The thing was huge and looked terrifying. Kind of like the man who was standing next to it. Some maniac had actually customized the thing so that it looked like it had bony black wings coming out of the front.
It was massive, the biggest motorcycle I’d ever seen. To suit the rider, I assumed. The man was menacing, to say the least. He stood well over six feet, with long, lean legs and thick, tattooed shoulders that looked at least three feet wide, even though I knew that was impossible. I could only see his profile, but he looked demonic. He had sharp features and a beard, with piercing eyes and dark eyebrows that were drawn in and down in a perpetual scowl.
Satan had literally moved next door to my dear, sweet old Gran.
I shook my head wildly. My eyes were playing tricks on me. That wasn't possible, was it? I'd never heard of someone that broad, not even in anatomy class.
I gasped out loud when he turned a moment later and I finally got a good look at him. Long dark hair poured out over his shoulders, making him look like an avenging angel. His bearded face was chiseled and handsome, with a full pouty mouth.
A smiling mouth. What the heck did a monster like him have to smile at? It was a predatory smile, making him look almost hungry. Like a shark spotting a tasty seal.
In fact, it looked like he was smiling at his next meal. I blinked as heat pooled in my stomach. I had goosebumps all over. My nipples were hard.