Goldie(Night Rebels MC Romance Book 4)(15)

Sucking in her breath, her heart beating wildly against her rib cage, she hooked her arms around his neck, pressing her body next to his. "Then let's do something." For a few seconds, sparking desire zinged between them, filling the spaces and making time stand still. And then he stepped back and scrubbed his face.

"Don't you have clients to meet?"

Blood began to pound in her temples and she quickly looked away, her pride bruised. Brushing past him, she opened the door. Before leaving, she looked over her shoulder and said, "I'd rather not see you again. And you don't need to babysit me. I can take care of myself." Without waiting for his reply, she shut the door and marched out of the shop.

When she got into her car, she rested her forehead against the steering wheel and tears trickled down her cheeks. I've got to meet this happy-in-love couple in fifteen minutes and I'm going to look like a mess. She raised her head and dug out a few tissues from her purse. Looking in the rearview mirror, she dabbed at her eyes, then saw him coming toward her car. She threw down the tissues and started the car. He picked up his pace and she pulled away from the curb, slamming on her brakes when a horn blared at her. Regaining her composure, she made sure the way was clear and drove away.

I'm so done with him. And what's Ryan's deal? There's no way Nolan's coming to Alina to find me. I wish he'd stop treating me like a baby. She switched on the radio and turned up the volume, getting lost in the beats of Maroon 5's "Cold." But as hard as she concentrated on the song, she couldn't get him out of her mind. She could still smell his scent, feel his closeness, and hear his deep-whiskey voice. And the way he'd kissed her was forever burned into her lips and her memory.

What am I going to do?                       
       
           



       





Chapter Ten





Fresh perfumed flowers made Rose Higgins's room beautiful at Cherry Vale. All of her friends, children, and grandchildren had made sure she had plenty of flowers and cards to decorate her room. Since the doctor had told her she had to be there for a few months, she was glad she had the bed by the window because there was a view of the mountains.

The stroke had felled her all at once; one moment she was baking her special chocolate mocha cake for the charity bake sale, and the next she was hooked up to tubes in a stark white room at St. Joseph's Hospital. That'd been a month ago, and she'd just come to Cherry Vale less than two weeks before. Her roommate, Marge, had been discharged the previous day, and the facility hadn't placed a new patient in her room.

The hum of the machines filled the room, and the sedatives in the IV fluids dripping into her veins made her groggy. Outside, the stars were masked by the dark clouds that change shape as they move across the inky sky. There was little light in Rose's room but for the digital numbers on the machine next to her bed. Since it was after ten at night, the overhead hallway lights were switched off, so only the floor lights cast any sort of illumination in her room.

She inhaled the sweet scent of the bouquet her son and granddaughter had brought her earlier in the evening when they'd come to visit, then closed her eyes.

A shuffle across the linoleum woke her and she turned her head to the doorway. A dark silhouette leaned against the doorframe. She couldn't make out any features to tell who it was as the figure stood there immobile. Had she been able to speak, she would have asked who it was, but she lay in her bed watching the figure. Maybe it's one of the aides. Is it already time to turn me on my side? Having the pain medication in her system didn't help Rose think or remember clearly.

The figure came farther into the room, but it was so dark and her vision was so blurry from the medications she was taking that all she could see was a shadow approaching her. She wished she could smile, but the doctor told her that would come in time with physical therapy. Rose was positive it was the aide, and she braced her body for the turn. She hated being turned on her side because she couldn't tell the personnel whether she was comfortable or not, and if she wasn't, she'd have to stay in that position until they'd come back to turn her again in two hours. I hate being helpless! But she had to focus on getting better, on the positive. She'd already made tremendous progress in the short time she'd been there.

The shadowy figure came over and stroked her forehead. Its hand was cool and soothing while the movement was hypnotizing. Am I dreaming? Is this an angel? Rose's thoughts were all jumbled, mixing and bumping into each other. Then the shadow bent down and whispered in her ear, "I'm setting you free." His voice was deep and his icy breath tickled the hair on the back of her neck. Who are you? The voice was vaguely familiar, but she couldn't place it.

He straightened and pulled something out of his pocket. A syringe. It's one of the nurses. It must be time for my shot. But the doctor hadn't ordered any shots; all of her medicine was being dripped into her bloodstream by the IV. The shadow fussed with her IV, then rushed out of her room. Her drooping eyelids closed as sleep began to claim her.

Then Rose's eyes flew open and she gasped. Her heart pounded wildly and she feared it would burst through her skin. Frantically her eyes searched for the call button. She could still move her left hand, but she couldn't remember which side of the bed the button was on. A searing pain tore through her chest and she clutched at it in a vain attempt to soothe it. Black filled the edges of her vision and her heartbeat flooded her ears as her breath came in ragged, shallow gasps.

Wetness leaked from her eyes as she realized there would be no more walks in the park, no more gardening or baking, nor would she see the snow again. She'd never see her children or grandchildren.

A suffocating sadness choked her as her fragile heart beat one last time.





Chapter Eleven





"You sure are gentle with your hands," the brunette said as she stood up from the chair. "I bet you get a lot of repeat customers." She winked at Goldie.

"Once a person gets a tattoo, they get addicted. Just make sure you follow the instructions on the aftercare sheet. If you have any problems, let me know."

She brushed against him, her hand skimming the waistband of his jeans. "Does feeling nasty qualify as a problem?"

He stepped away from her and shook his head. "I'd say it's more of an asset." He opened the door to the room, then moved away. "Just keep the tat moist and don't scratch or pick at it."                       
       
           



       

She stopped at the doorway. "In case I have any problems, do you have a number I can call you at?"

"The number's on the instruction sheet. Just ask for me. I have to prep the room for the next customer." He turned away and smiled when he heard her heels tapping on the hallway floor. Having female customers come on to him went along with the job. Usually he'd have some fun with it either by flirting or taking them up on their offers, but that day he wasn't feeling it.

He cleaned up the room, then sank down onto the desk chair and opened the screen on his desktop. The dark eyes of Nolan Colley stared at him. Goldie had pulled up everything he could find on the douchebag just so he knew who he might be dealing with. To him, Nolan Colley looked like a snot-nosed punk who needed a few fists to the face to teach him a lesson. When Hailey told him Nolan had hit her, anger raced through him. He'd love nothing better than to catch the fucker in Alina and give him a good beating before he sent him packing.

Hailey. What the fuck am I going to do about her? He hadn't been able to get her out of his mind since she'd come to the shop the previous week. The last thing he wanted to do was rebuff and embarrass her, but that was exactly what he did when he'd spurned her. The feel of her body so close to his, her hand scorching his skin, it was all he could do to keep from kissing her and pushing her on the table to give her a good fucking. Then he'd thought of Ryan, how his friend had trusted him to take care of Hailey.

For the past week, he'd kept an eye on her without her knowing it, and each time he saw her, he wanted her more. She was on his mind all the damn time, and he had Ryan to blame for it. Several times, he'd thought about having a prospect watch her, but he knew Steel wouldn't go for that; she wasn't his old lady, so he couldn't justify asking his president to assign a prospect to do non-club work.

Glancing at the clock, he wondered if his appointment had flaked on him. He rolled his shoulders back and a forth a few times to work out some of the tightness. For the last six hours, he'd been hunched over working on tattoos. He wondered how Hailey's ink job looked, and hoped he'd get a chance to check it out.

Minimizing the page on the screen, he leaned back in the chair. He had to stop thinking about Hailey and all the dirty things he wanted to do with her. Each time his dick reacted to his thoughts of her, anger would shoot through him. He'd never been in such a predicament with any of the women he'd dated and screwed over the years.

Maybe it was because she was into him and had been ever since they were kids. It'd been so obvious that she'd had a crush on him, and the way she looked at him now told him she still did. There was no way he was off on the signals she'd been sending him since the first night she came into the tattoo parlor. And even though she knew he was Garth, she had still come in to see him the previous week. But you're the older one. You're the one Ryan trusts. You can't fuck this up.