“Chasing a Black Reaper,” I lied, testing out the excuse on her.
Her eyes settled on mine, wary of the lie, but she didn’t call me on it. I adjusted nonchalantly, trying to seem casual about the whole conversation. Still, I took mental note—if the doctor was calling me on my bullshit, it was probably a bad sign for how well King and others would receive it.
“He got a lucky shot off.”
“Lucky shot?” she said, raising an eyebrow skeptically. “From that close? You must have been in some close quarters for this to happen.”
“The life of the club, I guess.”
The only thing that gave me some semblance of calm was that Brianna, as a doctor, would better understand what types of wounds came from what actions more than someone like King. He knew only that people got shot, got wounded, and got killed. Ballistics, medicine, forensics—that was shit he outsourced to others to figure out.
But there had to have been something in my voice that gave away the lie. I could only hope it was because my cock was throbbing and not because the lie was that obvious.
Brianna grabbed the bandage and leaned over, her tits hovering over my thigh. I didn’t particularly give a shit if she saw my erection. She tightened the bandage around my thigh, small dots of blood blooming, but it already felt better.
Truly, she was a fucking professional.
“You’re gonna need to take it easy on this leg for a bit. Couple weeks at least.”
She closed her eyes as she yawned.She looks sexy when she’s exhausted.Hot enough to fuck, that’s for certain. Though, to be fair, when is she not sexy?
But she wasn’t a club bunny. Brianna Gold clearly had standards, and I had to work to meet them before she’d give me anything. Her standards were probably high, and fuck was she out of my league by miles—but when I wanted something, I busted ass to get it.
And I always get what I want.
“You know,” I said in that low voice that seemed to have women at my feet.
It looked as if Brianna Gold was no exception. Her eyes widened, and I dropped my voice to a whisper.
“I know you’re not done treating me. Why don’t you care about my other problem, Dr. Gold?”
She didn’t say anything. My heart raced in excitement.
And then she grabbed her little purse and walked to the door, her ponytail and ass swaying as she walked. Damn, was it a good sight to see, and I wouldn’t mind getting a piece of the action if she’d let me. But something was nagging at me, and the way I felt about her wasn’t just sexual.
Well, that, and I wasn’t getting any ass at the moment.
She paused in the doorway and turned to me.
“I’m a doctor, not a therapist,” she said. “Whatever other problems you have, Crush, you need to solve on your own. And…”
For the briefest of moments, it looked like she’d let her guard down, like she had something to say. The doctor had dropped; I only saw Brianna Gold.
But just as I was rarely anyone other than “Crush, Sergeant-at-Arms,” she was probably rarely anyone other than “DoctorBrianna Gold.” She bit her lip, nodded to me, and left.
And I was left with a treated leg, a still-throbbing dick, and a fuckload of questions.
Brianna
Iwalked out of the warehouse and into the Vegas night—or rather, early morning.
At this rate, I would be up when the sun started to rise.Happy birthday to me. I was dead on my feet already, but my mind was whirring around, with no sign of stopping its tirade. And it was focused on one particular King’s Men member.
Crush. Up close and personal.
Up to this point, I had only ever operated on the low ranks, probably because the big guns rarely got injured. But the sergeant-at-arms was a new top. I’d seen him before in my infrequent meetings with King in-person here and there—Crush always had a presence about him.
But as some on-call surgeon, I didn’t see much of the inner workings of the club. No one but officers really knew what went on behind closed doors. And even then, I had my suspicions that King ran the tightest ship of anyone or anything I’d ever seen.
