She gives me a once-over. “Looks the same to me.”
“Ahhh, c’mon, I’m much prettier.” I try to grin, but it hurts too fuckin’ much. “Maybe not tonight, but you get the idea.”
“If it wears a cut, drinks Jack Daniels, and rides a Harley . . .”
“One big difference. I don’t own people. I take responsibility for them.”
She shifts, and her robe separates just enough to get an eyeful of her cleavage, and yeah, my dick also notices her tits outlined in the sheer material of her tank top. Beat to shit, can barely stand or see straight, yet she’s got my cock ready and willing.
She angles my chin toward the light. “You really should let me clean out some of those cuts.”
As much as I’d like to have her soft hands on me, my main objective is to warn her about Viper, and I did that. Lame excuse to see her again, but I don’t need Viper showing up for round two, especially when I’m in no shape to defend myself or her.
“I’m gonna head out ‘cause I’m no good to either one of us like this.” I motion to my face. “But I’ll be back tomorrow, and then we’re gonna figure shit out.”
I did what I came to do, thinking seeing her would be enough. Get her out of my system and move the hell on.
“Like what?”
“You’re gonna tell me your connection to the Dogs, then we’re gonna decide how to fix this dump up.”
“I told you I’m not selling.”
“I know what you told me, but it looks like you need me and the Kings as much as I need you. I mean we need you—I mean your building.” Shit, when did I forget how to fuckin’ talk?
She stares at me but doesn’t say anything. For the first time since I met her, she doesn’t fire back some bitchy, hard-ass comment, so I take it as a win.
I gulp down the rest of the bourbon, lay my glass on the bar and spin toward the door. I take four steps, and the room tilts like somebody shoved me hard. I stumble, then brace myself against the bar.
“Are you all right?” Sammie ducks under my arm to support me.
I suck in a few breaths to steady myself, and my chest rattles. “Those assholes must’ve cracked a rib.”
“There’s no way you can ride.” She anchors my arm around her shoulder. “I can’t believe you were even able to get here in this condition.”
“Hey, I’m the prez of the Kings of Anarchy.” I smirk at her. “I can do anything.”
“Not tonight, you can’t.” She angles me away from the bar, heading toward the back of the room.
“Where we goin’?”
“Upstairs to my bedroom.”
“Any other time, that would sound like a damn good fuckin’ idea, but . . .”
“So you can lie down.” She dramatically rolls her eyes. “And I can take a look at the damage.”
“You a nurse or something?”
“Not technically, but over the years, I’ve seen and taken care of my fair share of stab wounds, broken bones, and once even a bullet wound.”
“Now I’m really interested and impressed.”
SAMMIE
I anchor his huge, muscled arm around my shoulder, then wrap my other arm around his waist. Every part of this man is like a coiled spring. Tight and firm without an ounce of unwanted flesh.
I guide him to the stairs, grab onto the banister, and we slowly make our way up the steep staircase. So steep and narrow, we are shoulder to shoulder and hip to hip. At five-feet-six, I’ve never considered myself short, but this man towers over me. Even the steps creak under his size.
