“I have to go, and you have rounds.” I fidget uncomfortably. He’s way too close, and if I’m being honest, a little too tempting. I have a strict rule. No bikers. Even if they are gorgeous, smart, funny, and you picture them every time you masturbate.
I may stick to my guns, but I’m still human.
“Being an adult is such a downer sometimes.” He steps back and retrieves his tablet off the counter.
“Aww. Don’t get too discouraged. I’m sure you’ll findsomeoneto keep your motorcycle warm.”
“Kayla.” Dev snatches my arm as I start to walk away. “Is it really because I ride a bike?” He gazes down at me in all his strange, professional, edgy glory.
“It’s a big part,” I admit wistfully.
“One day, you are going to have to explain why.”
I look away, the painful memory exhuming itself like a dead hand from the grave.
“Maybe one day.” I pacify him, slipping my arm from his grasp.
“You working on the floor tomorrow?” Dev asks as he walks backward toward the door.
“I’m here all week,” I inform like the circus act I am, grabbing my coffee from the microwave. I was reheating it before he took the liberty of interrupting me.
“Tomorrow then.” He winks as he spins on his heel and disappears out the doorway.
Once he’s gone, I inhale a collective breath. As much as I hate to admit it, the man is wearing on me, and his persistence has an appeal.
I grab my backpack hastily off the chair and sling it over my shoulder as I walk out of the room. What I really need is a nice long run to clear my head, and there’s a treadmill at the gym with my name on it.
It’s a little after five p.m. when I leave the hospital. It’s early June and the weather is perfection. Upper seventies with a slight summer breeze. As I climb into my white H3, I toss my bag onto the passenger’s seat and contemplate skipping the gym completely. Maybe I’ll go running outside instead.
I pull out of the parking garage and drive through the small town Mercy Medical is situated in. It’s a modest size hospital but has all the essentials. I’ve worked as a per diem nurse for the last two years; I love the freedom and the diversity. It’s allowed me to work in every area of the hospital from emergency to pediatrics to cardiology. It keeps things fresh. Cardiology is where I spend most of my time. It’s also where I met Dev. He’s the newest cardiologist on staff, but you’d never know it by the way he runs the place. We hit it off from our first shift together, and he wasn’t shy about hitting on me. That’s sort of a no-no, doctors and nurses fooling around, but it happens all the time. You have to be careful which stockroom you walk into on any given day. I’ve caught Dev with his pants around his ankles more times than I care to admit. Once, he even invited me to join.
Um, thanks, but no thanks, playboy.
I like sidestepping the nicknameskank. But most women around these parts are hard up for riders. They’d do almost anything to get with one and would most definitely kill to keep one with the prefix Doctor.
Dev doesn’t seem to be a one-woman kind of guy, though. He’s completely content with his steady stream of revolving women. Or so he tells me. Correction, brags to me. Not sure what he’s trying to accomplish there. Trying to make me jealous? Maybe? It’s not working. It just makes me urge him to get tested for STDs.
I resign to keep him in my fantasies where he’s solely mine and disease-free.
I stop at a red light at an intersection by the main highway. I use the word highway loosely. It’s really just a main route with four lanes.
The quiet serenity of the desolate street is suddenly interrupted when a loud, street bike pulls up behind me. I’m surprised it took this long for one to show. The nice weather usually has riders rolling out in droves. I stare through the rearview mirror as the guy adjusts his gloves then has the audacity to pull up right next to my driver’s side door. The street is barely wide enough for my truck, let alone this pompous ass who thinks he owns the road. I glare at him as he sits casually on his white bike. You don’t usually see many of those. He has a white helmet to match, with a blacked-out face shield. If you look closely enough, which I’m definitely not, you can make out translucent flames on the body of the bike and the headgear. I tap my finger impatiently against the steering wheel waiting for the light to change. This guy is just too close for comfort. I want to scream ‘Share the road!’Friggin’ bikers think they own the place. I try to ignore him, but he revs the engine obnoxiously, forcing me to look in his direction. He’s staring right at me through his visor. I don’t shy away. Like hell am I going to let him intimidate me. I’ve scraped more roadkill off the cement than he’d care to know. I rev my engine back just for the hell of it before the car behind me lays on his horn. I look forward to see the light has turned green and a blur of white zoom out in front of me, making a left on to the highway. I roll my eyes and follow at a normal person’s speed.
I drive down the hilly road with the white motorcycle ten car lengths ahead. He weaves between lanes and even does a wheelie as he hits a straightaway. What a fuckin’ show-off.
At the next red light, we meet again. And again, he’s way too close for my liking. I can practically reach out and touch the leather of the backpack strapped to his shoulders. I try to keep my focus on the road, but he continually opens the engine as if trying to get my attention. I finally relent and look over at him. This time, his shield is up, and a pair of arresting blue eyes are staring back at me. My heart actually flutters. I swear those eyes have looked at me before. I don’t get much of a chance to inspect them further as the biker is suddenly slammed into from behind. He’s catapulted through the red light into cross traffic. It all happens wickedly fast, while at the same time in slow motion. The bike barrels into the driver’s side of a moving car, and the rider is flung from his seat, flying right over the hood of the sedan. I don’t see him hit the ground, but I do hear the screeching of tires and the blowing of horns. I instantly react, attempting to open my door, but it jams. The car that creamed him is flush against my driver’s side. I see the driver’s head bobbling all over. Drunken cocksucker sideswiped me. His jalopy doesn’t even look like it’s legal.
I rush out the passenger side and book it straight to the mangled man on the pavement.
“I’m a nurse! Call an ambulance!” I shout as I brush past two bystanders. “Out of my way!” I drop to my knees and check his vitals.
He has a faint pulse. “Sir, can you hear me?” I don’t shake him or move him in any way in case of a spinal injury. “Sir!” I yell again with no response. Then I feel warm liquid beneath my palm. Blood. Lots of it. I look him over, finding a small rip on the inside thigh of his dark jeans.
“Shit!” I tear them open to expose the wound. Fuck, he’s bleeding so much it looks like he nicked an artery.
“Does anyone have a belt, rope, cable tie,anything?I shout at the onlookers as I apply pressure to the wound. If I don’t compress it rapidly, I fear he’s going to bleed out.
“Here!” A woman unbuckles her belt. With clumsy fingers, she gets it off and hands it to me. I use the thin leather strap as a tourniquet while keeping pressure on the wound, an active attempt to slow the bleeding. “Hang on, moto.” I clench my jaw as I kneel above him for what feels like forever until the ambulance arrives. I shake off the flashback. The blood, the wreckage, the limp, lifeless body. I break out in a cold sweat but hold my position.
