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“Come inside where I can help clean it up.”

“I don’t want to bleed all over the floors.”

“Hemlock, it’s blood. It will come off the floors. Now, get inside.”

Grabbing her hand, he let her hoist him up so he could hop into the house. Dropping down into the nearest kitchen chair, he saw the trail of large blood drops he left in his wake. Shit, he would definitely be scrubbing the floors.

When she grabbed his foot, his fist reared back on instinct. He saw her eyes go wide at the sight of it. Feeling like a grade A asshole, he dropped his hand onto the table. “Sorry, it’s a knee jerk reaction when someone hurts me.” The comment said a lot about who he was, whether she realized it or not.

Charlie hid her shock as his fist came up. The only thing that told her he wouldn’t strike her was the wounded look that spread across his handsome face and the sadness in his eyes as he dropped his hand. She had always thought her life had been tough, but wondered what his had been like for him to be ready to strike out at pain inflicted by someone else.

She held his foot up and tried to wipe away some of the blood to see the wound. The pressure only made the foot throb harder.

“Damn woman, a nurse you are not,” Hemlock said through gritted teeth.

“Sorry, I didn’t realize I was hurting you.” Putting his foot down, she didn’t know what to do for him. “It needs stitches, and you need a tetanus shot.”

Hemlock reached forward, lifting her face with his hand. “I’m sorry. I would never strike a woman.”

“I’m not afraid you’d hit me.” Charlie gave him a small smile. “You wouldn’t, right?”

“Never.”

“Good. Now, who do I call to come here and take care of this wound? Or do we need to go to the clinic?”

“Get me my phone. I’ll call Razor.”

If he could feel any worse than he already did, he would. Most women would have turned from him, not Charlie, he knew she had seen his fear when he had suddenly jerked in response to the pain, and it bothered him he hadn’t managed to keep it hidden.

When would his fucking past stop messing with him?

Chapter Twenty-One

Hemlock breathed in the crisp night air as they rode down the highway. Losing himself in the road and the wind rushing past him, he relaxed against Charlie. Out on the highway, he didn’t have to think about work, the club, not even his past bothered him there. Just the freedom that surrounded him as he rode. His mind had been inundated with memories since telling Charlie about his past. He hated when his mind wandered back in time. The past couldn’t be changed, you had to live in the now, for tomorrow was never promised.

Watching as those in front of the pack signaled, he slowed down to turn into the parking lot. Pulling in, he backed up his bike in line with the others. He felt Charlie grip his shoulder and climb from behind him. Removing his helmet, he set it over the odometer, then got off the bike. He smiled when Charlie hung her helmet from the back foot peg.

When he looked back around, everyone was milling about waiting on them before heading into the restaurant. It was supposed to have been a night out, just the two of them. Butinstead, half the chapter was in tow. Seemed no one had any real plans and wanted to ride out to Mull-hallow Hall.

Upstairs was a restaurant that had a nineteen fifties vibe. Downstairs had a very chill bowling alley area with leather sofa sectionals and a martini bar. How they had gotten a reservation for a dozen people amazed him, especially since it was last minute. With his hand on the small of Charlie’s back, Hemlock walked them into the restaurant. Grumbling to himself, Hemlock thought next time he’d keep his plans to himself. He felt Charlie slip her arm around his waist as they entered the establishment and immediately relaxed.

Three hours later, Charlie lifted the glass to her mouth. She was not alone in her drinking. Oh no, Sway, Vicious’ wife and her best friend Lottie, were right there with her and a few of the girls from the club to boot.

They had enjoyed a great meal, afterwards they had managed to snag a lane downstairs. Not much bowling was happening, but drinking was. Especially by the ladies. Now the empty wine bottles lingered on the table as the women toasted to fine men and wine.

Hemlock sipped his club soda, watching Charlie as she laughed. He’d realized early on she was cutting loose, and he stopped drinking. It would be hard enough keeping Charlie on the back of his bike intoxicated much less sober.

She had indulged in everything from Chicago Charcuterie board, which consisted of grilled sausages, assorted cheeses, pimento cheese, pepperoncini’s, red apples, Chicago-style bar-b-q sauce, maple mustard, pickles, candied pecans, fried naan to Atlantic cod and Hot Honey Chicken. Charlie rested her chin on her fist smiling at something one of the other girls was saying when shefeltthatfeeling in her gut. And her smile faded. Jumping up, Charlie darted away in the direction of the lady’s room.

“I got this,” Sway said as she followed in pursuit of Charlie.

That was their clue the night was at its end. Signaling for the waitress, Hemlock asked for the check. Too much wine and rich food sometimes did not go well. He was about to send Lottie to check on Sway and Charlie when they walked back to the table. Charlie looked a lot less chipper than before.

“Are you ready to go, sweetheart?”

Charlie nodded, said, “Yep,” which was immediately followed by a hiccup.

Laughing, Hemlock led her back upstairs almost having to carry her so she wouldn’t fall down. When they got outside, he decided the best course of action was to carry her. Scooping her up, he made it to the bike in record time. It took him and Truck to get her on the bike. Then he did something he thought he’d never have to do. Using a bungee cord from his saddlebag, he strapped Charlie to the bitch bar of his bike.