Page 3 of Hot as Hell (Royal Bastards MC, Montreal, Canada #2)

Chapter Two

Hemlock laid in the back of the ambulance on a gurney.

From his position he could see Charlie pacing back and forth as she spoke to the police officer that had arrived on the scene.

The way her hands moved; he’d love to hear how she was spinning this scenario.

He was sure this wasn’t the first time they’d been called to a hotel for an attempted murder.

Chuckling at the thought, he suddenly felt bad for Charlie.

From where he lay, he could clearly see she was embarrassed.

Hemlock’s chuckle was cut short by a sharp pain in his chest as he tried to shift on the gurney.

His face felt like it had been hit by a freight train, and his lips puffed up so badly he barely recognized himself.

It wasn’t exactly the most flattering look for a guy trying to spend the evening with a woman.

He watched as Charlie continued to pace, her hair frazzled from her running her hands through it and her face a mixture of stress and frustration.

Though she still spoke softly to the officer, her voice had risen enough that he could hear the strain in her words even from where he lay.

“It was an accident.” She was repeating it like a mantra, probably trying to convince herself more than anyone else.

The officer’s face had a look that said I’ve seen everything , and he seemed to take the whole thing in stride. Hemlock guessed he’d probably dealt with enough bizarre hotel situations to last a lifetime. However, Hemlock bet a man allergic to cinnamon would definitely be one for the books.

What really got Hemlock was the way Charlie moved. She kept wringing her hands, walking in tight little circles as she spoke to the officer, looking like she was trying to manage the world’s worst hangover while explaining she hadn’t just tried to murder someone with her lips.

She was embarrassed—there was no hiding it. He could see the way her shoulders were hunched, the way her gaze flicked nervously between the officer and him. It was a mix of worry, guilt, and maybe a little disbelief at the absurdity of it all.

Hemlock felt a pang of sympathy. Still, there was a part of him that couldn’t help but laugh at the sheer ridiculousness of the situation.Almost dying because of cinnamon.It wasn’t exactly the heroic near death experience he’d always imagined.

“Sir, you should carry your EpiPen with you at all times,” the medic said in an authoritative voice beside him.

Cutting his eyes at the young guy, Hemlock wanted to roll them in response.

“It’s in my bag on my bike.” Which was a lie.

The pen was somewhere in his house. He knew he was allergic to cinnamon and was normally careful about consuming the spice.

Hell, he didn’t even enter a store that sold cinnamon smelling items during the holiday season.

“What do you do, Mr. Durand?” the EMT asked.

“I’m a medic.” Another lie, he was a nurse practitioner. He saw the shocked look on the guy’s face and wanted to slap it off. “If you tisk at me, I’ll punch you,” he informed the EMT. Moments later, Razor stepped into view.

What the hell was he doing there?

“How’s the patient doing?” Razor asked the EMT as he gave Hemlock a smirk. All it took to know something had gone wrong was seeing the girl talking to the cops and Hemlock in the ambulance.

“What the hell are you doing here, Razor?” Hemlock demanded. There was no way Charlie called him. She didn’t know them.

“He’s hostile,” the EMT snapped, interrupting Razor and Hemlock.

Chuckling at the situation, Razor commented to the EMT while he ignored Hemlock. “Nurse Durand doesn’t have the best bedside manner. Is he good to go?”

“Yes. But he needs to keep his EpiPen on his person.”

Razor nodded as he pulled out his phone and snapped a picture of Hemlock. The boys would get a good laugh at this shit. Waving Hemlock out of the ambulance, Razor looked at him and tried not to laugh. “What in the fuck did you eat?”

“Nothing. I kissed her.” Hemlock pointed at Charlie. Later, he would laugh about the entire ordeal... Much later. “You never answered me as to why you’re here?”

Razor shrugged while mentally trying to come up with a plausible reason for why he was at The Continental Inn and Suites. “I heard the call come over the scanner and came to see if I could help.”

Knowing a lot about Razor, he knew the brothers tell from playing poker with him and he was lying his ass off.

Scanning the parking lot, Hemlock spotted a cherry red sixty-nine Chevy Corvair.

It wasn’t a car you frequently saw like a Mini Cooper.

Hemlock had only seen the Corvair a handful of times.

Sway’s bestie, Lottie, owned and operated that sweet ride.

“You’re sure there’s no other reason you’re here, Razor?” Hemlock asked as he pointed to the car.

“Don’t be a child, Hemlock. If I were here to see Lottie, I’d say it.”

Hearing Razor’s comment, Hemlock gave a sarcastic response, “Of course you would.”

Razor ignored him. In need of a distraction from Hemlock’s questioning, he walked over to speak with the EMTs. What were the chances Razor would run into one of his brothers while keeping an eye on Lottie? He needed to get over the female before she became a problem for him.

Once the cops and the ambulance had left, and Hemlock felt his lips weren’t about to burst and his face felt less on fire, he walked to Charlie and did his best to tell her it was nice meeting her.

It was just too damn awkward. Handing her his club card was the best he could do.

“If you ever need anything, call me. I owe you for getting me help.”

“You wouldn’t have needed help if I wouldn’t have kissed you,” she said softly. “I’m throwing away all my lip gloss and I’m never kissing anyone again. Not ever,” she exclaimed dramatically.

“That would be a damn shame. You’re one hell of a kisser.” Giving her a smile, Hemlock heard Razor chuckling from behind him. “See ya around.” Leaving her standing in the parking lot, Hemlock followed Razor across the parking lot towards where the bikes were parked.

He still wasn’t convinced Razor wasn’t there to see Lottie. If the brother wanted to keep his love life private, Hemlock wouldn’t pry. Not unless Razor gave him a reason to. Then it’d be on like a game of Donkey Kong.

“You think you can ride?”

“Fuck yeah. Even if I couldn’t, I would, so I didn’t have to come back here again.” Hearing Razor laugh, Hemlock chuckled along with him. Fucking hell, could he not catch a break when it came to women?

Half an hour later, Hemlock waved off Razor as the brother headed out of his driveway. “What a fucking night.”

His phone buzzed at that moment. Pulling it out, he saw he had a message from an unknown caller. Opening it, an image of a small trashcan filled with lip-gloss containers popped up.

Charlie:

Keeping my promise. Sorry about ruining the evening.

Hemlock didn’t know why, but he texted Charlie back:

Hemlock: I’m fine. But I agree it was a hell of a way to get out of sleeping with me.

Charlie: Maybe we could meet up for a coffee down the road.

Hemlock: You never know. Night Charlie.

There was no way he’d be taking another run at the girl. She knew how to kill him. That was practically a suicide mission.

Charlie: Night Hemlock.

Sighing, Charlie shut down her phone, disappointed that her one chance of hooking up with a good- looking guy had been fraught by her lip-gloss. “That’s just the way my life’s going.”

Hemlock almost deleted her number, then second guessed himself and created a new contact in his phone for her.

After staring at the contact info for a second, he shoved his phone away before heading inside.

All he could think about was how he enjoyed kissing that damn girl until he glimpsed his face in the mirror.

His lips were still puffy. Not Kardashian puffy, but they looked like they’d been stuck in a vacuum hose for an hour. “Looking good there, son,” he spoke to his reflection.

Tossing his keys in the wooden bowl on the entryway table, he headed for the kitchen. The last time he saw the damn pen it was on the kitchen island. Running his fingers over his lips, they felt waxy. A side effect from being swollen to their maximum capacity.

Opening the kitchen junk drawer, he moved a few things around until he found the EpiPen that should have been on his person. A lot it could have done tonight if he had had it, he thought as he carried it with him to the bedroom—alone.

Unbuckling his cut, he slipped the leather vest off and laid it on his dresser. Wanting a shower, he stripped off his shirt and carried it with him into the bathroom where he finished undressing. When he tossed his phone on the counter, he heard it ping again and smiled.

“Damn girl can’t get enough of my puffy face.”

Opening the text, he saw it was a chat with all the brothers. And right at the top was a picture of him that Razor had taken. “Son of a bitch!” He would kill Razor as soon as he got to work. There had to be something at the clinic he could use to make him sorry for this crap.

The comments kept rolling in until Hemlock turned off his phone. He wouldn’t hear the end of this crap. At least the Montreal Chapter wasn’t as bad as the Provo brothers with the social media antics.

Reaching into the shower, he turned on the water and waited for it to heat up.

Standing naked and annoyed, Hemlock remembered the shocked look on Charlie’s face when she’d come into the bathroom. Laughing, Hemlock wished things would have gone differently. Which would have been a change for him. Something always happened when he got mixed up with a woman.

Still, he never gave up hope he’d one day find the right one, and not another crazy one. Unlike Vicious, who used to like the crazy ones, Hemlock did not. He did, however, agree with his VP about one thing… crazy bitches were great in the sack. At least from what he remembered.