Page 36 of Spooked (31 Days of Trick or Treat: Biker & Mobster #13)

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

MAEVE

Of course, the company doesn’t respond immediately.

I’m a fool to think they will. Nevertheless, that doesn’t stop me from refreshing the app, hoping a new email will appear.

Surely they’ll understand and make allowances as to why I’ve been out of touch for so long?

There was no one to contact them. The emergency contact listed on my medical records was my one living relative, Siobhan.

When originally asked, I had no idea who else to name and had forgotten to change it since then.

It shows what a sad person I am, that even now I can think of no one I could name in her stead.

Except for Hound.

Only, I glance around the room. He’s left me.

Or more truthfully, I drove him away. Throwing my phone down on the bed, I realise how stupid and unfair I’ve been.

So intent on trying to keep my job, I hadn’t realised how cold I was coming over to him.

Sure, my drive to survive since I originally left Tucson was deeply ingrained in me.

But what does a life mean without someone to share it with?

If my job is still open, what do I gain?

I’ll go back to my lonely existence, living only to go to work every day, feeling I’m contributing to the world by sorting out other people’s finances.

Accountants have a reputation for being boring, and that sums me up perfectly.

My job and life in LA is safe. Stepping into the unknown, putting my happiness in someone else’s hands, demands a leap of faith, one I’m not sure I’m strong enough to take.

Having met Hound, though, is survival enough? What would my life have in store for me were I to throw caution to the wind and stay in Tucson to see whether a relationship between me and Hound would work? Or, seeing that he’s left me alone, have I lost the chance?

My scalp itches. Absent-mindedly, I scratch it, realising just how long it’s been since I’ve taken a shower. Damn near four weeks in a coma, and I haven’t been out of this bed. As I smooth my hands down the strands, I realise my hair’s a tangled mess.

Hound never mentioned that.

Suddenly, I’m embarrassed. I must look like a total wreck. Yet he still kissed me, held me, touched me as if I were his world.

A new urgency rises, and I press the call button for the nurse.

When she appears, I ask to be disconnected from the monitors so I can go to the bathroom and get tidied up.

When she knows my mind is made up, she takes all the sensors off my body and helps me sit up.

Then she steps back, her hands at the ready, as I gingerly stand up.

I feel as weak as a newborn foal as I shakily get to my unused feet. It takes a moment to get used to being upright, and I make my way toward the bathroom, balancing with one hand on the bed.

“Let me help you,” she says, as I reach open space. I’m grateful for her supportive arms around me.

I didn’t realise she was going to assist me in the shower, but even with the chair, I’m glad of her help, despite the loss of my dignity.

Clean again, I dress in a fresh hospital gown, having nothing else to wear—my clothes from the accident were cut off me and destroyed, and I’ve no idea what happened to my case, which had been in my car. My wet, but clean, hair hangs loose and heavy, and I’m grateful when she hands me a comb.

“So where’s your man gone?” she asks conversationally.

Frowning, I bring back into my mind the last words that he said. “He’s gone to get something to eat.” An explanation simple enough that she accepts it without further comment.

It might satisfy her, but it does nothing for me. My head is in turmoil with numerous questions. Topmost, of course, is whether he’ll be back. Or has he come to his senses and washed his hands of me? I certainly hadn’t given him any encouragement to stay.

When she’s happy I’m safely back on the bed, the nurse leaves. It’s then that tears start to leak from my eyes, as I slowly pull the teeth of the comb through the wet strands of my hair. Even when all the tangles are removed, I keep up the motion, finding it hypnotic and comforting.

And all the while, the door to my room stays stubbornly closed.

The clock on the wall tells me an hour has passed, and then two. My hair’s air-dried, I look more presentable, but my heart feels empty, as I wonder for whom.

He’s given up on me. And who could blame him? He offered me a new life, and I showed no interest.

What do I want? That’s the problem. It’s never been a choice.

I went to my gramma’s as Mom was dying, and after her death, I was kicked out with nowhere to go.

I’ve muddled through life doing things that I didn’t want to do.

A paid whore? Never wanted that, but it was necessary.

I took the chance to study for my degree, and then accepted the first job offered because I was too afraid to do anything else.

I’ve never been presented with alternatives as to where I could go.

Now I have, I’ll try not to choose the wrong one. But maybe, I already have. I’ve let Hound go.

I know he’s a member of the Satan’s Devils’ club. If he doesn’t come back, maybe I could go and seek him out.

My hand covers my mouth as the realisation hits me. I don’t actually give a damn about keeping my job in LA. A future with Hound is far more enticing. That is, if he gives me another chance.

When the door opens, I don’t even look up, expecting the medical staff to be doing their rounds once again. But the gruff clearing of a throat gets my attention.

It’s Hound in the flesh. For a moment, I’m so stunned, I can’t get any words out. I must look like a fool with my mouth gaping.

He enters, that practiced motion with his crutches bringing him to the chair beside the bed, moving stiffly as if not sure of his welcome. His eyes examine me. “You look better.”

Well, anything would be an improvement on how he last me. “I showered,” I say, needlessly.

As a conversation starter, it falls flat. An awkward silence descends, then he takes in a shuddering breath, and nods at my phone that I’ve long forgotten, and which is lying where I left it at the foot of my bed.

He clears his throat, then asks hesitantly, “Have you received your employer’s response?”

I’d honestly forgotten about it. “I don’t know.

” As he raises his eyebrow, I take a deep breath.

“I’m frightened, Hound. More scared than I was in the house.

I don’t want to go back to LA. I want to stay in Tucson and explore whatever this connection between us really is.

But should I really burn my bridges, based on knowing you only for a few short hours while I’ve been awake? ”

Earnest eyes stare in to mine. “What are you trying to say, Maeve? Do you want to stay or go? ‘Cause one moment it sounds like you’ve made a decision, and the next you’re talking yourself out of it.”

I fiddle with a crease in my hospital gown and grimace. “When you asked if I’d ever just ‘lived’, I’d have to say no. If I still have a job in LA, the sensible side of me says I should go back so I can provide for myself.”

“I can support you, Maeve.”

Pursing my lips, I shake my head. “I’ve had only myself to rely on for so long, I don’t have it in me to depend on anyone else.”

He leans forward, clasping his hands between his legs. When he looks up, there’s a quirk to the side of his mouth. “What if there was a way you could stay here, explore wherever this is going with us, but still have a salary coming in so you could support yourself?”

I match his half-smile. “We might have spent time in a dream world, but this is real life.” Looking at him wryly, I add, “I think.” As he chuckles, I shrug. “Maybe I could find a new job if I looked for one, but I can’t bank on that.”

“What if there was a job already available to you?” His brow rises.

I just stare at him, perplexed. “Look, I know you’re hesitant about the MC, but the Satan’s Devils run their businesses aboveboard.

We may not abide by all government rules, but we pay taxes, and someone has to deal with that.

We have a construction company, as you know, a tattoo parlour, a strip club, an auto shop and,” he gives a small laugh, “Tash, Blade’s woman, is an author.

Bullet’s woman has her own hairdressing business, and every one of those needs someone to do their accounts.

” He’s caught my attention. I didn’t know they had so many interests.

“I’ve been talking to Wizard, our prez.”

My eyes crease. “I thought Drummer was your prez?”

“Wiz was wiped out in the same accident that I was. He’s still in this hospital, on the next floor, with a badly bruised spine and two broken legs.

But he’s healing, and soon he’ll be back at the helm.

Not that Drummer wouldn’t probably agree, but it’s Wizard who’ll have the final say.

” He glances at me to see if I’m listening.

I am. I’m hanging on his every word. “Dollar, our treasurer, wants to step down from his role, but hasn’t been allowed to as there was no one to take his place.

” Quickly, he clarifies, “He’d still have his seat at the table, still report to the club.

But you’d be the club’s accountant doing all the hard work behind the scenes. ” He finishes, and his head tilts.

I’d be their accountant? Though I wouldn’t be reporting to the club itself, that would still be this Dollar’s job. Not so much different in any accountancy firm, where it’s the directors who call the shots and report to the board, while people like me get on with the daily slog.

He can see I’m considering it. “There’d be a decent salary attached.”

“Like what?” I ask, interested. I’m a money person of course.

Grinning, as if to see I’ve taken, or am at least circling the bait, he clarifies, “To be negotiated, but I’m sure it wouldn’t disappoint.”

Part of me wants to jump right in and take it. The sensible portion of my brain tells me to wait. And the side of me that Hound brings out, asks innocently, “And would you be part of the incentive?”

Rising, he doesn’t bother with his crutches and hops his way to the bed. Leaning over, his mesmerising eyes make contact with mine. “Darlin’, I’m the main benefit.”

His mouth is so close, I can’t help but reach my hand to his head, pulling him down to me, sighing as our mouths meet.

As our kiss deepens, and he takes charge, arousal floods through me, making my nipples peak through the thin hospital gown.

When his hands, drawn by what his eyes see, tease those peaks through the material, quickly following up by applying his talented mouth, I know I’m about to throw all caution to the wind and accept everything the Satan’s Devils have to offer.

Hound makes me feel alive.

Only just able to frame words, I gasp, “And can you describe exactly what your benefits comprise of?”

He raises his head only to leer at me. “My house, my bed, my cock. The bitch seat on my bike. My patch on your back, and possibly even a ring on your finger if that’s what you want. Maybe a couple of rug rats if that’s in our future.”

“It’s too soon to promise anything.” My words are the right ones, the old cautious me. But the new me wants everything he offers, and more.

I’d given up on the idea of ever having a man of my own, thought I’d never be brave enough to take the plunge.

I tell myself I need time to think about his and the club’s offer, to work out all the pros and the cons.

But honestly, is this gift horse any wilder than the experiences Hound and I have already shared?

Perhaps this is one time I shouldn’t look too closely in its mouth.

I’m capable of only giving him one answer, and a short one at that. “Yes.”

My word unlocks a beast in him. He leans over me, pressing me into the bed, his lips on mine, his hands everywhere, and I’m replicating his actions, urging him on. It’s heading for a repeat of our interactions in the house when we’re interrupted by a shocked gasp.

“Ms. Sullivan, sir, please remember where you are.” The nurse is clearly having conniptions. She has a pinched look to her face. “Sir, please remove yourself from Ms. Sullivan’s bed, else I’m going to have to call security to escort you out.”

With laughter in his eyes, Hound eases himself away. Hopefully, it’s only me who can see him adjusting himself in his jeans. Tomorrow, he mouths at me.

I can’t wait.

With no equipment still attached to me, the nurse has to complete her assessment the old-fashioned way—a blood pressure cuff, a thermometer, and a hand to my pulse.

Luckily, she makes no comment on my increased heart rate, and sensibly, seeing what she’d just interrupted.

I mean, with a male specimen like Hound, who wouldn’t be affected?

When she finally exits, pointedly leaving the door open, Hound and I look at each other. I giggle, he chuckles, then repeats his promise. “Tomorrow, in my bed.”

To remove temptation, I slide myself under the sheet, my foot catching something and sending it to the floor. Hound picks it up. It’s my phone. He hands it to me.

Unlocking it with my face, I check my emails once again. Drawing in a sharp breath, I tell him, “Under the circumstances, they’re holding my position open for me.”

I hear Hound’s fuck murmured under his breath, and see his eyes fill with disappointment.

I don’t lead him on. “Which means I’ll have to resign my position, effective immediately.”

“Fuck, woman,” he snarls, brushing his hands through his hair. “Talk like that is just going to get us back into trouble with the nurse again.”