The drugs that Doc gave me made everything a little hazy and I didn't even feel a thing when he moved me from the sofa to my bedroom. The old dude was strong, I'd give him that. He’d laughed the whole way through pulling the bullet out and stitching me up. I wished I could have felt my arm during that time because boy, did I want to clock him.
“Found yourself a man, huh?” he mused as he pulled the needle through my skin. I was lucky. The bullet had gone into the fleshy part at the top of my shoulder and missed everything important.
“Yeah, something like that,” I grumbled.
“Don’t seem too happy with the idea.”
“I like my life. He chucked a spanner in the works and it’s thrown me a little,” I admitted.
Kit was an amazing guy. He was harsh and commanding, but he had a huge heart that cared about his friends and family. That was evident from the moment I’d been in his presence.I just wasn’t sure why he’d felt the need to claim me?It wasn’t like I wouldn’t have handed him my body on a silver platter given the chance. But he’d refused to take me until he knew I belonged to him.
I didn’t want to belong to anyone. I’d seen the way some of these men treated their Old Ladies. Hell, I’d helped them cheat at times. Not all, but many weren’t faithful. That was the way of an MC. No matter how much I adored these men, the reality was that they had a God-like complex.
I didn’t want that for me. I didn’t want to fall head-over-sexy-heels for a man who only wanted me for the privilege of saying he owned me. I didn’t want to watch in heartache, sitting at home twiddling my thumbs while he screwed club pussy like an energizer bunny.
I respected the club. I respected their rules. But there was a reason I’d chosen the life of a club girl and not pushed to be an Old Lady – there weren’t feelings involved. I knew what I was to them. It was clear as day. They wanted pussy and only pussy.
Kit wanted more, and I’d spent so long offering only my body and keeping the rest of myself locked away. I wasn’t sure if I knew how to give him anything more than that.
Doc stood and moved to the bathroom to dispose of his gloves and wash his hands. When he came out, he hit me with a hard look that I’d never seen from him before. “You’re treating it like you’re walking the damn plank. Taking an Old Lady is making a promise that you will be cherished by not only your man, but the whole club. They will lay down their lives for you. They’ll support you. They’ll care for you. You’ll have family forever.”
Serious was not a word I ever associated with Doc. But here he was, straight-faced and stony. It was clear the club meant a lot to him and I felt as though I was disrespecting him by brushing off the idea of being claimed by Kit.
I tried not to let his lecture affect me. “I’ve had men make me false promises my entire life. I don’t need them now. I found the club and there was no bullshit. They know what they want, I know what they want.”
“And what false promises have been made?”
“A promise of protection,” I said solemnly. Kit had promised to protect me while I was his. Look where that had gotten me.
Doc nodded. “I get it, Harm. But the world doesn’t stop to consider our vows to our loved ones, neither do the people around us who make their own decisions without thinking about how they will affect others. I can swear to my lady that I’ll be home for dinner, but if there’s an accident on the highway because some asshole decided to drink and drive and I get caught in traffic then I’m going to be bloody late aren’t I.”
I let out a small laugh. “That’s a horrible comparison.”
He smiled. “The boy gives a shit about you. Sometimes he’ll promise to be there for dinner, but he won’t make it. Doesn’t make him a bad person. You just gotta throw the dinner in the microwave and wait for him.”
“Doc, just a suggestion, don’t ever go into motivational speaking,” I told him, closing my eyes and throwing my good arm over my face. I felt the numbing wearing off and my shoulder was beginning to throb.
He started throwing orders at me – don’t drive, don’t get the bandage wet, take pain medication every four hours, no sudden movements or I’ll pull the stitches. Blah, blah, blah. Acknowledging his lecture with a hand wave, I heard him snort and after a small amount of shuffling the door opened and closed. I sighed. If only I could get the room to stop spinning now.
“How you feeling?” Kit’s voice made me jump, causing the dull pain in my arm to sharpen. I groaned, wishing this had all just been one big nightmare.
“You been shot before?”
“Yeah.”
“Then do you really need to ask?” I flung at him, not even bothering to lift my arm from my face.
I heard him move closer to the bed before it dipped slightly, not quite enough to jostle me. “You could have answered without the damn attitude.”
I lifted my arm just enough to glare at him from beneath it. He stared me down, I should have known better than to try and intimidate Mr. Scowly-face.
“I’m sore.”
“How are your legs?”
“Sore,” I snapped.
“What’s your fucking problem? The bullet hit your bitch switch?” He grabbed my wrist and pulled my arm from my face, pinning it to my side.