Wrong Side of the Tracks by Ashley Zakrzewski
ChapterTwo
So far, nothing about Hawk’s night had gone as planned. Not the unexpected meeting he’d had with Eagle before they’d arrived at the bar. Not the blowjob he’d expected from Lara out in the alley but had backed out on at the last minute. And certainly not giving up said blow job because of a pair of green eyes, red hair, and generous tits on Izzy, the Rebel’s Refuge’s waitress he couldn’t seem to forget no matter how hard he tried.
From the moment, weeks ago, when he’d seen the red-haired beauty who Tish called Izzy, the tightness in his lower stomach had led to a raging hard-on he’d been unable to subdue. He’d been successful with getting her into his bed, but then something happened. After many, many nights and hours spent in each other’s naked arms, she left him while he’d been asleep. Since then, she’d barely spoken to him even though they saw each other a lot since the club owned the bar.
Not even basic distractions like Cheery’s celebration, endless alcohol, or Lara’s lips had been able to wipe Izzy from his mind. In fact, since seeing Izzy in the bathroom, the thought of Lara’s mouth on his dick left him nauseous. A situation that had never happened before. When it came to Izzy, the woman who hadn’t even shared her last name, his emotions were in turmoil. He wasn’t a man who wanted a steady woman, and certainly not an old lady, but something about Izzy left him hard and wanting. All. The. Time.
But, at this moment, none of that mattered. Not his issues with his dick. Not the chaos in the room. Not the headache caused by too much bourbon mixed with the loud music. The only thing that mattered was the fact that Izzy lay on the floor behind the bar with a jagged piece of glass sticking out of her bloody hand.
He found a clean towel on the back counter and gently wrapped it around her bleeding palm. He put pressure on the cut surrounding the glass, not wanting to pull it out yet since he wasn’t sure how deep it went. Then he took her other hand and showed her how to hold the towel to keep up the pressure. “Raise your hand above your heart and stay still. I’ll be right back.”
She barely nodded, and he stood to find the bar in absolute chaos. J.R., the chef who wore a starched white apron, had left his kitchen domain and was throwing chairs at men, both prospects and patched members. Tish was arguing with Eagle about getting this mess under control, and a few of his brothers were passing Lara around on their laps as they did shots.
It didn’t take long to find a glass of water, some more towels, and the first aid kit that Tish kept beneath the counter. Luckily it was a professional kit with everything he’d need to get Izzy stable.
He knelt next to her again, not liking how her freckles showed up on her pale skin, how her eyes were closed, and how shallow her breathing had become. “Hey, darlin’.”
Hidden behind the bar, it felt almost quiet. Or, at least, less wild. Almost as if they were in their own world together. But when her lavender scent slammed into him, sending his dick deep into hard-on zone, he chewed the inside of his cheek to keep himself focused.
She opened her eyes, and he took a few breaths to stabilize his reaction. Her spectacular green eyes looked hazy and unfocused. “What happened?”
“Stupid shit. Like what always happens on Saturday night.” While he loved his brothers, this frat-party-on-steroids routine was getting old. Or maybe it was just the bad mood he’d been fighting off the past few weeks. Since Izzy had left him.
She closed her eyes again and whispered, “I hate Saturday nights.”
He chuckled and held the glass to her lips. “Drink some water.”
She did as he requested, and he was surprised. He’d expected more of a fight out of her. He’d been watching her for a few hours. Besides ignoring him, she’d put many of his brothers back into their places with a look that promised blood, violence, and a whole lot of sass. But now, with her wounded hand, she appeared more subdued.
Once she finished the glass, he wiped her lips with a towel and she opened her eyes. “I’m not weak. I just hate the sight of blood. Especially if it’s mine.”
“I’m not a fan either.” Not thrilled with the fact they were on a sticky floor with limited light, he made a decision. He swung the first aid kit’s straps over his shoulder and picked her up in his arms. “Hold onto your hand. Keep the towel against the wound.”
She squeaked, but she didn’t squirm. “What are you doing?
He stood, adjusted her weight, and surveyed the room again. Two prospects were fighting in the center of a ring of men, Tish was now waving her arms at J.R., probably trying to stop him from quitting, and Eagle was making out with Lara in the corner of the room. Since Eagle wasn’t taking charge of the brothers, but no one had called the cops, he decided to let it all go. It was just another Saturday night at the Rebels’ Refuge Biker Bar in Ravensburg, Virginia.
Izzy’s breathing sounded erratic, and he headed down a dark hallway. After passing the restrooms and kitchen, he discovered Tish’s office wasn’t only unlocked, the door was open. Once inside, he used his shoulder to nudge the light switch. The small room was exceptionally neat and tidy. The desk took up most of the space, but there was a small couch against the back wall. Once he lowered Izzy onto the brown velvet cushions, he slipped off the first aid kit and dropped it onto the floor.
“What the fuck is wrong with your people?” J.R, aka Jae Rivera, the bar’s half Puerto Rican and half Korean cook extraordinaire, appeared in the doorway. He wore a frown the size of Virginia. And despite the fact he’d been cooking for hours, his starched and ironed apron was spotless. “Wait. What’s wrong with Izzy?”
“She’s hurt.” Hawk adjusted Izzy’s hand on her lap, concerned about her closed eyes and the fact she hadn’t said a word since he’d picked her up.
“Fuck.” J.R. ran a hand over his shaved head. “What do you need?”
“Clean towels and lots of clean, cool water.”
“Got it.” J.R. disappeared and shut the door behind him.
Hawk released a deep sigh, grateful for the almost silence. The only sounds he heard were the A.C. compressor and the analog clock ticking on the desk. He brushed away strands of hair from Izzy’s forehead. “Hey, darlin’.”
Her eyes fluttered a few times until opening. Her green gaze roamed the room until landing on his face. “Why am I in Tish’s office?”
He gently held up her hand still wrapped in a towel. Blood had seeped through, staining the white towel pink. “You hurt yourself.”
Her eyes widened, and she sat up straighter. Her face seemed even paler, and he took her chin and forced her to meet his gaze. “You don’t like the sight of blood?”
Her eyes widened, and she shook her head.
“Okay.” He placed her hand on her lap and kept his gaze locked with hers. “I need to remove the glass, and you may require stitches. After I clean the wound, we’ll decide if a hospital visit is necessary.”
She shook her head again. “No hospital.”
He nodded. “Got it.” Although if the wound was bad, he’d override that decision.
J.R. opened the door and carried in the towels and a large bowl of water. “It’s a fucking shitshow out there, brother.”
From the music and shouts making their way down the hallway and into the room, that was probably an understatement.
“Next problem on my list.” He kept his voice level and pointed to the end table near the couch.
J.R. left everything on the table and touched Izzy’s head. “You okay, Izzy?”
She nodded even though her lips were pinched, and her eyelids fluttered.
“Hand me the trash can?” Hawk pointed to the can near the desk. He wanted it nearby in case she puked.
J.R. dropped it next to the couch and headed for the door. “You need anything else?”
“Another bowl of water and a cup of hot tea. Two sugars. No milk.” He glanced at the clock, noticing it was almost eleven. “Make those two teas.”
“Gotcha. And just a FY-fucking-I, I’m shutting down the kitchen.” J.R. grabbed the door’s edge, closing it as he left. “I’m not feeding animals.”
Izzy laughed softly, and Hawk smiled as well. Once they were alone, he said, “One day I’ll learn the story of why J.R., a boy from the Bronx who became a French-trained chef from Le Cordon Bleu in Paris, is working in a biker bar deep in the Virginia mountains.”
She adjusted herself to sit higher and gave him a half smile. “When you find out, let me know.”
Hawk opened the first aid kit to check the contents. Color was coming back to her cheeks, and the tea would perk her up. “I’m going to unwrap the towel, but I want you to focus on something else in the room.” He met her gaze again, making sure she followed his directions.
She nodded, stared at her unwounded hand, and wiggled her middle finger. Then she shifted her gaze, over his shoulder, to a poster of a dog riding a motorcycle. It was an old ad for a brand of Virginia bourbon that no longer existed. Probably because it tasted like cat piss. Speaking of cats, Vixen slunk from beneath Tish’s desk and jumped on the back of the couch. She curled up on top of the cushions, not far from Izzy’s head.
Izzy whispered, “Hey, sweetheart.”
Vixen purred in return.
“Vixen doesn’t like anyone, but she’s taken a liking to you, darlin’.” He put on a pair of disposable gloves he found in the kit, held Izzy’s wounded hand, and began unwinding the towel. “Now focus on that poster.”
She shifted in her seat. “Okay.”
A moment later, he unwrapped the towel and dropped it on the floor. Then he put the bowl of water on the couch, next to her bare thigh. Her shorts were so short, especially now that she was seated on the couch with her apron up around her waist, his intense imagination shifted into overdrive. He chewed the inside of his cheek to keep himself focused on his task instead of the miles of firm, smooth skin laid out before him. Skin he’d once explored with complete abandon. Gently, he placed her hand in the bowl of water and washed away the blood and dirt.
“How is it?” Her scratchy voice was one step above a whisper.
“Not bad.” Now that her hand was in the water, bits of glass sank to the bottom of the bowl. Without the grime and blood, he could see the largest piece of glass. The tip embedded in her palm was small and not deep enough to warrant stitches. With one firm tug, he pulled out the shard. Some blood followed, and he swished her hand around.
She grimaced, but kept her gaze on the poster across the room. “How do you know so much first aid?”
“I’m former military. I also have many, many brothers—both real and acquired. Injuries that require basic first aid are kind of an ongoing thing with us.”
She chuckled until he lifted her hand out of the bowl and pressed one of the clean towels against the wound. Then she grimaced again.
“Sorry. This won’t take long.”
The cat moved closer to Izzy’s head, and she closed her eyes.
J.R. appeared, this time by kicking open the door and carrying in a tray with the tea mugs and another bowl of water. He placed everything on the desk. “What do you want first?”
“Hand Izzy a cup of tea. Then bring over the water. You can take this dirty water bowl and dump it.”
She opened her eyes, shifted on the couch, and held out her other hand to J.R. “Tea actually sounds nice.”
Hawk smiled at her. “My mama swore by it.” It didn’t take long to rinse her hand in the clean water. Then he pressed a dried towel to her palm and raised her hand above her heart level while she drank her tea.
J.R. patted Izzy’s shoulder and found the dirty water bowl. Meanwhile, Hawk laid out the bandages and antibiotic ointment he needed. “I don’t think you need stitches. But I am going to use a butterfly bandage before I wrap it up. Then we need to figure out the antibiotic situation.”
She sipped her tea, released a deep inhale, and gave him a weak smile. “I don’t normally drink tea, but this tastes good.” The cat jumped off the couch and disappeared beneath the desk. “Vixen has to be the saddest cat I’ve ever known.”
“She’s just shy,” J.R. said as he headed toward the door with the water bowl.
Hawk snorted. “It’s obvious neither of you know anything about cats.”
“Whatever.” J.R. shrugged. “Once you’re done in here, VP, you’re in charge out there. Or I will quit this time.”
“You always say that.” Hawk found the white medical tape and scissors. “But you never leave.”
“This time I pinky swear.” He balanced the bowl with one hand so he could flip his middle finger to the room. Then he disappeared into the hallway.
“I don’t think J.R. understands the concept of pinky swear.” Izzy smiled at him. “Thanks for the tea. It’s delicious.”
The change in her mood eased the tightness in Hawk’s chest. ”My mama always gave us hot tea whenever we were injured. The hot water and sugar work as a temporary distraction from the pain and can give you a small hit of energy without the caffeine jitters you get from coffee. Now, slowly lower your hand.”
She sipped her tea while he unwrapped the towel. The cut had stopped bleeding, but he still used two small butterfly bandages and a shit ton of antibiotic ointment before wrapping it in layers of white gauze and taping it all up. “How does that feel?”
“Better.” She handed him her empty mug and sighed. “I’m sorry I freaked out over the blood.”
“Don’t be.” He got up, surprised to find his legs stiff from kneeling. Then he pulled his burner cell phone out of his back pocket and dialed.
Mace answered on the first ring. “What do you need, brother?”
Hawk sat on the edge of the desk, noticing for the first time the plate of homemade chocolate cookies J.R. had left for Izzy, and laid out the situation for the club’s treasurer who also happened to be a doctor. He ended with, “Can you get me a bottle of antibiotics?”
“No prob. I’m on the road right now with Acid, but I’ll drop off a bottle at the Powder House tomorrow afternoon at church. In the meantime, keep the wound clean and dry.”
“Already on it.” He shut his phone and placed it on the desk. “When I get your antibiotics tomorrow afternoon, I’ll drop them off here. In the meantime, you can take some ibuprofen. It will help with the pain and swelling.”
She held her arm against her breasts, making sure to keep her hand above the level of her heart. “Thank you. Although I doubt I’ll need antibiotics.”
He crossed his arms over his chest. “I know what people say about taking too many antibiotics, but I’ve also seen infections turn into sepsis. That means, tonight, you need to watch out for any confusion or disorientation, shortness of breath, fever—”
“I know what sepsis is.” She placed the mug on the end table and tried to stand—until he gently pushed her back on the couch. “I promise to come find you if I think I see gangrene setting in.”
He frowned. “Just promise me you’ll rest.”
Tish opened the office door and surveyed the room. “Izzy needs to get back to work.” She glanced at the tea and cookies on the desk and raised an eyebrow. “J.R. never brings me cookies.”
He grabbed the plate and held it out to Izzy. “Eat one.”
She grabbed two cookies and bit into one. “Tish, I’ll be okay in a few minutes—”
“I don’t think she should work tonight.” He found the packet of ibuprofen tablets in the first aid kit and used his teeth to rip open the plastic. “She can’t get that hand wet.”
“Fine.” Tish sighed heavily and rubbed the back of her neck. “But I still need help.”
“We have three prospects out there.” Hawk handed Izzy two pills and the second cup of tea. Then he gave Tish a smile he hoped would lessen her stress. “I’ll tell them to do whatever you need. Even if it includes cleaning bathrooms.”
Tish raised an eyebrow. “Are they old enough to serve alcohol?”
Hawk tilted his head. He honestly wasn’t sure. “Uh, sure.”
Tish’s hands landed on her hips and she shook her head. Despite the aggravation in her eyes, she wore a small smile. “You really need to learn how to lie, Hawk. You might want to take some lessons from Eagle. He’s a master.”
A truth Hawk knew well. “I’ll try harder next time.” He glanced at Izzy. Color had returned to her cheeks, and she’d finished one cookie and was working on another. “Rest here for a bit. Don’t go up to your apartment until you’re sure you’re steady on your feet.”
“I’m really okay,” she said around a mouthful of chocolate chip cookies.
Tish’s cell phone rang, and she took it out of her back pocket. It was an old-fashioned prepaid burner phone because she, like him and his brothers, preferred to have some privacy alongside their access to the digital world. She read the text and frowned. “I need to get back to the bar.” She snapped the phone shut and tossed it at Izzy. Izzy caught it with her good hand, and Tish smiled. Except the look on her face had so many hard edges, it could cut glass. “Go home, Izzy. Hawk’s prospects will finish your shift tonight.”
Izzy dropped the phone onto the couch, next to her thigh. “Thanks.”
Tish opened the door leading into the hallway. “Hurry up, Hawk. I’ve got customers waiting.”
He handed Izzy the last cookie and nodded at her teacup. “Finish these. Do you need anything else?”
She shook her head. “Thank you.”
He held up a hand. “Don’t thank me yet.” Then he winked at her. “I’m still trying to rack up points.” She looked away, but her laughter followed him into the hallway. And while part of his mind was focused on her sexy legs and full tits that filled out her T-shirt, the other part desperately wanted to know what message she’d gotten on Tish’s cell phone. Because he knew that Izzy didn’t have a phone of her own.