Chapter 12

12

ROM

“ I don’t think I can fit anymore in the Jeep,” Layla laughed as she studied her full trunk with her hands planted on her hips.

“We can come back for more if we need to.” I slipped my arms around her waist and pulled her back against me. Although, it was unlikely since I intended to have all her shit moved to my place soon. “Let’s head back, gorgeous. I’m hungry.”

“We can stop at a drive-through.”

“They won’t have what I want,” I murmured with a wolfish smile before using her hair to pull her head back at the right angle for me to kiss her deeply.

“Oh,” she squeaked adorably when I released her lips. Her cheeks were bright red, but her pretty brown orbs kindled with desire.

Chuckling, I took her hand and led her over to the passenger seat of my SUV. The first time I walked her over to it in the bar parking lot for a date, she’d looked at it with shock. I’d laughed at her reaction, asking if she thought I only drove my motorcycle.

“I hadn’t really thought about it. I just like riding with you on your bike.” She’d blushed, and her eyes had turned molten, making me as hard as a rock. We never made it to dinner after I dragged her back upstairs.

When we decided to make the trip to her old apartment and pick up more of her stuff, she suggested we take her car. One of our prospects, Lee, had brought it back with some clothes and other necessities when he and Kansas were in their mutual hometown of Old Bridge, Tennessee, a few weeks ago.

After I’d laughed for a good minute or two, I looked down at myself, then at her MINI. “Don’t think I’ll fit, gorgeous.”

So we’d hopped into my Jeep and made the drive, and now that I’d convinced her to bring as much shit as possible, we headed home.

My eyes strayed to the leather vest she wore and satisfaction filled me like it always did when I saw her wearing my brand. Mac had come through, and I’d had the vest for Layla a couple of days after our discussion.

A part of me had wanted to plan something elaborate and fancy since wearing my cut was as good as wearing my wedding ring when it came to the club. But I decided against it because I would be proposing with a real ring as soon as she admitted she loved me.

That night, I’d stripped her bare, then pulled out the vest and had her put it on. I’d barely given her enough time to admire it in the mirror before I bent her over the bed and fucked her while staring at my brand on her back.

Shaking off the memory before I was too hard to drive, I opened her door. Before she could climb up, I turned her toward me and grabbed the sides of her vest, dragging her up against my body. “Have I told you how fucking hot you look wearing my property patch?”

Layla giggled, making me smile. “Not in the last couple of hours.”

“That’s ’cause I can’t think about it too often. It makes me too damn hard.”

She melted into me, and I lifted her onto her tiptoes to plant a quick, hard kiss on her lips. “Let’s go, gorgeous.” I slapped her ass as I shifted her around and helped her up into her seat.

The drive only took a couple of hours, but Layla quickly fell asleep. She’d been helping me at the bar over the past four weeks, but I’d made her stop when she started napping and seemed more tired than usual.

If she didn’t start getting her energy back soon, I was going to drag her to the doctor, even if I had to do it with her kicking and screaming the whole way.

There was a birthday party at the compound tonight, so I drove to the Silver Saints clubhouse instead despite my desire to take Layla home to bed. She’d been looking forward to it, so I figured we’d go for a little while, then I would make her go home and rest.

“We’re here, gorgeous,” I murmured to my girl after parking in front of one of the bay doors to the garage owned by the club. We did normal automotive work, but our business was mostly known for our custom work on cars and bikes.

“Sorry, did I fall asleep again?” she asked sleepily as she sat up and stretched.

I opened my mouth, but she cut me off with a cute little glare. “We can argue about this tomorrow, Roman. Oh, look!” She pointed at the clubhouse entrance, where Karina and Lorelei stood and talked. “I’m going to go say hi!” She was out of the car like a shot, and I rolled my eyes at her little stall tactic. She could put it off for a bit, but I would win. When it came to her health and safety, I wouldn’t budge.

I exited the Jeep and slammed the door shut just as Cash called out to me. I lifted my chin and glanced over to check on Layla before ambling over to talk to Cash—who was clearly hovering to keep an eye on his woman.

At least we’ll look less like obsessed stalkers if we’re talking to each other , I thought with a chuckle.

Just as I walked up next to Cash, my eyes once again strayed toward my old lady.

Then my world blew the fuck up.

The sound of gunfire filled the air, and I watched in horror as a bullet missed Karina by inches, then two more shots rang out as all three women dropped to the ground. I was already running when I saw the pool of blood beneath Layla, and my heart felt like it was in a vise.

There was a flurry of activity around me as women and children were herded into the house, and my brothers secured the compound while tracking down the threat.

But I was only aware of the fact that Layla wasn’t moving. Lorelei rolled to her side, facing Layla lying on her stomach, and gently shook her shoulder, calling her name. But there was no response.

I finally reached Layla and scooped her into my arms as gently as possible while trying to be fast. Lorelei scrambled to her feet, assuring me she was unharmed, and we raced for the front door. My breath caught when I saw the blood-soaked fabric on Layla’s arm.

Then she moaned, and the oxygen whooshed from my lungs. “Ouch,” she muttered as she blinked up at me with a disgruntled expression. If I hadn’t been so terrified, I might have laughed.

“Patch is on his way to the clinic,” Scout called out as he stalked into the lounge behind us, heading down the hall to Mac’s office.

“I’m sure it’s just a scratch,” Layla sighed, grimacing when she tried to lift her arm.

“Don’t move,” I barked as I carried her through the clubhouse to a door that led into a small clinic attached to the side of the structure. It was set up to care for most situations and even had a surgical suite. Patch had demanded it be built after a few years of treating substantial wounds in one of the bedrooms.

When we entered, Amanda—Patch’s nurse and the sister of one of my club brothers—pointed at another door. “Take her into the exam room. Patch will be here in a few minutes.”

She followed us, and when I stood by the table holding my girl, she smiled gently. “You’re going to have to put her down so we can examine and treat her.”

I grunted, trying to think of a way for them to do all that with her still in my arms.

Layla patted my arm and gave me a weak smile. “It’s okay. You’ll be right by my side, Roman.”

She had no idea the effect she had on me when she said my name. It always sounded like velvet and made it difficult to tell her no. I sighed, long and loud, making it clear that I was giving in under protest.

I tenderly set her on the padded table and kissed her forehead.

“Just let me cut away her sleeve so it doesn’t get stuck from the clotting blood.” She retrieved a pair of shears from a drawer and quickly exposed Layla’s arm. Then she looked over Layla’s body to determine anywhere else she might have been injured. “Other than a few scrapes, her arm is the only place she sustained an injury.”

Thank fuck.

Patch hurried into the room, and Amanda handed him a pair of gloves before she scooted out of his way.

I took Layla’s hand but moved to the side so he had plenty of room to work. He asked her a series of questions as he examined the wound.

Finally, he stood and peeled off the latex gloves as he spoke to Layla. “The bullet went right through. It hit the fleshy part of your arm, so even though there was a lot of blood, the wound is relatively minor.”

Some of my tension eased away at the reassurance that Layla would be okay. But I was still worried.

“I want to stitch it up, but it shouldn’t take long to heal,” Patch continued. “You’ll be sore and a little stiff, but by the time we remove the stitches next week, you shouldn’t be in much pain.”

He tossed the gloves in the trash and turned to Amanda, instructing her to get everything set up so he could sew up the wounds.

“Need to talk to you for a second,” I told my brother. He nodded, and we stepped out of the room. “I want you to do a full workup on Layla. Use this shit as an excuse so she doesn’t fight me on it.”

Patch raised an eyebrow. “Worried about anything in particular?”

I shrugged. “She’s been looking a little ragged lately—tell her I said that and I’ll cut off your balls—and taking frequent naps. And I think her stomach is bothering her because she hasn’t been eating as much.”

It looked as if Patch was going to say something, but then he just nodded and returned to the room.

“I’d like to do a full physical and run some tests,” he told Layla with a reassuring smile. “Just as a precaution.”

Layla frowned. “I thought you said it was minor?”

“Only a precaution, Layla.”

She sighed. “Fine.”

“Great. I’m going to step out while you get changed.”

Amanda walked to a tall cabinet and opened it to grab a hospital gown from the top shelf. She smiled at me and cocked her head toward the door. “Why don’t you wait in the hall while I help her with this?” she suggested.

I snatched the fabric from her hands and growled, “I’ll do it.”

To her credit, she didn’t argue. Likely because she was familiar with our attitudes toward our women.

“She can leave her underwear on. Just crack the door when she's ready.”

I nodded and waited until she left to help Layla remove her clothes and put on the gown. When I opened the door, I saw Patch standing to the side talking to Grey. I raised an eyebrow when both men turned their heads in my direction.

“Find out anything?” I asked.

Grey nodded.

“I’ll get started,” Patch told me before disappearing into the exam room. I moved to stand in front of the door where I could see everything happening while Grey stood to the side so they were out of his sight.

“Dax and Patriot caught up with the shooter. Had on a Devil’s Jesters cut.”

My hands balled into fists, and fury engulfed my body. “He’s a fucking dead man.”

Grey nodded. “Agreed. But I think he was just the one assigned to the job. Pretty sure the order came directly from their prez. Mac’s gonna interrogate the bastard for any intel while I track down the motherfuckers in charge of those assholes.”

“I need to take care of my woman,” I said through a clenched jaw. “Then I want a crack at him.”

“Figured. Dax took him to The Block.”

The Block was how we referred to the building we used to keep… guests . It was where we extracted information and made them disappear. It was basically a set of cells and interrogation rooms. It was like a cell block, which was how it got its name.

I jerked my chin up, and he did the same before taking his leave. I stayed in place for a few minutes, keeping an eye on my woman while I tried to calm down. I didn’t want Layla to pick up on my emotions and stress when she needed to rest.

Finally, I felt in control and walked into the room.

“She’s all set,” Patch announced. “Make sure she eats, stays hydrated, and rests.”

Amanda popped in and smiled at Layla as she handed her a scrub top. “I didn’t think you’d want to put the bloody shirt back on.”

Layla returned her smile gratefully. “Thank you.”

I helped my girl get dressed, then argued with her for a full minute about letting her walk. Ultimately, I gave in, choosing to pick my battles carefully. I had a feeling there would be quite a few until she fully recovered. No fucking way would I budge if I felt like she was jeopardizing her health.

We were at the door when I heard Patch say my name. I turned to see him stalking over to me. He stopped at my side and spoke in a low voice so that Layla wouldn’t hear him. “If she’s in pain, she can have Tylenol. Nothing else. I don’t want anything stronger in her system until I get the results of her blood work back.”

My eyes narrowed. “You suspect something is wrong?” I managed to keep the fear growing inside from making my voice tremble.

“No. Just want to be sure, that's all.”

He seemed sincere, which calmed my nerves a bit, so I didn’t press him any further.

I led Layla up the stairs to the room I’d often used before she came to live with me. “We aren’t going home?” she asked when I ushered her inside.

“Sorry, gorgeous. You’re safest here, and I have some club shit that can’t wait.”

“Okay.” Her immediate acceptance of my explanation made me want to kiss the fuck outta her. She’d filled the role of old lady perfectly. Never making me feel guilty for the shit I couldn’t tell her or when I had to leave for a run or some other MC business.

I stalked over to a long black dresser on the wall opposite the bed and opened the top drawer. There were several clean shirts, and I pulled one out before closing it.

After helping her change and get into bed, I curled myself around her. While I held her, I explained everything that had happened in the past few months and why she’d been shot. Guilt was eating at me, but she placed her palm on my cheek and whispered, “This isn’t your fault, Roman. It’s the work of madmen. Lunatics who wouldn’t know the first thing about love and loyalty. Things that make the Silver Saints righteous, even if your methods aren’t exactly…legal.” She giggled, and I turned my head to kiss her palm.

“I’m going to have to take care of some shit soon, gorgeous. And you need rest. Sleep, baby. I’m going to hold you a little longer before I have to go.”

I wanted to stay there, to keep her in my arms until the fear abated. But the need to keep her safe dragged me away.