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Spin
Present...
The woman is finally awake, and I can’t stop staring at her. I have no clue who she is, yet in the same breath, I feel like I know her far too well. The nurse brought me to her room after she told the woman how I’d found her and called an ambulance for help. Apparently, waiting around was enough for her to want to thank me.
“Purple hair and a purple eye... your favorite color or something?” she asks after a moment of taking me in. I know I can be a lot for some people. Toss in the black jeans, biker boots, fitted thermal, and my cut, and I send people in the other direction. Unless they know me—then it’s a different story entirely. I may be intimidating at first impression, but I’d give you the shirt off my back if you asked nicely.
“Or something...” I’ve always worn a colored contact in one eye because it’s blown. My iris is completely black, and it fucks with people more than the purple iris does. They can reason with a fake icy-gray eye but not a black one, for some reason. The less questions I have to deal with, the better. And don’t get me started about Halloween—each year, I get so many damn questions about it being a costume. No, motherfucker, I really have a purple eye and a grayish, almost white, contact in my other eye to save you from your made-up emotional trauma.
“You’re so colorful,” she replies thoughtfully.
Her comment doesn’t surprise me, but it still manages to burn on the inside and solidifies why I generally stay away from people. I’ve been called a freak since I was a little kid. All my ink came after the crazy hair colors and styles when I was thrust into my life’s work. I loved to sketch when I was a teen, which eventually led me to a tattoo shop. The first needle hit my flesh at that same shop, and I knew tattooing was what I was meant to be doing.
Joining the club came along shortly after. The first brother strolled in, looking for an artist to give him some custom club ink. After a few sessions of tattooing him, I knew I needed a motorcycle as well. He had this look of freedom about him, and I desperately craved that peace with everything I had.
“You’re kinda beautiful, you know that?” she continues, taking in my silence and catching me completely off guard.
No one has ever called me beautiful before.
“Yeah? So are you, Little Momma,” I respond more bluntly than usual.
She quietly gasps, eyes growing wide. “Wait... you’re an Oath Keeper?”
A brow raises as my back stiffens. What’s she know about my club? “And if I am?”
Her inquisitive gaze flickers over my frame once more, this time pausing on the many different patches of my cut. Attention thrown our way is typically negative until people get to know us. Her interest has me on edge, ready to beat feet and get the fuck out of here. “I was looking for you guys?” It comes out more like a question than a statement. She’s obviously unsure if it’s the right answer.
She doesn’t strike me as a bike bunny or a club slut, especially not pregnant, but what do I know when it comes to women? I can fuck and tattoo well. Anything past that and I don’t get much feedback from them. “What’s your name, doll?”
“Naomi, and you’re... Spin?” She nods to my breast, where my name is sewn into the leather. The opposite side has an identical patch with my club position. I’m the treasurer and a fully patched officer. Have been for years.
“Yeah. I introduced myself to you on the side of the road.”
She points to her head, cocking it. She flashes a goofy smile and mentions, “Comatose. Remember?”
“Of course. Longest ten minutes of my fucking life.” I automatically cringe with my language around the baby. “My mouth is crap at times. I’m trying to mind it around your kid.”
She glances around the room before her attention lands on her cute belly poking out of the covers. There’s just something about pregnant bellies I find ridiculously sexy on a woman. “You’re attempting not to swear because of my baby?”
Nodding, I can’t help but stare as her teeth sink into her lower lip. She’s looking at me like I’m a popsicle, and she wants a lick. Or some dick. I mean both. Fuck. What is it with this chick? “I was saying I found you and introduced myself while waiting for help. You okay?”
“I am now, thanks to you. You guys really are a safe haven, aren’t you?”
A safe haven?
What’s she talking about? Then it hits me like a ton of bricks.
This woman is in danger.
She wants Sadie’s help—well, essentially the club’s protection—from whatever evil’s hurting her.
“He give you that nasty bruise on your face?” I ask with a chin lift toward her. I don’t know anything about her story, yet I’m ready to fuck the world up on her account.
Suddenly, Naomi can no longer meet my stare as she slowly nods, her fingers plucking at the thin blanket. She has no reason to be ashamed or embarrassed. Quite the opposite. It takes a lot of strength for a woman to get out and ask for help. In her case, she would have had to drop everything, leaving whatever she may have had behind to start fresh here. Her walking down the road doesn’t make sense, though, and we haven’t had a recent vote in church about taking in anyone new.
“Wanna tell me exactly what you were doing passed out in the middle of the road? If you came here for what I’m thinking, then someone should’ve picked you up to make sure you weren’t followed. There’s a way we do things.”
“I understand if you need to turn me away.” She goes on to explain how she had to leave in a rush and ride a bus for hours on end to get here and not have any way of reaching the club. Her cheap prepaid cell has no internet, so she couldn’t look up the phone number on Sadie’s website, and she never had the chance to email either.
This woman was walking all damn day.
Alone.
Pregnant.
In the cold.
Just to look for the club.
She’s throwing me for a loop. The bravery on her part has me more interested in her than I’ve ever been in the past with the other pregnant women. There’s only been a few we’ve helped so far, but Naomi is an enigma, sucking me in already.
“I’ll figure something out.” The strong woman tries to put on a brave face, but she’s not fooling me one bit. I bet she’s terrified, and believe it or not, that’s completely normal. Besides, she’s crazy if she thinks I’ll let her go get hurt.
There’s something about her—I can’t explain it, but I feel like I know her. Those ten minutes with her, alone, attempting to comfort her baby while making sure she held on, did something to me. “You don’t have to figure anything out, doll. I got you. Once the doc says you’re straight to go, we’ll pop smoke and head to the club. I’ll keep you safe.”
Her chin trembles as she asks, full of disbelief, “You’ll do that for me? Why?”
“Of course I will. Any man who will put that on your face while you’re carrying a baby, or anytime at all, doesn’t deserve you.”
“It was my ex’s father. He’s the one I think will hurt or kill me for leaving.”
“It doesn’t matter if it was the president of the United States. Any guy who raises his hand to a woman deserves to be put down.”
“Thank you, Spin. Will everyone else be okay with me showing up, though? I understand there’s a process. I just had to try my luck with showing up. I get it if they want to turn me away.”
“They’ll be fine with it. I’ll speak to my brothers and get it sorted. In the meantime, how about you take it easy until the doc lets you go?”
“I can go now. Only need to sign my discharge papers. I already put my normal clothes back on and everything.” I glance at her shirt, noting it’s not the bland hospital gown, so she must be telling me the truth. I’ve been too distracted by her presence to pay attention to what clothes she’s wearing. “They offered to let me stay overnight for observation, but I can’t take the chance of hanging around here longer than necessary. They did an ultrasound, gave me some IV fluids, and checked my vitals. I’m okay now. The doctor believes the stress and exhaustion took a toll on me and caused me to faint.”
Knowing her body was pushed to the point of passing out brings the caretaker in me to the surface. I basically raised my little sister, then helped out my club when we were searching for sex traffickers and their victims. Helping women is something deeply ingrained, and with Naomi, the feeling is tenfold.
“All right, I’ll get you situated at the club. Then we can go from there with the supplies you need.” I hold my hand out to assist her out of bed, and she places her palm in mine. She’s really curvy with a perfect round belly poking out, but she still somehow manages to seem small to my tall frame. Her flesh against mine is electric, making zings of awareness shoot through my body.
After swiping her bag up off the chair, I hook it over my shoulder and keep her hand secured in mine.
“I can carry my bag.” She starts to protest, but I’m not having it. The woman was just laid out in a hospital bed, for Christ’s sake.
“So can I, Little Momma. I’ll give it back to you once we get to the bike. I’ll take it nice and slow so you can hold on. You start feeling faint, sick, hungry, or anything at all, you let me know.”
“Okay.”
“Bet,” I mumble, satisfied with her easy nature. I know one thing’s for sure, seeing her hot ass around the club will be a welcome sight. The brothers will agree, but I’m making it clear she’s off-limits until she takes an interest in one of them. If she does, anyhow, but we’re probably too rough and gruff for her tastes. Who knows? Women aren’t my specialty.
We stop at the nurses’ station all decked out in plastic sparkly garland and paper ornaments taped to everything. The staff here has always been friendly and helpful. I’ve seen a few movies with crazy nurses, but I’ve never come across one before. Naomi signs a few papers while the doc tells her to be careful and come back if anything feels off.
“You take care of her.” An older red-headed nurse directs my way.
“Yes, ma’am. I got Little Momma’s back. Won’t let her push herself too hard again.”
She offers me a grandmotherly grin and pats my bicep. “Oh, you’re a strong one. No doubt you can handle it.” Her face tints as she observes aloud, making the other nurses laugh.
“Come on, He-Man.” Naomi squeezes the hand I’m still holding. She huffs a little, turning to leave. She doesn’t care about the nurse, does she? I was being polite, nothing more. I stopped caring what people think of me long ago, but something scratches the back of my neck—this feeling like I hope Naomi isn’t embarrassed to be seen with me.
“You good?”
With another sigh, she meets my gaze. “Yes.” The word leaves her on a whisper.
“That didn’t sound so convincing. Hit me with whatever you’ve got going through that beautiful head of yours.”
“It’s just... the woman was openly flirting with you... while you were holding my hand. The others were giggling and eyeing you up. It was rude, is all.”
“Seriously? They were?” Am I oblivious to this shit? ’Cause how the fuck did she notice them paying me any extra attention and I didn’t? I was right there!
“Yeah, they were all doe-eye, hanging on your every breath.”
A chuckle escapes as I shake my head. “Nah, they were just being friendly. Most people around here are the same.”
We walk through the electric doors into the Texas air as she casts me a suspicious glance. “Are they female?”
With a shrug, I admit, “Usually, yeah.”
She grunts. “Harrumph... exactly what I thought. It’s because you’re hot.”
My throat seems to close up on me as I absorb what she’s said. Naomi thinks I’m hot? And she believes it’s the reason why women are kind to me around here? Pausing next to my motorcycle, I remove the bag and spin Naomi around. “Changed my mind.”
“Huh?” She squeaks, fear filling her expression.
“Calm down, doll. I’m talking about the bag. I’m wearing it across my chest. No way am I putting this on you to pull you back with the wind. It’s too dangerous.”
“Oh! But won’t you be uncomfortable?”
“Don’t worry about me. Keep you and the baby in mind.” I gesture to her stomach, then place my hands on her thighs, fingers resting right under her voluptuous booty.
She squeals a little, her face flaming as she asks, “What are you doing?”
“Hands on my shoulders, babe. Hold on tight while I get you on my bike.”
“Woah, big guy! I can get on myself. Don’t worry.”
“Nope. Won’t have you stressing your body or the baby. The ride will be taxing enough on you.”
“Don’t tell me you’re one of those controlling types.”
“I’m not. I’d never control you in any way. I care about your safety and health, about your happiness and wellbeing.”
Her lower lip trembles as tears spring in her eyes. “You’re seriously sweet, you know that?” she mumbles, placing her hands on my shoulders.
“Hold on tight, Naomi.”
With her nod of assurance, I tighten my grip and lift. She yells and giggles the entire time, making me grin like a damn fool. I love hearing her sound so carefree, and yet it makes me rage inside that someone had attempted to steal this brightness from her. They better hope I never come across them, or they’ll learn what true darkness feels like when I rip them apart.
“Feet down.” I direct and watch as she reaches with her tiptoes on either side of the bike. Spinning the duffle bag to my front, I continue to have her hold on to my arm while I carefully put my leg over. Normally, I’d never get on my bike this way with someone else, but I needed to get her on it first so she didn’t hurt herself. “Wrap your hands around my waist and hold on tight.”
“Okay, I will.”
“Promise me you won’t let go until I tell you to.”
“I promise, Spin. The only way I’m coming off your bike is if I fall.”
Fuck.
She shouldn’t say something like that. Now it has me thinking about keeping her.