Indivisible (Steel Talons Motorcycle Club Book 3) (2 page)

CHAPTER FOUR

Susan watched her father’s eyes open slowly, as she stroked his head. She offered him a smile, as he fought for lucidity. She pushed back a need to cry, noting that in just the few days since she’d been here, her father had lost at least another ten pounds. He was so doped up, she wouldn’t have been surprised to hear he’d slept through his last four or five meals.

“Hey, Dad, how are you feeling?” she asked, trying to sound bright—though her whole body was tense with the need to break down and sob. Once again, she’d found him alone, her mother and sister nowhere to be seen.

He moved his mouth to talk and made a face. Susan reached for the water on his rolling table and held the straw to his mouth so he could drink. It ran down his face, but he managed to swallow a little, enough to wet his tongue but not enough to help his chapped lips. Susan’s chest ached.

“I’ve been better, but I slept a long time. No one woke me up for hours.” His voice was hoarse, and while Susan had avoided him for years, she missed the strong man with the deep, commanding voice.

She glanced at the charts on the wall, seeing that he’d had his vitals checked less than an hour earlier. Either her father was losing time or was so doped up to ease his pain that he didn’t even know when the attendants came by anymore. Neither scenario was pleasant to consider. “Well, I’m glad you feel rested, at least. Are you in any pain?”

His face twisted. “Not pain. Sore. Don’t move a lot. Back’s killing me. And dry.” He indicated his mouth with his fingers clamped together. “Don’t get to drink much. I can’t really hold the cup.”

Angry at the rest of her family, Susan decided that she wasn’t going to leave his side until she found someone who could take her place for a few hours, making sure he had the water he needed. In the meantime, she put the mug down and leaned to place her hands behind each of her father’s shoulders. “Come on, we’ll see if we can’t move you a little, get rid of some of that soreness.”

She lifted him to sit straight, wincing at how feather light he was, and helped him twist from side-to-side. She took his arms and raised them over his head, forcing his body to stretch, even though he didn’t have the strength to do it himself. She put his legs through some exercises, and then she helped him back into a comfortable position, stuffing a pillow behind his back. He had developed a couple of bed sores, causing rage to surge through her. She was going to report mistreatment and see that they were doctored instantly.

“Dad, I’ll be back in just a minute, okay? I want you to close your eyes and rest until I get back.” He nodded vaguely, his head already lolling with the exhaustion of her care. Susan rushed into the hallway, looking for the appropriate person to level her anger on. She somehow didn’t see the wall of black leather until she slammed into it head on.

Bouncing back and catching herself with one hand on the wall, Susan’s eyes traveled up the massive barrier and stared in surprise. “Boxer?”

Boxer gave her a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Hey, little one. Imagine running into you here.” He chuckled.

Susan rolled her eyes at the pun and started to move on, desperate to tear someone a new rectum. However, she stopped and frowned. She had a bad feeling settling in her gut. “Why are you here?”

He scratched at the handkerchief tied around his head and avoided meeting her gaze. “Oh, you know, one of the brothers had a little issue. We take care of our own and all that.”

He was purposely vague, and she narrowed her eyes. “What happened to Jim?” She wasn’t stupid. If it was anyone else, he would have just answered her straight up. Boxer was a terrible liar, and he was worse at evading direct questions.

His big shoulders fell, and he sighed, squeezing the bridge of his nose. “He sort of had a little too much to drink, and I thought I’d get him checked out.”

Susan closed her eyes and counted to ten. “Alcohol poisoning.” She made it a statement. “Where is he?”

“I’m not sure. They took him back in the emergency room pretty quickly, and they shoved me out after I told them he’d already pumped his own stomach and showed them the evidence.”

Too late she realized he was covered in vomit, and she’d plowed right into it. That explained the odor that had begun to assault her senses. She wrinkled her nose. “Are you the only one here with him?”

“Willie’s around somewhere, but I’m not sure where he went. He was sweet on some little candy striper type downstairs.” Boxer smirked. “He’s so creepy sometimes. I don’t understand how he gets laid so much.”

It was more than Susan wanted to hear, and she held up her hand to stop the conversation. “Come with me. I’ll find some scrubs that’ll fit you so you can get out of those clothes. They reek.” She strode down the hall toward the supply room, Boxer dogged her heels like his namesake, and she ducked inside, rummaging for a 3X. She passed him the set and pointed to the bathroom. As he started to walk away like an obedient child, she called after him, “Why are you up here anyway?”

Boxer stopped and turned around, and Susan was amused at his blush. “I sort of knew your father was on this floor and wondered if you were around.” She frowned at him curiously, and he meekly told her, “Someone’s got to talk him out of his suicidal mission, little one. I thought maybe you could give it a shot.”

He walked away, and Susan clenched her teeth. She had to take care of her father first, perhaps getting someone fired for ignoring their duties; but, as soon as that was cleared up, she was definitely going to find Jim Wade and give him a piece of her mind for his stupidity.

CHAPTER FIVE

Something soft touched Jim’s hand, and he started to pull away, not wanting to leave the fantastic dream where Susan’s nipple was in his mouth as she rode him, straddling him as he sat on his bike. The stroke was somehow familiar —and insistent. He came awake slowly, wincing before he even opened his eyes at the bright lights assaulting him.

He groaned, and the voice of an angel broke through the nasty headache that was coming on like a sprinter towards a finish line. “What the hell were you thinking, you stupid son-of-a-bitch?”

Despite the berating and judgmental words, the tone was soft and tender, and Jim’s lips tilted up at the corners. He would have recognized that angel’s voice anywhere. “I was thinking about you, actually.” His voice sounded like a steel toe boot on gravel, but at least he could form words now.

“Really? And the thought of me made you so sick you had to wash it away with a gallon of liquor?” Sarcasm. It was as sweet as chocolate right now.

“It wasn’t a gallon. I don’t even think I finished the bottle of whiskey.”

“Oh, that’s better. Jim, if this is some ploy to get me to—“

He squeezed her hand, essentially stopping her argumentative speech, and he forced his eyes open. He could die happy and get rid of this rancid pain in his gut and his skull if he could just see her face one more time.

Susan looked drawn, concerned, and angry. Jim wanted to ask her if there was something bothering her, but at the moment, he wanted to pretend she was just that upset at finding him this ill. “You didn’t answer my calls,” he rasped, each word making his head throb worse. “I bet you didn’t even listen to my voicemails.”

She pressed her lips tightly together, and it made lines appear around her eyes and mouth. “I haven’t answered anyone’s calls or heard anyone’s voicemails. I haven’t felt like having company. Besides, I’ve had other things to tend to lately.”

Her voice was detached, aggravated, and distant. “Talk to me, Susan. Tell me what’s wrong.” He wanted to fix her, whatever was wrong. If that meant she was going to rail at him for his behavior, so be it. That meant she cared, and he deserved the punishment anyway. Then, when she was done, they could erase everything that had come between them, kiss, and make up.

“You really want to hear it? Fine.” She dropped his hand and started pacing the room. “Do you know that my father is almost out of time, is so doped he can barely lift his own head, and hasn’t been cared for? My mom and sister don’t give a shit, and I just had to threaten a lawsuit because he’s got bedsores and hasn’t eaten in days.” She rounded on him and leaned on the side of the bed, getting in his face. “You pulled some stupid crap that got you thrown in jail, and I hate you for that. I’m thrilled you’re out, but I don’t even know whether to believe you’re innocent or that you’ve somehow corrupted the system. And now, you continue your bad boy behavior, drinking yourself into oblivion. It was only luck that you didn’t die overnight and that you have friends who care enough to bring you to the hospital—despite the fact that they’re covered with your nasty, rank, spoiled whiskey vomit. Oh, and I screwed up my elbow and shoulder scrubbing my sink this morning, just to piss me off even further. Are you satisfied?”

Jim watched her, feeling her pain and wanting to take it away. The only thing he could think to do was lift a hand, brush the back of his hand over her cheeks, and say, “I’m sorry, Susan.”

She scoffed. “You’re sorry. I’m standing here, staring at a miracle because, based on your blood alcohol content when you came in here, you should be dead. Do you comprehend that, Jim? Do you really understand what that means? You’re not a cat, and you don’t have nine lives. I don’t think you’re a Buddhist or Hindu, either; so, you likely won’t get reincarnated. If you did, your karma would warrant you coming back as a flea that gets under the skin and irritates to the point of madness.”

He shifted with a grunt, so he could grin right into her beautiful puppy dog eyes. “I could still die. Would you miss me?”

He watched her rage hit the point of explosion, her face turning purple and her entire body shaking, and then it blew out of her, the lines and worry returning to her face. Jim was actually taken off-guard when she leaned in and kissed him, hard and meaningfully. She pulled back quickly and gave him a warning look. “I don’t want you involved in any further self-destructive behavior. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Mother,” he quipped, watching her with delight and finding his body finally responding to something for the first time in days. “So, was that our kiss and make up?”

She scowled at him. “Do you really think it’s that easy? You made a public spectacle of yourself, and I’m already fighting to get the respect I deserve in the medical community. Now, you’re here, like someone who has to be put on 48-hour suicide watch, and anyone who’s seen us together is going to have some snarky comment.”

She covered her face with her hands, and Jim’s smile faded. His body hurt like he’d been trampled by a pack of scared elephants on the run, but that pain wasn’t as deep as the pain that hit him at her humiliation. He reached out and took one of Susan’s wrists, pulling her hand from her face and to his mouth. He kissed her palm and said, “I’m truly sorry, Susan. I love you.”

Her hand relaxed in his, and suddenly, she laid her head on his chest. He rested his chin on her hair, smelling the sweet scent of her shampoo and laying his hand on her back, rubbing up and down in soothing motions. She was so warm, and despite the strong front she showed people, she was soft and vulnerable. If he wasn’t careful, he would break her, emotionally and mentally if not physically.

“Hey, I’m here, and I’m alright, and I’m not going to pull a stupid stunt like this again.” He kissed the top of her head, and tentatively, he said, “I saw your father.”

She nodded against him. “I know. He told me.” Her voice was thick with unshed tears. “The man you see in that room, though…that’s not my father. It’s an empty shell that pretends to be the man who raised me.” She lifted her head, and Jim saw the first streaks on her face. “I saw him four days ago, Jim, and since then, he’s lost another ten or fifteen pounds. He’s got bedsores, and he can’t even lift his own water to his mouth. I’m losing him, and I’ve wasted so much time hating him. I’m not ready to say goodbye.”

Jim’s heart cried, and he pushed himself to sit up. “Come on,” he said, moving Susan aside so he could swing his legs over the edge of the narrow cot.

“What are you doing?”

“Well, I’m not doing anything because I can’t. I’m hooked up to an IV that’s pouring in faster than I can pour it out, and it’s making every inch of my body swell—from my toes and fingers to my balls. Plus, every time I move, another stake gets driven through my head, and my stomach feels like someone tore a hole right through my navel and poured cyanide in.” He stood, catching himself with a hand on the tree holding the bags of fluid until he steadied himself. “But
we
are going to see your father.”

Susan shook her head. “No way, Jim. You’re in no condition to walk these halls, and if you think I’m going to take the heat for you acting like a fool, you’re wrong.”

“Not a chance. I’ll tell anyone who reams me that I kidnapped you and forced you at gun point.”

“Right…because you can bring a gun into a hospital.”

He smirked. “You kiss me like that again, and my cock sticking out will be close enough.” Her cheeks went red again, and he chuckled, despite the agony it caused him.

Cocking her head and putting her hands on her hips, Susan gestured at him with her head. “I seem to remember you aren’t particularly fond of walking down the halls with your ass hanging out.”

Jim looked down and cursed. “Why the hell do they have to strip me down to pump salt water into my veins? Where are my damn clothes?” He searched the room and found his jeans folded on a chair, but his shirt was nowhere to be seen. Gritting his teeth, he said, “I’m assuming that sealed bag over there is my shirt, covered with upchuck.”

“Probably.” Susan’s amusement rankled him, but he let it go.

With an irritated sound, he yanked his pants off the chair and pulled them on his body. “I guess this is going to have to be good enough.” He considered putting on the fresh pair of hospital socks he saw on the rolling table, but he decided he’d rather be barefoot than walk around in those stupid things. “Come on, let’s go see your father.”