JAX: MC Biker Romance (New Adult Contemporary Bad Boy Romance) (14 page)

"No way!" he burst out laughing. "Of all the girls I gotta meet tonight, I end up with a biker," he couldn’t contain his amusement. "That's mine right there," he pointed to a few rows over where his was.

"Very nice," Marie nodded in approval, as she pulled on her helmet. "But, I gotta go now. It's been nice. You're a pretty fun drinking partner."

"Do I get to see you again?" David found himself saying rather out of character.

"Hmmmm.... Perhaps," but she made no attempt to give him her phone number.

However, she didn't want the night to end just yet and she leaned up for a second and kissed him passionately. Then, as though nothing had happened, she revved her engine and sped away, waving a peace sign with her fingers as she left.

"That is some woman," David exhaled slowly and watched his breath gather in the air.

He climbed on his own bike and sat for a long while just appreciating the quiet of the night. Every now and again, another drunken reveler would walk past him and he'd nod and say hello. Then he'd look back to the stars and feel a deep sense of sorrow swarming inside of him. What he wouldn't do to turn back time.

As the sun came up, he looked across the landscape and saw the morning glow spread across the horizon. He was starting to sober up and his head was beginning to pound. He rubbed at his bleary eyes and suddenly had a craving for the strongest coffee he could get his hands on. Then, he thought about the therapy session he had booked the next day and he grimaced.

“Urgh…. better be on my way,” he muttered under his breath before making his way home.

*****

When David woke up, his head was thumping with a hangover and he felt as though he couldn't raise his head from his pillow. He opened one eye tentatively and looked for the clock. It was quarter past eight and he'd only had two hours sleep.

"Urgh.... My God," he grunted, as he tried to sit up.

He had to be at the therapist's office in forty five minutes and there wasn't anywhere he wanted to be less. What could some damn shrink help him with anyway? They weren't with him when his friends got shot. They had no idea what it was like to survive a tour of Afghanistan. He got increasingly angry, as he showered and got dressed. He imagined the meek and old fashioned psychiatrist sitting in his leather chair wearing a gray cardigan and maroon loafers. Despite the fact that David had never met him, he hated him already and he wasn't going to make any special effort to turn up on time.

After a quick breakfast and an extra strong coffee, he climbed on his bike and headed back to base. He felt strange at first, entering the premises without a uniform. It made him feel less than worthy of being there, as if he was just a civilian or worse, a lunatic who was being psychoanalyzed in a mad house. But orders were orders and whatever Officer Brady said, went.

Yet, that couldn't stop the grumbling in his mind, as he stepped into the mental health facility and took a seat in the waiting room.

"God damn shrinks, what do they know about anything?" he picked up a magazine off the coffee table and flicked through it without reading a single page.

He was lost in thought and sunk into his own anger, as he remembered his meeting with the officer yesterday. He couldn't believe he'd been signed off. It was an embarrassment, pure and utter humiliation to watch his peers return to training while he had to sit in this pristine, white facility.

As he flicked through the magazine yet again, without paying attention, he was so lost in his thoughts that when his name was called, he didn't notice.

"I said David Axel?" the receptionist was leaning over the counter with an expectant look on her face.

"Oh! Yeah, sorry. That's me," he jumped up and approached her.

"If you'll just head down that corridor there," she pointed with her pen. "And go in the third door on the left."

"Thanks," David mumbled. "Third door on the left, got it."

His stomach was churning, as he approached. Now that he was here and this was really happening, he wanted out. Of course, it didn't help that the hangover was making him sick to his stomach. As always, he regretted drinking so much and he winced at the thought of chugging down that bottle of bourbon. His hangovers were getting worse too and he knew that, at some point, he'd have to cut down or worse, quit. However, right now he was fine with drinking himself into oblivion, anything to stop the pain for a little while.

The door to the psychiatrist’s office seemed to appear in front of him sooner than he liked. He hesitated for a long while and looked to his watch. He was only ten minutes late, but maybe they thought he was a no show already and had given up on him. Or maybe, he could just leave right now and he could go back to bed and nurse his chronic migraine.

While he was busy contemplating what to do, he realized it was too late. The door knob began to rattle in front of him and he had nowhere to turn. Then, the door opened and he got the shock of his life. He took a step back, frowned as if he was seeing things, and let his jaw fall slack.

"Marie?" he gasped.

"David?"

"Holy shit," he burst out laughing. "Well, I did ask if I could see you again."

"You better come in," she blushed. "It's such a small world we live in."

Entering her office, he took a seat in front of her desk and felt conflicted. On one hand, he was pleased to see the woman from the night before, ecstatic even to see her strong, perfect figure and beautiful face, but he was also humiliated because now she knew he was crazy.

"I'll be honest. I didn't want to come here," he looked down to his shoes.

"That's ok," she leaned forward and patted his hand. "Most people are apprehensive about reaching out for help, especially in the military. It makes them feel emasculated almost or they think it makes them weak. But, that's not the case, you know that, don't you David?"

He said nothing and just continued to keep his head down.

“I didn’t want to come here for therapy, but….. maybe you’re changing my mind.”

*****

Dr Marie McAvoy loved her job, but as she sat at her desk with a hangover, she wished she was in bed. Or rather, she wished she was in bed with the young man across from her. When she opened the door and saw the handsome Navy SEAL from the night before, she could barely hide the look of excitement on her face. However, she tried her best to stay professional despite the fact her stomach was throwing somersaults.

"I'm glad I've changed your mind David. I think it's vital that sufferers of PTSD get the help they need, as early on as possible."

"PTSD? Who says I have that?"

"David," she reached out to touch his hand again.

He gripped it hard, tangling his fingers in hers and looking into her icy blue eyes.

"Listen," she continued. "I've read your case files, I know what you witnessed. It would be most unusual if you weren't affected in a terrible way."

"Well, what can I say?" he pulled his hand away and relaxed back in his chair in his usual aloof manner. "I'm an unusual guy."

Marie didn't know what to say, she wanted to help this man, in more ways than one, but he was obviously in denial.

"So..." she tried to resume the session, "I'm just going to ask you a few questions to get us started. Think of this as an assessment of your needs."

"Oh yeah, you can assess my needs all you want," he winked and relaxed even further back in his chair, spreading his legs to reveal the bulge inside his pants.

It made Marie breathless and she gulped down some water from a nearby bottle.

"Erm.. So let's get to it, shall we?" she blushed, as she couldn't take her eyes off his crotch. "So.... can you tell me what your sleeping pattern is like?"

"Oh you know... I sleep with one, maybe two girls a week," he looked her up and down with his eyes lingering on her breasts. "But, I'm always happy to sleep more regularly," he grinned a wide and cheeky smile.

"Can you answer the question seriously please?" she tried to feign authority, although she was growing hot between her legs.

"Ah! Where's the fun in that?" he flung his arms up in the air.

"Just, please. Answer the question."

"Fine, I sleep fine," he answered grumpily, annoyed that she wasn't indulging his flirting.

"Fine? What does that mean exactly?"

"It means... I dunno.... Why do you even care?" his tone changed dramatically, as he got angry at the question.

He didn't want to admit that he never slept unless he'd drank a half bottle of whisky, but it was none of anyone's business anyway.

"Ok, let's move onto the next question, shall we?"

"Sure."

"Are you self-medicating in any way?"

"Self-medicating? Is that like self-loving?" he reverted back to his dirty way of thinking.

"Look please, this is my job and I take it seriously, can you just do the same?"

"Hey! I thought we were having some fun there?"

"You're not here for fun. If I remember correctly, you're here to get well and recover from your last tour."

"Look lady. I'm not into all this head shrinking stuff and you have no idea what happened on my last tour. Not to mention I don't need to recover from shit."

"David," she tried to reach out to pat him on the arm, but he shrugged her off and pulled away. "Please, I can see you're harboring some difficult thoughts, but they're not going to go away if you don't let me in."

"Oh.... How about you let me in, eh?"

"I give up," Marie flung her hands up in the air and slumped back in her seat.

She wanted to help him and all the signs of trauma were there, but he needed to see it too. And there was something else too.... she'd treated hundreds of male patients and so many of them had come onto her, but this guy... there was something about the twinkle in his eyes that made her melt. That's why she said something she knew she'd shouldn't.

"Look, if it's easier I can meet you someplace else. Like maybe you could come over to mine?" She wasn't sure what she was thinking.

Sure she genuinely wanted to help him, but if things developed then...

"Really?" he leaned forward, suddenly interested once again.

"Yes, but... it's strictly professional," she tried to convince herself more than David.

"Strictly professional," he winked. "Well, ok then, that suits me."

"Here, take this and meet me at eight tomorrow night," she scribbled down her address and pushed it across the desk.

"I wouldn't miss it for the world," he stood up to leave.

Marie couldn't keep her eyes off him, as he walked away from her, couldn't stop staring at the way his broad, muscular shoulders burst out his tight, white t-shirt.

"See you soon," she smiled with her head bowed to hide her crimson cheeks.

"I'll be looking forward to it," and he left happy.

Marie clapped her hands to her face and felt the hot, redness that was emanating from her skin.

"Jesus," she grabbed the water bottle and gulped it down thirstily. "What am I doing?"

She wriggled in her seat to shake the feeling of arousal and pulled David's case file from the desk. Taking one last flick through it, she bundled it into her bag to take home, and then readied herself for her next patient.

*****

David was grinning like an excited puppy, as he left the clinic. He was used to garnering women's attention, but there was something about the doctor that had him more excited than usual. She was so beautiful and caring, yet tough and intelligent. Not to mention she rode a Harley too! She was the perfect storm and he couldn't get her out of his head.

"Oh God," he groaned to himself, as he searched for his motorcycle in the parking lot. "Don't get too attached," he told himself. "Always play the field," and he straddled his Harley thinking it was the closest thing to love he'd ever known.

As he left the base, he needed to let off some steam and he raced to the nearby shooting range, a place he'd frequented more and more since he returned home. Firing each bullet felt like he was exorcising a demon and he felt the relief come over him in waves, as he fired perfectly into each target.

The hours passed quickly and the day passed in a haze. He looked to his watch and knew he'd have to go home at some point. The range was nearing closing time and people were starting to pack up and leave.

One more round,
he thought to himself, and narrowed his eyes to concentrate. He shot six bullets into a perfect diameter only an inch across, then relaxed back satisfied and admired his work.

"Nice," he pulled off the ear defenders and smirked.

The lights began to get switched off in the surrounding booths, and he realized he was the last person in the range. One last look on his watch and he saw the night was young. He was still tired and hungover from the night before, but he couldn’t face going home alone to a quiet night and the endless silence. That's when the bad thoughts came and the memories that clung to his mind and gnawed at his stomach. It looked as though he'd be taking a long ride.