Bound to the Biker King

4

ZANE

She needed to know that helping her would cost her. By a lot too.

I leaned my forearms on my knees, staring at the woman in the hospital bed. She was tired, her dark eyes swollen from tears, her face pale under the harsh lights of the hospital. The IV drip in her arm made her look even more vulnerable, but I knew that there was a fire in her, one which was concealed behind the bruises and brokenness. A woman burned but still determined to scorch the world to ashes.

Good. She was going to need it.

"You do know this isn't my area, don't you?" I said to her, voice forced into restraint. "Divorce cases? Not really my turf."

Her eyes flickered at me, searching for the trap. She was intelligent. She knew there would be one.

"Okay and?" she said, folding her arms.

"And,” I sat back in the chair, "If you require my assistance, it will cost you." My lips tugged into my signature smile. One that was nowhere close to being innocent.

And then I saw it. The hesitation. The flash of weakness in her eyes. She had nothing, no longer. Her s**t head of a husband and her betrayer of a sister had taken it all away from her—her home, her art, even her name. I knew before she opened her mouth that she didn't have two pennies to rub together. And selfishly, I wanted to take advantage of her for it.

Her lips pressed into a thin line. "I don't have a penny to my name. Just forget it. Thank you though…" she muttered, shaking her head. "I’ll find another way to get back at Garrett and my sister."

She tried to sound resolute, but there was doubt there, buried under the anger.

My chest tightened. My chance was slipping.

I didn't see why it was important. This woman was just another stranger, another broken woman passing through my life. I had no right to get involved, but for some bizarre reason, I couldn't let her pass. I gritted my teeth, berating myself in my mind. What the f**k is wrong with you, Zane?

"You don't have to owe me money in cash," I treated myself before I could choke back the words. Even I knew that sounded pathetic, almost desperate. "You can do something else for me."

As soon as I spoke, I realized how suggestive it f*****g sounded.

She took a step back, eyes going slightly wide, mouth hanging open in outrage.

Shit.

I clenched up, face cooling as I hid my faux pas behind it. "That's not what I'm saying," I growled. "You don't have to worry. You're not my type."

She let out a scoff, shaking her head in disbelief. "I wasn’t even thinking that."

I clenched my teeth, experiencing a burst of annoyance, but I didn't know if it was at her or me.

I ought to have left her be. I ought to have turned around and left this woman and her issues behind. But my mind would not allow it. My eyes continued to scan her face, my thoughts racing for some kind of solution to a question I had been thinking but never spoken.

Why the f**k does she resemble that girl so much?

Same dark, piercing eyes. Same guarded strength, dangerously holding together behind a veil of suffering. But it wasn't just the resemblance—it was how she gazed at me, as if she could see something in me that I didn't wish other people to see.

I forced my expression to stay cold. This had nothing to do with the past.

She squared her shoulders, as though shaking off whatever sense of weakness had been accumulating in her. "Just tell me what it is that you want me to do."

I smirked faintly, she was worked up. Excellent, that made things easier.

"You'll find out soon enough," I said, tilting my head slightly. "But only if you're divorced."

Her lips pressed back into a thin line, her body tensing as if bracing as if to take a blow. "It's not something illegal is it?"

That made me grin, a low chuckle slipping out before I could catch it. Her suspicion was funny—most people jumped to conclusions about me, and they were often correct.

"Believe me, even if it were," I replied in a louder tone, moving closer to her, "I don't think you'd be a match for it."

She glared, and for a moment I thought she might actually hit me. Her eyes flashed with fire so strongly that I almost grinned. Almost.

"So no," I finished.

Tessa blew out a rough breath, obviously annoyed, but she didn't say anything.

I took hold of my helmet, wrenching it down over my head as I stepped back. "Get some rest," I told her, voice firm. "I'll be back tomorrow with the papers."

She didn't say a word as I turned and strode out of the room, but I could feel her gaze following me all the way out.

After stepping out into the crisp night air, my fists clenched on my helmet a little too tightly, "What the hell am I doing?"

I scrolled through my contact list and clicked on the call button. The phone did not ring twice before it was answered on the other end in a sleepy tone.

"Any idea what time it is?" Samuel's voice was heavy with annoyance.

I didn't have time for his complaining. "Take this one off the list of many favors you owe me," I spoke smoothly, my voice low as I leaned against the wall.

A sigh crackled through the phone. "What do you want now?" He knew better than to reject.

"I want divorce papers. Tomorrow morning. I'll be by to pick them up before I go to work."

There was quiet. Then a harsh laugh. "You? Divorce papers? Now this I have to hear."

I wasn't in the right mood. "Don't f*****g push it, Sam. Just do it."

Samuel sighed again, but he made no complaint. "You do realize there's a legal process for something like this, don't you? You can't just—"

I hung up before he finished.

Placing my phone in my pocket, I shook my head and muttered to myself, "Just this once, mother. And if she fails me, I'm done trying to be good."

Too late to back out now.

I was up and dressed before dawn, zipping up my leather jacket as my phone beeped on the nightstand. I did not have to look at the screen to know that it was Father.

I glared at the name appearing on my phone, my jaw clenched as clear memories of last night's argument popped up in my mind—the yelling, the blaming, the choking sense of responsibility I had never volunteered for. The man never called to make plans for anything except to inform me of how much of a failure I was. Answering would ruin my day, and I had no desire to take that with me for the rest of the day.

I left it unanswered.

I went instead for my car keys and out, the sharp morning air accomplishing little to relieve the tension in my chest. The drive to Samuel's was rather too long, with only the occasional growl of my engine as I sped through the deserted streets. I pulled up outside his apartment and beeped once.

In no time, the door creaked open and Samuel came down the stairs holding a manila folder in hand. He had the look of a man who had just risen from bed—shirts rumpled, hair disheveled, and his face looking haggard with the glare of the man who disliked being bossed around at godly hours.

He pushed the folder towards me before I even had a chance to cut the engine. "Here. Now, am I off the hook?"

I grinned, flipping through the pages so quickly they were a blur before slamming the folder shut and thumping it onto the passenger seat. "Not even close."

Samuel groaned, massaging his eyes. "I swear, Zane, one day you're gonna push your luck with me."

"And yet you always answer when I call."

He grumbled something under his breath that I didn't even try to interpret. I just nodded and changed gears. "Thanks." And I took off, leaving him on his driveway cursing at me.

I now had the papers in my hands. It was time to get her divorced.

When I arrived at her floor, I hadn't anticipated seeing her out of bed, let alone standing at the reception desk, signing what appeared to be discharge papers. The nurse spoke in a low tone, but I heard enough of the exchange to pick up on something that made my steps falter.

Kidney disease. It couldn't be here though, could it?

I gritted my teeth.

I just stood for a second, observing her. She was pale, her face still bearing the weariness of yesterday night, but there was a resolute clench to her lips, as if she was holding herself together by sheer force of will. I should have left. It was not my affair. But the words rang in my head, and before I knew it, I was approaching them.

"What the hell are you doing out of bed?" My voice was curtier than I'd intended.

She swiveled to stare at me, shocked, then quickly covered. "None of your business."

I turned a deaf ear to her and faced the nurse. "What did you just say to her? And what papers are those?"

The nurse looked up hesitantly at the woman before replying cautiously, "It's not anything serious, sir. Only a pre-existing—"

"Cut it out, he doesn't need to know anything." she cut in icily, her eyes slitting as she drew the papers to her breast as if I was going to tear them up.

I was tempted to do so calmly. Instead, I moved closer, speaking softly. "Kidney disease, huh? And you were casually not going tell me?"

She set her shoulders. "Because, like she said, it's nothing serious..."

Since when was a kidney disease not a serious one? In one quick movement, I pulled the papers from her hands.

"Hey!" she shouted, trying to grab them back, but I held them away from her, reading what was written. My stomach knotted at the confirmation.

She had the disease.

She was ill.

"Give it back here!" she grumbled, her tone tight.

I caught her eye, defiant. "You were going to leave here without mentioning you had a medical condition? You don't think that would make a difference?"

She exhaled a harsh breath. "It doesn't matter to you. You've done enough. I'll take care of the rest."

"Like hell you will." I faced the nurse. "She's not leaving here wearing that." I motioned toward the spindly hospital gown clinging to her body. "I don't care how you get it, but find her something other than that to wear. I'll go settle the bill."

The nurse wavered between me and turned and walked away down the hallway.

She snarled at me. "You can't just—"

"I can. And I just did."

Her mouth opened, in anger or in shock—I couldn't tell. She was likely counting how much she hated me by now, but I didn't care.

When she was fully dressed, I shoved the papers aside on the counter and turned to her once more.

"Let's get you divorced, shall we?” If only she knew what was coming next.