Biker's Claim: The Broken Angel is Mine

Chapter 5

Cora POV

The sound of running water brought me back to a sense of awareness. I tried to move and then groaned; the pain in my thigh reminded me of what had happened.

I was stupid and covered a stranger who was injured from being hit by a bullet.

What was I thinking?

Plain stupid, but put in that situation again, I wouldn’t hesitate to cover the patient. It’s what we are taught; we are healers, and sometimes we get hurt. I have had more than one black eye, from a violent drunk or a violent patient who lashes out.

Mind you, the shooter, once he hits the guy, might have turned his sights on me. So it would have been both of us hit, and one or both dead.

I opened my eyes and blinked a few times.

Where am I?

I turned my head to the sound of water and guessed it was a bathroom. I managed to sit up and look around the room. It was a nice-sized bedroom, with a huge window on one wall and a balcony with a table and two chairs, perfect for sitting outside and reading. The bed was jumbo; the room was mainly brown and black. A mat on the floor was from that movie, Ghost Rider.’ A walk-in robe, too, bedside tables, another larger table with a laptop on it, and three chairs. Three, who uses only three chairs? Guess I am traditional, where a table setting has an even number of chairs.

Someone was in the shower, and singing softly, a man, but the sound of his deep baritone voice awoke my neglected lady parts. I got out of bed and wished I had taken more time; my leg screamed out in pain. I was dressed in a large shirt with a club logo that reached my mid-thigh. I lifted the shirt to reveal a thick bandage on my left leg, which was in pain. I still had my panties on. That was a relief.

I hobble to the window and see a car park full of assorted gleaming bikes and other vehicles, and to my relief, I can see my car out there, in one piece. That car held my life; I didn’t want to lose it.

“You're awake.” I turned a little too quickly at the sound of his voice, and grunted in pain, and I put my hands on the bed to steady myself.

“Yes, how's the shoulder? Gunner?” The man was standing there, barefoot, a towel hung low on his hips, the line of hair disappearing below the towel, his chest was covered in blackish-brown hair, muscles on muscles. He was drying his hair with a towel in one hand while holding another in the other. His hair was below his shoulders, also blackish brown. He was one very eye-catching man. I looked at him from head to toe, and back up. Even his legs were strong and muscular. His smile told me he knew what I was doing, but didn’t call me out.

“Scrubs said you did a bang-up job. Doing it straight away, before the swelling could set in, was a good choice.”

“Scrubs?” I frowned at this name.

“Our doctor, his road name is scrubs.”

“I can’t see any other bruises. Turn around so that I can see.” I twirled my finger in a circle, trying to get him to turn, and used the excuse of looking for an injury to get an eyeful at this nice specimen of a man. Shy, I am not, never have been. Another reason is that my stepmother hates me.

Gunner chuckled but did as I asked, turning and looking over his shoulder to watch me look him over.

“A small amount of bruising, after what happened to you, I would have expected more than that. You bounced well.” I was surprised he wasn’t in a worse condition.

He turned back and pointed to some crutches leaning against the wall.

“Use them when I am not around.”

“And when you are around?” I asked innocently.

“Then I will carry you around.” I'm not sure about that.

“Where am I?” I decided it was time to work out how far I was away from my destination.

“You are at our clubhouse, about ten minutes outside of Clearwater. We haven’t removed your things from your car yet. But until you are better, think it best you stay here with me.”

“Oh, do you now. What makes you think I want to stay here?” I put my hands on my hips, hoping to look stern.

“Because you can’t drive, and I am not taking you anywhere, until you can walk around, say two to three weeks, maybe longer.”

“So, I am your captive?” I looked at him incredulously.

“If that’s what you want to call it.” He was smirking; he’s a poop-dribbler.

“Where am I to stay?”

“Here.’ He waved his hand around the room.

“In my room.” Definitely poop.

“Really, then I need the contents of my car, all of it,” I said, hoping that when he sees what’s in the car, he will change his mind.

Gunner pulled out his phone and called someone named ‘Loser,’ instructing him to have the contents of the car brought to his room. I couldn’t believe it; he didn’t know a thing about me.

“What hospital were you headed to?” He asked, as he dropped the towels into a hamper that I hadn’t noticed, and turned, moving into the walk-in robe, naked, eye candy, yup, that’s eye candy, even from the back.

“Lucky I am on holiday, or this would have been a bummer. I will be starting at Clearwater Hospital. I was intending to contact the person in charge of ED tomorrow and get a tour and a feel of the place.” I have the contact information for a woman named Karen, forwarded to me, with the suggestion that I meet the supervisor before I start. Carmel didn’t specify how soon I should contact this Karen.

“Bluey, lovely woman, one of ours, you will meet her tonight at dinner.” He had this smug look on his face, and I wanted to wipe it right off, but I didn’t know how. A knock at the door had Gunner taking three long strides, opening it, and three lads walked in, carrying the contents of my car.

“Put them over there. Is that the lot?” Gunner pointed to a corner of the room.

“No, one more trip. Looks like her whole home was in that car,” Loser, I assumed, replied.

“Cora?” Gunner looked at me in question.

“Yes, I told you, maybe you were in too much pain to hear me at the time. I am starting at the Clearwater hospital.” I didn’t want to give him too much; he was already pushing my boundaries.

I am usually not this open to strangers.

But having just saved his life, I feel responsible for him, in a weird kind of way.

It doesn’t make sense.

I still don’t trust him, or this place is filled with so many men.

Men have shown me they can’t be trusted, look at my dad, or my ex, but then look at my so-called best friend, the only person I can trust is me, and then my judgments have been so bad, maybe I can’t trust me either.

No, don’t spiral down that rabbit hole. I trust Karen; she never lied to me. There, see, I found someone I trust.

Keep it together. Girl.

You got this, own who you are, stay focused on where you are headed.

Don’t let this eye candy take you away from your goals.

I watched as all the contents came into the room, and Gunner didn’t even blink at the amount of stuff I had.

“Find a change of clothes, and I will help you with a shower, or I can give you something of mine.” Gunned pointed to the last bag placed on the bed, my overnight bag, which I had in the front seat, containing the clothes I was changing into each night.

Is he mad?

Something of his?

He’s like six-four, maybe more. No way would his clothes fit me. I rolled my eyes at the thought as I hobbled closer to my bag and unzipped it, pulling out clean clothes. I have another bag full of dirty ones, and I need to get them washed.

The moment I had made the choice, I found myself being swooped up in Gunner’s arms and marched to the bathroom, which was still wet from his shower. He lowered me to stand the best I could and began undressing me.

“Hey, I can do this. Get out.” I tried to push his hands away and lose balance, Gunner grabbing me around the waist to stop me from falling.

“Stop fighting me, you can’t get those stitches wet, woman. I am doing this whether you like it or not. In second thoughts, keep fighting, it’s turning me on.” I looked down and saw what he meant. I froze.