“Easy, babe, don’t try to move right now.” My heart nearly stops within my chest at the sound of that voice. I’d know it anywhere. Doesn’t matter if it were gruffer, more masculine than when we were younger.
Peirce.
“Why can’t I see?” I ask apprehensively.
“Mamma, brought over one of her remedies to help your eyes with any irritation from the fire,” he says.
“Carson?” I ask, now knowing the reason behind why I can’t see. Ela.
“He’s out in the main room with all the ol’ ladies hovering over him,” Peirce says, a hint of amusement in his tone.
“Peirce?” I call his name apprehensively.
“I’m just gonna head out, Pipe knows what to look out for and considering your ol’ lady is a doctor herself, she’ll also know,” a man says from somewhere nearby and I’m surprised as hell Peirce doesn’t correct him for calling me his ol’ lady. He hates me. I might have been at one time. He asked me to be his ol’ lady after he became a full fledge member of the club. Our senior year after he turned eighteen, he’d started prospecting for the Inferno’s Clutch and at the time I couldn’t be more thrilled to wear his property patch when the time came.
“Thanks Doc, I appreciate it,” he says, his thumb rubbing against my wrist.
At the sound of a door closing, I become nervous for some reason. Am I alone with Peirce right now?
Peirce releases my wrist after laying it down gently on the bed then there’s a dip in the bed and right after that he removes what was covering my eyes. “There you go,” he says softly as he pulls back.
Blinking several times, I tilt my head to the side to meet Peirce’s gaze.
“Where am I?”
“My room at the clubhouse,” he rasps, situating himself on the bed next to me with his knee bent and resting there.
Furrowing my brows, I’m confounded by this.
“Why didn’t you just take me to the hospital? Or put me in a different room. I’m sure you don’t need me taking your space from you,” I mumble.
“Didn’t take you to the hospital ‘cause we didn’t want anyone to find out you survived that fire. I wasn’t taking any chance with your life. I didn’t put you in a different room because you’re in here with me where I can keep a close eye on you.” Peirce reaches out, cups the side of my face, and runs a finger gently across my cheek. “You’ve been through a lot of shit. I’m not about to add to that right now, but I’ll just put it to you this way. You’re here in my room, my bed and that’s where you’re going to stay. Once you’ve healed up some and can handle it, we’re having a long fuckin’ talk.”
Um, okay. Now I’m completely baffled by what’s going on with him.
This man hates me and yet he’s claiming to never let me go. Am I to be his prisoner?
“How about we get you up and in the shower? Get you cleaned up,” he suggests, standing up from the bed.
“I can do it myself,” I say, putting my hands to the mattress to push myself up into a sitting position.
“I’m sure you can but you’re not going to.” Leaning down he scoops me into his arms like I were nothing more than a sack of flour.
“Put me down, Peirce,” I snap unsure of why he’s taking care of me.
“I will once I get you in the shower.” He grins.
God. Was he always like this? Never listening to me?
“Peirce,” I start to protest but he stops me.
“Ma raison d’être, you can quit fighting. I’m not giving in. After seeing you laying in the dirt outside a fuckin’ burning building, after first seeing your fuckin’ blood in your house, after reading that God damn letter, I will do whatever I fuckin’ need to, to make sure you are whole. If that means carrying you to the bathroom, helping you get clean, making sure you eat, I’ll do it. Got me?”
Oh. Shit. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him like this. Then again, we’ve both changed a lot over the past twelve years.
Without using my voice, I nod my head in response. I don’t think if I tried to use my voice in that moment it would work.
In the bathroom, Peirce places me on my feet, turns to the shower, and twists the handle to start the water. As he does this, I finally realize, I’m no longer in the clothes I’d been intending to wear to work, instead I was in what I’m guessing is one of his tees.
Shit on a donkey stick.
“I need to call my supervisor,” I murmur.
“No, you don’t. It’s already handled,” Peirce retorts without giving me an explanation.
After checking the water temp, Peirce turns back to me. “Let’s get you undressed,” he murmurs, his eyes sincere.
“I can do it,” I mutter not sure if I want him to see my body.
“Babe, who do you think stripped you of your clothes earlier. I’ve already seen your body. Fuck, Lina, I’ve seen your body on more than one occasion.”
“That was a long time ago. I don’t look the same anymore.”
“It might have been a long time ago, Angelina, but you still have that tattoo on your hip bone you got when Lynch was practicing with his ink gun. Thought you’d have gotten that shit covered. Glad to see you didn’t,” he says with a grin.
Groaning, I close my eyes. Of course, he’d bring up the tattoo on my hip bone. The one which is Peirce’s road name. I didn’t understand it at first but later that night after it was done, he’d explained it to me as we laid in his bed. It meant I was his, always. Which in truth is what I’ve always been, doesn’t matter that he despises me.
Slowly Peirce removes the shirt covering my body. As the material clears my head, I attempt to hide myself from him. He
