Marked for Death Page 4

  After facing off with the estranged man, Ryder could tell that his open honesty affected her, softening her to his request.

  “Look, doll, you were amazing. How often do you get the chance to match wits with a killer while a man’s life hangs in the balance?”

  Ignoring his attempt at humor, she replied thoughtfully, “Fine, Ryder. This is my last day at this job, so I’ll take a chance for you. Updating your information in our database shouldn’t be too difficult, since we have identity issues with our patients off and on. If I don’t modify that information, they might give him information on you if they think he’s family.

  “Him coming here again is too much of a risk for you and the other patients we’re treating, so it’s a lesser of two evils kind of choice for me. In fact, we might be able to stash you in one of the empty offices in the back for the night, then on the off chance that he comes barreling back in here, he won’t find you lying helpless on your back.”

  Grabbing her by the arm, he whispered, “You’re a woman after my own heart.”

  Ignoring his gentle flirting, she placed a warm hand on his chest and eased him back again. “I’ll be back when things calm down, gorgeous. In an hour or so, it’ll be a ghost town out there. You’ll likely be transferred to another hospital in the morning. They won’t want to discharge you in your condition.”

  “I need my…personal effects.”

  Turning her sharp gaze on him, she quipped humorlessly, “I saw your personal effects, Ryder. I’m betting you’d be happy if I just brought your wallet and gun, right?”

  “Don’t look at me like that, Tiff. I got a killer on my tail. Of fuckin’ course I want my one and only weapon.”

  Sighing, she folded her arms across her chest. “I don’t see how that’s going to happen. The social workers log it and lock it upon arrival. I don’t even have access to it."

  “I can’t protect us without a weapon. Can you bring me one in somehow?”

  Her eyes got huge. “Are you seriously asking me to bring you a weapon? No, absolutely not. I don’t mind helping you stay alive, but I’m not going to end up in an orange jumpsuit over bringing a perfect stranger a weapon.”

  “So, you think I’m perfect?”

  Her eyes widened. “What? No. That was a figure of speech.”

  Ryder smirked. “You already called me gorgeous. I think you do like the look of me.”

  She glared back at him. “Don’t even think of trying to sweet talk me into breaking the law. I won’t do it. Not for you or any other hot guy.”

  “So, now I’ve stepped up to hot?” For some godforsaken reason, he couldn’t stop himself from flirting with the adorably innocent nurse. Now was so not the time, but Junior was raring to go.

  Rolling her eyes, she folded her arms over her chest. “Sure, you’re hot. Are you happy now?”

  “Come, sit on Daddy’s lap.” Where the fuck did that come from? Ryder realized in that moment that his dick was doing all the talking.

  “You’re freaking unbelievable. You don’t have time for shit like that. You’re a walking dead man, remember? Get your head together.” The woman’s face was flaming red. Whether it was from true anger or embarrassment, he couldn’t tell, but it was fucking sexy as hell.

  Her harsh words felt like getting doused with cold water.

  “Whatever you say, Nurse Stone.” He heard his tone of voice change as he edged into asshole mode again. Something about being brought up short by the hot nurse seriously aggravated him. She was all kinds of right about how this wasn’t the time or place, but it still pissed him off.

  There would never be an appropriate time for a woman like her to sit on his lap. This was a fact he was all too aware of, and it had him feeling some kind of way.

  ~ Tiffany ~

  Tiffany stalked to the nurse’s station and slammed his chart down on the counter, still angry about the big man’s flippant comment. Why did all hot guys think nurses were bimbos? She got enough of that shit from the doctors and interns. She didn’t need to hear it from the hottest guy she’d ever met.

  It rubbed her the wrong way that she’d just saved the asshole’s life and yet, he still considered her as some type of one-dimensional stereotype. Why exactly did she have to have a thing for handsome, dominant men? It always ended up getting her into trouble.

  Punching violently on the computer keyboard, she pulled up his file. Ryder Staunton was quickly changed to a John Doe. Erasing all the other information, she hit save. Identity mix-ups happened occasionally. Someone grabbed the wrong wallet and boom, everything was off. Making such corrections never drew much notice.

  Pulling a clean chart, she completed it with his medical information. What the hell was she doing? Forging patient information could not only get her fired but her nursing license pulled. Just the thought of not being a nurse was enough to send her spiraling headlong into a mini panic attack. Freezing, she forced herself to calm the hell down. Tonight was her last night at this place, so there was very little risk for her at this point.

  The bottom line was, she just couldn’t bring herself to risk the big biker’s life. She’d be a piss poor nurse and lacking in human decency if she wasn’t willing to risk it all to save a man’s life. The fact that he was an attractive and interesting man was just a bonus. Why the hell was she so fascinated with him anyway?

  Chewing her bottom lip, she turned the situation over in her mind. Maybe she wasn’t interested in him as a man. The nurse in her just wanted him to survive the night. Determining that was indeed the case, she snapped the chart shut and headed back to his bay.

  “Well, Mr. Ryder Staunton is now officially a John Doe.”

  Ryder jerked his chin in her direction. “Thanks a fuckin’ lot, doll. With any luck, I might just live to see the light of day.”

  “You’ll survive. I’ll see to it.” The determination in her own voice surprised her. It must have taken him by surprise as well, because his eyes came up, searching her face.

  “Why did you say you were risking your life to save me again?”

  “That seems to be the question of the day.” Smiling wryly, she answered defensively, “I work in a hospital. It’s what I do. It’s nothing special to do with you.” She was certain her toughened-up voice didn’t mark her words for the lies they were.

  The man’s jaw tightened. “I’m hearing what you’re laying down. Ain’t nobody ever thought I was anything special, so I fully understand.”

  Tiffany’s mouth fell open, and she wanted to contradict his inaccurate and self-deprecating comment. However, at that moment, one of the physicians walked in.

  “How are you feeling, sir?” The doctor was on automatic pilot, speaking before he even looked at Ryder’s chart.

  “Not so good, doc. My head’s all fuzzy. Can’t seem to remember anything.”

  Grabbing the chart, the doctor performed a cursory evaluation, his response short and clinical. “You were hit by a vehicle. A moderate to severe concussion can lead to short-term memory loss. Chances are it will come back, with the exception of the memories surrounding the accident itself. It’s not unusual to lose those memories permanently. Do you need something for pain?”

  “Hell, the fuck no. I ain’t interested in taking nothin’ to screw my head up even more.”

  “If you change your mind, let us know. The pain might become quite severe.”

  Tiffany was getting annoyed with the physician. He didn’t have the courtesy to even look at Ryder when he was talking to him. One glance at him on the way into the bay communicated he was a biker, and that was all the narcissistic doctor needed to dismiss him as a person. What’s more, she could see how it embarrassed Ryder to be marginalized, especially in front of her.

  “I’ll survive a little pain. Drug addiction, not so much.”

  Tiffany quickly interjected. “I’ll keep a close eye on him, Dr. Cole. If the pain gets above eight, I’ll let you know.”

  The clean-cut young doctor’s eyes landed on her and h
e responded warmly. “I know that you will, Miss Tiffany. You are one of the best nurses we have at St. Mary’s.”

  Feeling her face flame red, she turned and began organizing supplies in a side cabinet. “Thanks, Dr. Cole.” Tiffany had forced the words from her mouth, not liking the way he treated her and Ryder differently.

  Come to think of it, the majority of the doctors were total asshats at St. Mary’s. She knew what his drill was. Dr. Cole had asked her out a couple of times already. Now she knew why her gut had been telling her to hold back.

  Sitting outside Ryder’s bay until everything died down, she brainstormed ideas of where she could stash him for the rest of the night. An idea came to mind, and it was perfect. Slipping into his small bay, she murmured, “It’s pretty quiet out there. We should get you moved.”

  Wrapping his arm around her neck, she helped him slip out of the back of the bay and down a quiet hallway.

  “Where are we going, doll?”

  “I was going to stash you in an office, but I thought of an even better idea. I’m going to put you in Duncan’s lab.”

  “Who the hell is Duncan?”

  “He’s a friend of mine. He’s got a grant to study TB and stuff like that.”

  By that time, they were in front of his lab. Using her name badge, she swiped the door open. Thank God it was a small hospital. No one cared much about security unless something bad happened.

  “Shit, is it safe in here?”

  “Sure. Just don’t touch anything, and whatever you do, don’t eat anything out of the mini-fridge.”

  “Like I would.” His lip curled in mock disgust as he spoke.

  “Here, I brought you a package of scrubs. You need to wear them along with the paper cap. Anyone walking by will think you are just pulling an extra shift.”

  “Fuckin’ great. Are these even going fit my fat ass?”

  Leaning back, she glanced at his rear. “Oh, quit your whining. Your ass doesn’t have an ounce of fat on it, by the way.”

  “Great, now you’re developing a sense of humor. This night just keeps gettin’ better and better.”

  “I almost forgot. If anyone looks like they’re going to come in, make this gesture.” She held up her hand, palm out.

  “And why would I do that?”

  Pursing her lips, she answered reluctantly. “It’s American Sign Language for stop. It’s our signal that we’re handling samples containing dangerous contagions. You know, like active tuberculosis and flesh-eating bacteria.”

  “You’re pulling my leg, right?” He stopped mid-step, pulling open the plastic pouch of scrubs. She tried not to look at his taut, naked ass as he jerked up his hospital gown.

  “Of course not. It’s all part of what Duncan studies.”

  He went back to dressing, grumbling under his breath, “Fucking crazy-ass doctors. Can’t believe you folks use a freakin’ hand gesture for something that dangerous. You folks are fuckin’ unbelievable.”

  Tiffany cringed slightly. For all his lack of education, the big biker was absolutely right about procedures being pretty lax at St. Mary’s.

  Feeling the need to justify herself, she interjected, “There is a written protocol, but you know how people are.”

  “Yeah, well, this ain’t the place to be cuttin’ corners. Fuck, can you help me get this shirt on?”

  She rushed over to him and helped him pull it out of the plastic. “At least you got your fat ass covered all on your own.” She smiled, hoping some gentle teasing would put him in a better mood.

  “Keep talkin’ about my ass, princess, and I’ll start checkin’ out yours again.”

  Lifting the shirt up as he bent down, she replied jokingly, “You wouldn’t be the first.”

  “I noticed that. Got something going on with that asshole of a doctor?”

  Helping him work his injured arm into the sleeve, she was careful not to hurt him more. “Not that’s it any of your business, but no. I’m not seeing him or anyone else here.”

  “Not even the glorious Duncan?”

  Laughing softly, she tried to imagine Duncan being interested in her. “Actually, you’re more Duncan’s type.”

  “That ain’t never gonna happen, doll. I only like the ladies.”

  “Well, I’m sure they all flock to you, big guy.”

  “I’ve got your big guy right here,” he said with a flex of his hips. “Wanna shake his hand?”

  Swatting at him playfully, she eased the shirt the rest of the way over his head. “Be good for a few minutes and you might survive the night.”

  Looking up, her eyes collided with his heated gaze. Smoothing the shirt down his chest, she realized her hands were lingering a little too long.

  “Keep touching me like that, and the wood I’m sportin’ is going to have your name written all over it.”

  Without meaning to, her eyes traveled down, landing on his huge bulge. Oh my. How could he be turned on when he was running for his life?

  “Christ on a cracker, what’s wrong with you?”

  Hooking his arm around her waist, he pulled her flush with his body and murmured, “You’re the only thing right in my world at the moment. Ever thought of stealing a moment in time, just for yourself?”

  His eyes were filled with heat and his voice was laced with desire. Frowning, she tried to make sense of his words.

  “I live a dangerous and unpredictable life,” he explained with a fierce edge. “Sometimes, when I see something I want, I just grab it. Even if I only have it for a moment, it can live in my memory instead of my imagination.”

  Absently rubbing her hand up and down his muscular chest, she responded with a whisper, “That makes more sense than a lot of things I’ve heard.”

  “I like the way your hands feel on me. I know I ain’t nothin’, but sometimes a man needs a taste of heaven.”

  Looking up at his gorgeous, scarred face, she could see him moving closer. Her eyes drifted down to his lips, and before she could think of what to say, he was kissing her.

  If she thought he was going to be rough and demanding, she couldn’t have been more wrong. His lips ghosted over hers, teasing and pulling her into his thrall.

  Suddenly, her hands slid through his hair. His mouth became more demanding, his tongue swiping across the seam of her mouth. He was begging for entrance, and she wanted more than anything to give it.

  Instead, she pulled back, forcing distance between them as she struggled to pull herself together. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me. I shouldn’t have—”

  “Don’t fuckin’ apologize for the best moment of my entire life. Just fuckin’ don’t bother,” he snapped.

  Turning his back to her, she took the opportunity to beat a hasty retreat. Quickly twisting the blinds shut to conceal his presence, she gently shut the door behind her. Walking back to her station, the reality of her entire situation set in.

  She hadn’t known him long, but it was easy to figure him out. The man who thought he wasn’t worth anything was everything she’d ever dreamed of having in a man. Running around in leather and doing God only knew what didn’t mitigate the fact that he was intelligent, insightful, funny, passionate, and breathtakingly dominant. A woman would have to be comatose not to see how he easily cut through all the crap and got straight to the point. After everything he’d been through, it was a testament to his strength.

  Tiffany liked his suggestion about stealing a moment just for herself a little too much. Regardless of the positive spin she normally put on her life in order to make it bearable, the truth of the matter was things had been pretty damn rough.

  Moving three times inside five years, struggling to get in a semester before he caught up with her, and the stress of never knowing when he was going to show up or how long he was going to toy with her before he showed himself was really taking a toll on her.

  She desperately needed just one moment of the intimacy she craved to get along. That Ryder had the same feelings was like a sign from God. He was
right about it being something to hold onto to get through the long, sleepless nights. Maybe she should just loosen up and grab her one moment of happiness before things went to shit again.

  ~ Ryder ~

  It was just his fuckin’ luck to have the hots for a woman who clearly wanted no part of his irresponsible ass. Didn’t know why he tried to kiss her, knowing she’d never see him as anything more than a dirty biker. Nice women always had their preconceived ideas about his kind.

  Ryder was so sick of his life always being filled to capacity with the wrong kind of women. The club whores were all the same. Each had some sad story to tell, and none of them were quite right in the head. They weren’t the kind of women a man could settle down with and trust his heart to or trust to raise his kids. His club brothers had learned that the hard way. Even the club president had been burned, coming home to find his woman in bed with the mailman. Who in their right mind fucked their mailman?

  Shit, he was almost as pathetic, having the hots for his new nurse. He needed to stop thinking of her as a possibility and get his head screwed on straight. She worked at the hospital to fuckin’ help people, not to be taken advantage of by her patients.

  The pretty brunette was destined for the arms of a nice doctor or lawyer, not an ignorant biker. Ryder had saved every cent he’d ever made to afford a home and family. It was one of the reasons the club whores chased his ass so diligently.

  He’d held out, waiting to find someone special. Ryder was the kind of man who understood that, when it came to women, half the battle was knowing what you wanted in a life partner. He wanted someone sweet, strong, and classy. The rest was a combination of preparing for the life he dreamed about, recognizing when a woman had the right stuff and then engaging with her enough to be sure she was the one.

  He had enough in the bank to buy a nice house and fill it with all the things a woman needed to live a comfortable life. Unlike the majority of his club brothers, he was sick and tired of sleeping with tramps and groupies. If he was ever lucky enough to land a wife, he’d make it a point to treat her right.