Making the Break (Beating the Biker 2)

Then bashed her forehead on the corner of the coffee table.

“Damn!” she swore as the stinging pain stunned her and white stars burst behind her eyelids. She stumbled to the bathroom and examined the damage in the mirror. The right side of her head over her eyebrow turned a brilliant red, and she could tell this was going to leave a nasty black and blue mark.

She jerked open the medicine cabinet and gobbled a couple Tylenol tablets, using a handful of water from the tap to wash them down. She cursed her heritage and circumstances for the mess she was in. Why was she so worried about one goombah? Why did it distress her if he went the way so many Roccos did?

Chrissy brushed bangs over her forehead to hide the bruise and tried to will away the image of the drop-dead sexy biker that popped into her head, but it was no good. She couldn’t stop thinking about his chiseled body, the sexy muscles of his arms, the look on his face when he gazed into her eyes. It was as if she was the most precious thing in the world to him. That look made puddles of her traitorous heart. And those puddles spread and suffused through her body, spreading a delicious warmth as gooey and sticky as a cinnamon roll.

Love.

With a shock she dropped her butt to the toilet, her rear thumping hard on the seat.

Fuck. She was in love with Saks.

How did that happen?

Danger, Will Robinson.

She didn’t need to be in love right now, especially while she was trying to navigate the broken and rocky ground in her career. Plus, she was too young to get serious with anyone, and she certainly shouldn’t be with someone like Saks, who was the wrong man for her.

But if she loved him, how could he be the wrong man?

Chrissy hugged herself, devastatingly confused and gloriously elated at the same time. Now she understood why her sister was so over the moon about that lug Marcus. If Gloria felt half as much as what Chrissy did for Saks, no wonder she was willing to manipulate her family to steer Marcus down the aisle.

She swallowed hard. What an idiot she was walking away from him, especially when he lay in a hospital bed. Chrissy should be at his side. He had saved her from harassment or worse from those bikers at the Red Bull, and she’d thanked him by kneeing him in the balls and dumping her breakfast on him.

Chrissy wouldn’t be surprised if he didn’t want to see her again.

That thought ripped a pain through her unlike anything she’d ever felt. She had made a horrible mess of her life, and the least she owed Saks was an apology. If he threw her out, she would understand. But she had to try.

With fresh resolve, she grabbed her purse off the couch and clattered down the stairs to her car. The hospital wasn’t far and she would be there in fifteen minutes.

As she drove, she tried not think the hollow sensation in the pit of her stomach or the dryness of her mouth. Chrissy was determined to get to Saks, and that was her only thought.

Her heart beat double time as she rode the elevator to Saks’ floor, and harder as she approached his room. But when she peered in, it was empty. She gripped the edge of the door, steadying herself. Chrissy was sure he’d be here. What happened? Was he okay? Or did he take a disastrous turn for the worse?

“Excuse me,” said a nurse’s aide from behind her. “Are you looking for someone?”

“Yes. Saks, I mean Anthony Parks.”

“Parks?” she said. “Oh, yeah, he’s gone.”

“Gone?” Chrissy said, panicked. She was too late! “What do you mean, gone?”

“Oh, honey, don’t have a heart attack. He went home, is all.”

CHAPTER NINETEEN

The scent of the cleaning products his mother used hits Saks’ nose when Hawk, holding Saks up with one arm, opened the door to Saks’ apartment. Sure enough, his home sparkled, courtesy of his mother and sister, he was sure. He was sure he’d never hear the end of how much work they did, but once a Parks woman got hold of a house it would be cleaned and polished so that all surfaces gleamed.

“You,” complained Hawk, “are heavier than you look.”

“It’s all muscle.”

“Yeah. And beer. As I can see from the fridge. Where do you want to park, Parks?”

“Ha, ha, asshole,” said Saks dryly. “Like I’ve never heard that before.”

“Come on, man. Which room?”