Biker's Virgin

“I am, but…”

“Your husband was brought into the hospital an hour ago, and he listed you as his next of kin,” she told me. “Mr. Phil Roberts.”

I blood went cold. “Phil,” I said, in a panic. “What happened?”

“He was brought in an hour ago—”

“What happened?” I demanded again.

“He was in an accident, ma’am,” she replied. “I—”

“Which hospital?” I asked rudely.

“Heart’s Cross.”

I didn’t even say thank you or goodbye. I just hung up, grabbed my purse, and headed for the door. It was only when I heard my name being called that I realized I was at work and I couldn’t just walk out without an explanation.

“Megan?” Marta was calling out after me.

“It’s Phil,” I said, turning back to speak to her. “He’s been in an accident.”

“Oh my God!” she gasped.

“He was working this whole morning,” I said. “I don’t know how bad he is, but I’ve got to get to him now. He’s at Heart’s Cross.”

“You go ahead,” she said immediately. “I’ll make your excuses.”

“Thank you so much, Marta,” I said gratefully, as I turned and raced for the exit.

It took me almost twenty minutes to get to the hospital, and my stomach was in knots the whole time. I had to take the subway, and I bumped into three different people because my mind was so scattered. The third guy smelled of alcohol and cursed at me violently, but I barely cared. I just walked onto another section, sat down, and prayed that by some miracle somehow the train would pick up speed.

My mind was reeling. What if this injury was life-threatening? What if he didn’t make it? What if he was left paralyzed or horribly disfigured? The what ifs were driving me insane and I immediately regretted not asking the woman who had called me more questions about Phil’s condition. I couldn’t even be happy about the fact that Phil had listed me as his next of kin because I was so worried about how I would find him when I arrived at the hospital.

When I got to the hospital, I headed straight for the emergency room and asked about Phil Roberts, but no one seemed to know whom I was talking about. I didn’t even have anyone to call and ask about him. I decided to go to the main reception and ask someone there. I was about to ask one of the women behind the counters on the first floor when I spotted a face I recognized.

&nb

sp; I remembered him testifying for Phil at the trial. He was one of the guys that worked alongside Phil at the fire station, and I was pretty sure his name was Ryan. I walked up to him immediately.

“Excuse me?”

He turned around, and it was obvious from the expression on his face that he knew whom I was. “Hello,” he said. “You’re Megan, aren’t you?”

“Yes.” I nodded. “Is Phil all right?”

“Who called you?”

“The hospital,” I said, tripping over my words. “But she didn’t tell me what happened or how badly Phil was hurt. I don’t have any details, and I’m scared shitless. Is he okay? Was it a fire? Was it an accident?”

“Whoa, whoa,” he said. He put his hands on both my shoulders and looked me right in the eye. “It’s okay, calm down. Phil is fine.”

I stared at him for a moment, not daring to believe him just yet. “He’s…fine?”

“Well…maybe that’s overstating it.”

“What?”

“Why don’t you sit down while I explain?” Ryan suggested.