Maverick (Hell's Handlers MC 2)

“Sir, if you take one step toward that room, I’m calling security, and I’ll have to have you forcibly removed.”

“Knock yourself out, babycakes,” Maverick said to the nurse. Stephanie’s hand flew to her mouth to cover the giggle that leaked out. “I’ll be waiting for them right in there.”

The door to her room swung open, and there he stood in all his inked glory. He wore a pair of dark blue sweatpants that looked soft and worn in. A plain black T-shirt molded to his trim but still muscular chest. Ink covered most of his skin, and while she’d love to examine it all day long, her eyes were drawn to the bulky bandages over his left forearm. She couldn’t even imagine what lay under those bandages. He must be in a serious amount of pain. And yet, he’d broken hospital rules to pay her a visit.

“Hey, wildcat,” he said, gifting her a megawatt smile that had the power to vanquish panties on sight.

“Your woman?” Stephanie asked, raising an eyebrow.

His smile turned impish, and he shrugged. “Told my nurse—who is way sweeter than yours by the way—that my woman was two floors down, and I couldn’t eat or sleep until I checked on her. She practically threw me in the elevator herself.”

Stephanie chuckled. She could see it. Maverick had charm pouring out his ears.

“How you holding up, gorgeous?” he asked as he hobbled his way into her room.

“Geez, Maverick! Are you crazy? Sit down. You can barely walk. You should be in bed.”

“You offering up space in yours?” He winked and shuffled to the high-back chair next to her bed. Maybe she should scoot over and let him lie next to her. That chair looked about as comfortable as the metal table she’d been cuffed to.

“Sure,” she said before she let herself second-guess the decision. She’d clearly lost her mind but would blame it on the massive dose of pain meds for now.

Mav’s face lit up with surprise and pleasure, and if she wasn’t mistaken, the darkening of his eyes had a lustful quality to them.

Couldn’t be. Must have been some damn powerful pain meds to have her thinking like that.

CHAPTER EIGHT

IF MAVERICK WEREN’T so pumped up on pain pills and exhausted out of his mind, Stephanie’s offer to share the bed would have had him popping a boner for sure. Actually, the prescription drug-induced high was a good thing. Miss Stephanie probably wouldn’t appreciate a primed and ready-to-fuck biker sliding into bed with her. Not after she’d spent two days pants-less and under the terrifying threat of rape.

She was adorable. At least once he was able to look past the dark circles, fatigue lines, and bruises. After she healed and her face no longer bore marks of the utterly traumatized, she’d be gorgeous.

By the time he made the trip from his room to her bed, a journey that felt like three miles instead of the two floor trip, he could have collapsed and slept for the next week. Although the crushing rib pain that prevented him from taking a full breath might have made sleep difficult. At least he could finally set his mind at ease knowing Stephanie was away from danger.

He perched on the edge of her bed, intent on flopping next to her, but the intensity of the pain in his torso prevented him from doing much more than grunting.

“You okay?” Stephanie asked, concern lacing her voice.

“I’ve got a handful of broken ribs. Can’t seem to move from this position.”

“Here,” she said as she pushed a button on the bedrail. The head of the bed rose and rose until it was at a ninety-degree angle. “Try to lean against it now and see if you can lift your legs.”

He did as she commanded and rested his back against the elevated bed. It took a monumental effort, but he managed to hoist his legs onto the bed. Once he was situated, Stephanie lowered the bed to about a forty-five-degree angle. He groaned as some of the pressure left his chest. Closing his eyes, he enjoyed the warmth of her body heat and the feel of her soft form nestled along his left side. Thank God someone had helped her wash up.

They stayed quiet for a few moments until Stephanie asked in a soft voice, “Maverick?”

“Yeah, babe?”

“Can I ask you something?”

He opened his eyes and peered into her worried gaze. It didn’t take Jig’s rocket scientist brain to guess where this conversation was heading. “What do you want to know?”

“What happened after I passed out. I mean, is Shark…will he?”

Ice hardened his veins as Maverick recalled how fearful Stephanie looked when Shark’s men dragged her into the basement.

“They won’t be doing anything. To anyone. Ever.” He looked her straight in the eye as he spoke. Fatigue and pain shone back at him, slightly dulled by whatever magic cocktail they’d given her.