BROKEN WINGS: GODS OF CHAOS MC (BOOK THREE) (13 page)

She sat there in all her glory, waiting for me faithfully, as she always had.  I ran my hand across her chrome handlebars, her beautiful shiny tank, her leather seat that hugged me just right.  I easily could have walked the fifteen blocks, but I needed to move her anyway, and I never passed up on an opportunity to ride her.

I put on my helmet, started her up with a thunderous roar, and headed west.

I found the store easily, quickly went in and bought three boxes of condoms, avoiding the store clerk’s eye as I checked out.  My cock twitched as soon as I stepped back into the hazy grey mist, my mind already scheming up ideas for the best way to wake up Diana.   

I headed back towards her apartment, my head in the clouds.  She had gotten under my skin somehow.  She was the first woman I had ever wanted to spend time with in the daylight hours.  She was the first woman I ever felt truly protective of.  It was a strange, new feeling.  Part of me wanted to shrug it off, pretend it wasn’t happening, pretend I wasn’t getting attached to her.  And the other part of me didn’t give a shit what the outcome was, as long as I got to be in her presence for just a little longer.  As long as I got to feel her warm body quivering at my touch, as long as I got to see her satisfied smile after she came over and over again.  

Who the fuck had I become in the last few days?
 If the Gods could see me now they would have a field day making fun of me.  

The Gods.

Me.  I was a God.  I had to be careful not to forget that.  I couldn’t afford to forget where I had come from, I couldn’t afford to forget who I was.

I had to remind myself that women like Diana didn’t end up with men like me.  That was just the fucking law of the land, and there was nothing she, nor I, could do about it.  

My cock throbbed tightly, straining against my jeans, as if to remind me of it’s driving force.  As if I could ever forget that fucker.

I was two blocks from Diana’s apartment, riding down the rainy Portland streets.  I didn’t miss Portland at all.  I did, however, miss the peaceful seclusion of the clubhouse.  There were way too many people in this city now, and it was nothing like the nostalgic memories of how it was in my youth.  Every street seemed to be lined with a stream of people, and the loud clattering of street cars and light rails that now ran along every street.  

I reached down to try to adjust my growing erection.  I overextended with my other hand, and the front tire of my bike slipped on one of the rails for the street car, causing my bike to come to a screeching halt, and throwing my body over the handlebars.  I slammed onto the pavement of the street face first, my body crumpling into a broken mess on the wet road.

☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼

I walk through the barn door, the crunch of dried, dead hay announcing my every step.  A low, constant rattling echoes in my ears as I walk towards the light.  I hear a voice, a man’s voice, a familiar low grumble.  And then the small, fragile sound of fear cuts through my brain.  A child?  No, a woman.  Two women.

“Don’t, please, just keep it away…” her voice fades as another begins.  “Can’t you just let us go, mister? We know who you are, but we won’t tell anyone if you let us go…please?”

The low grumble turns to a laugh as the rattling gets louder, and then she screamed.  And screamed.  And screamed again.

And his voice rose above her screams as I began running to the light at the far end of the barn.  

“Jesus said it! That settles it!  That’s ALL THAT MATTERS!” 

His voice rose to a thundering boom and I placed my hands over my ears.  The light kept flashing, appearing farther and farther away with each step I was taking until the voices and the light began fading away.  I reached out to grab them, and they turned into a pile of dust in my hand.
 

An incessant ringing began in my ears and I shook my head.  The dust fell through my fingers and darkness surrounded me, the ringing still echoing in my head.

It took six rings before I woke up and realized it was my iPhone ringing.

“What the fuck?” I said out loud, the dream still faint, still straddling the thin line that divides our unconsciousness from reality.  I reached for the phone, and when I saw Slade’s name appear, I looked around the apartment.  

Where did he go?,
I wondered as I answered.

“Hey babe,” I answered.

“Hello?  Is this Peaches?” replied a brisk male voice.

“Peaches? No, this is Diana. Who is this?” Where was Slade?

“Excuse me, ma’am.  My name is Sean.  I’m a nurse at Good Samaritan Hospital.  There’s been an accident.”

“An accident? Oh, my god!  Is Slade okay?”

“Slade?”

“You’re calling me from Slade’s phone!” I said, my heart racing with fear and confusion.

“Oh, okay.  Well I’m calling you because we have a gentleman here who was in a motorcycle accident.  His identification says his name is Jeremiah Featherstone.  He came to briefly, after he arrived, and he asked us to call you.  Or, um…Peaches. That’s what’s listed on his phone under your number.”

Peaches? Jeremiah Featherston? Oh, my god.

“Is he okay?” I asked.

“Yes, ma’am, I believe he will be.  He has a broken arm, though, and he’s pretty banged up.  Luckily, he was wearing his helmet.  We’ve admitted him to the hospital. He’s sleeping now, and we’ll be keeping him overnight so we can monitor him.”

“I’ll be right there.”

He gave me instructions on how to find him, and I hung up the phone with tears in my eyes.  

If anything happened to Slade, I didn’t know what I’d do.

I took a deep breath, jumped out of bed, and raced to the hospital as fast as I could.

When I got there, I braced myself before I walked into his room. His right arm was in a cast and a sling that held it close to his body. His face was fine, but his hands and arms were all scratched up. He was sleeping, his eyes closed, and he would have looked almost peaceful if he wasn’t hooked up to a bunch of monitors and IV’s.

Still, my heart sank when I saw him, and I rushed to his side.  I grabbed his left hand, but he didn’t wake up.  

Tears began falling down my cheeks.  Tears of worry.  Tears of relief that he was alive.  Tears of the imagined pain of almost having lost him.  

Those fucking bikes!,
I thought, shaking my head.  So much danger to put yourself in, and for what?  For a little ego boost?  A surge of adrenaline?  To look cool?

I didn’t share his passion, and him lying there, all banged up and broken, certainly didn’t help endear them to me.

I was pulling a chair up next to him when a man wearing scrubs walked in.  

“Hello, are you Peaches - I mean, Diana?” he asked.

“Yes, Diana Trudeau, nice to meet you,” I said, holding out my hand.

“Oh - from the news?” he said, as most people in Portland realized as soon as they heard my name. 

“Yep, that’s me.”

“Oh.  Cool,” he said, smiling.  “Well Mr. Featherstone here is a lucky man.  His injuries could have been much worse.  Like I said on the phone, it’s a good thing he was wearing his helmet.  His tire seems to have slipped on a railing in the road, and he was thrown over the handlebars and onto the street.  His right arm is broken in two places.  He’ll need to take it easy for quite a while.”

“Thank you,” I replied.

“You’re welcome.  He should be awake in a few hours.  He has a morphine drip, so when he does wake up, he’ll be pretty out of it, and I expect he’ll be that way for most of the day and night as we slowly wean him off of it.  He should be able to go home tomorrow at some point.  But no motorcycle riding for several months, if that.  We won’t know if physical therapy is required until we see how the bones are healing.”

“I see.  Can I stay here with him?”

“Of course, make yourself at home.  There’s a pillow and blanket in that closet,” he said, gesturing at a door next to the bathroom.  

“Thank you,” I replied.

He turned to leave, and then stopped himself.

“Is there anyone else you’d like me to call? He only asked for you.”

“Oh.  Yes, but I can call them.  If you give me his phone for the numbers?” I said, realizing I had no idea who to contact except for the Gods.

“It’s in the closet.  Along with Mr. Featherstone’s belongings that were retrieved at the scene.”

“Okay, thank you,” I said, as he left the room.

I turned back to Slade, and shook my head again.  Why the hell was he on his bike in the first place? He should have been in my bed with me.

The nurse was right, though.  I needed to notify the Gods.  I walked over to the closet to find Slade’s phone.  When I opened the door, his phone and wallet were sitting on a pile of neatly folded clothes that included Slade’s jeans, his black t-shirt, and his underwear.  His cut was hung up.  I smiled, fingering the rough, worn leather, running my fingers over the edges of the raised patches.  I reached for his phone and spotted a brown paper bag next to his leather boots.  I reached inside and smiled when I saw the contents. 

Three boxes of condoms, with a receipt with a time-stamp from this morning.  

Mystery solved
, I thought.  Of course that’s where he went.  A small surge of pleasure ran through me when I realized he wanted to stay in bed as much as I did.

So, that’s where he went
, I thought.  It would be quite a while before we got to use those condoms.

I put the condoms back, grabbed his phone, and walked back over to him.  I watched him quietly and softly sighed, my heart full of mixed emotions for this broken, yet virile man sleeping in front of me.  It was the first time I had seen him sleep.  I dared not touch him, but I traced the outline of his relaxed face with my eyes, lingering on his soft lips, the lips that had brought me so much pleasure, from the slow grin that he loved to flash, to the magic he performed between my legs.

Was there any way we could ever have more than this?  More than just sex? He was so far removed from my world, he would surely feel uncomfortable and out of place.

Oh, what was I thinking? Here I was standing here, getting all emotional about Slade, when he was just fine.  He had only broken a limb, he would heal and be on his way back to his life with the Gods in hours.

The Gods.  I needed to call them.

I grabbed his phone, and searched for Ryder’s number.

☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼

When I woke up, Diana, Ryder and Riot were surrounding my bed.  

“What happened?” I asked, my mouth dry as cotton.

“You laid your bike down,” Ryder said.  

“Shit, how’s my bike?” I asked.  I loved that bike more than anything else in the world.  I’d spent hours, weeks, months even, working on her, detailing her, making her purr perfectly every time I started her up.  

“Gonna need a lot of TLC, but nothing that can’t be fixed.  Doc and Grace are taking it back to the clubhouse as we speak. ”

I nodded, and my eyes drifted to Diana.  She looked tired, but she was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.  Why in the hell she was still hanging around me, I didn’t know.  

“Hey,” I said, as she reached down and put her hand over mine.