Page 2 of Grim's Gem

“Miss. Kline, I’ve already told you I can't date my patients.” I smile politely at the woman sitting on the hospital bed.

I’ve tried letting this woman down easy time and time again, but nothing works. She just keeps coming back, repeatedly asking me out. Honestly, the hospital couldn’t give two shits about what happens outside these halls, but the last thing I need right now is a woman tying me down. I see how hard my brothers have fallen and how much stress and worry they have taken on just because they fell in love. Well, that shit is not for me.

I have enough to worry about, what with being a fucking amazing doctor. That's not bragging; that's just fucking facts. On top of that, I have to worry about my brothers in the club and now their women, too. I can't lose anyone else. Fuck, before Dread, I had a bit more hope, even after the shitty upbringing I had. But now, he’s gone, and I feel like I have to carry it all.

Miss Kline, or Kathy, as she begs me to call her, pouts before speaking again. Before she can, Eliza, one of the few nurses I like around this place, comes bustling through the door.

“Emergency, Doctor Adams. We need you now,” Eliza says, not waiting for my answer before she turns and walks back out. I nodto a glaring Miss Kline and rush out of the room and down the hall to the nurses' station.

“What's the emergency?” I ask Eliza when I round the corner.

“You’ve been here for twenty-two hours. Time to clock out,” she says, not even looking up from her patient charts. I want to laugh. Hell, if it weren't for her being like a sister to me, I would kiss her.

“Thank you,” I sigh in relief. “You saved me yet again.”

“You mean from the stalker bitch? It's okay, you can say it,” she smirks over at me while I shake my head, laughing. I try to be as professional as possible at work, but Eliza, well, she… does not.

She knows what a hard time Miss Kline gives me. For twenty-two years old, you would think she would be out partying or living her best life in the clubs and exploring a bit more. Instead, she’s been begging for my dick for a year now. When Miss Kline first came in with mysterious illnesses, we all chalked it up to being a hypochondriac. Then, the flirting started. I walked in on her completely naked; she said she was changing out of her clothes into a gown even though no one had given her a gown to wear. Then she got bolder, asking me out and personal questions. Hell, once, she even sat on my lap. After that, I push her off to the other doctors every chance I get, even though she isn't happy about it. I’ve got to figure out a permanent solution for the bat-shit-crazy woman.

“Thanks, Liza, I owe you one,” I tell her, turning and heading down the hall until I make it to my locker to change.

Fuck, it's been a long ass shift, and all I want to do is head back to the clubhouse, drink a beer, and crawl into bed. The club’s having a party tonight, and I’m already fucking late, but I guessI can show my face for a little bit. I pull on my clothes, including my cut, before leaving the hospital.

When the hospital hired me, I told them I was in a club and would wear my cut anytime I wasn't on duty. Thankfully, they didn’t care after they saw my qualifications, and now let me do my thing.

I throw my leg over the side of my bike and crank it up, pulling out of the parking lot. I see Miss Kline walking out of the front door just as I pass and watch her little pout acting like I didn't see shit. When is that crazy bitch going to take a hint? I swear some women don't fucking understand no means no. Consent is everything to my brothers and me, and that shit goes both ways.

I breathe easier as I make it out onto the highway, driving for about ten minutes before turning off and onto the back road that leads to the Reckless Omens compound. Fuck am I ready for a damn beer. I drive for a few more minutes until I see a figure running down the road. She turns back a couple of times to look at me, but doesn't stop running. All I can see is a dark figure, her curves going for miles. Damn, this woman is thick, just like I like them. From here, I can see she is missing one shoe. Her leather high-waisted pants have mud all over them, and her orange crop top is ripped. What the fuck happened, and who the hell do I have to kill for leaving her alone out here?

As I get closer, she turns to look at me, and fuck, she nearly knocks my ass right off my bike. Her caramel-colored eyes glow against her smooth dark skin. Her hair is in wide ringlet curls that blow in the wind as she turns back, facing front. Her foot gets stuck, though, and I watch in horror as she goes down.

“Fuck.” I’m parked and on her in a few seconds, but she’s already hit the ground.

“Dammit, I swear I only broke that mirror yesterday, but this has to be part of that seven years of bad luck,” she mutters as I make my way toward her.

“Babygirl, are you alright? You took a hard fall. Can I help you up?” I ask, trying to be gentle and calm. I can tell she's scared, but I'm unsure what to do about that, so I fall back on my training.

“Well, thank fuck you ain't Robby. I would hate to have to kick his ass again. Don't just stand there. Give a girl a hand,” she says, turning and giving me a sassy grin. That grin. Fuck me right up the ass with a scalpel. I just found my woman. My brothers weren’t lying; it hits you hard. That mischievous and sassy grin tells me everything I need to know.

“Fuck, you're all mine,” I say out loud before bending, grabbing her by her waist, and lifting her. I don't stop carrying her until she's on the back of my bike. No one has ever been on the back of my bike before. That spot is reserved only for Ol’ Ladies, and I just placed my queen right on her motherfucking throne.

“Uh, first, I said help me up, not carry me all over god-knows-where. Second, I weigh too much for you to carry me anywhere, even with all those drool-worthy muscles. And third, why the hell am I on the back of your bike? I can walk just fine,” she says, but I notice she doesn't make a move to get off my bike. Trying to hold back my grin, I grab my helmet and hold it up to her.

“Sorry, this might mess up your beautiful curls, baby,” I tell her, placing it over her head and buckling it, tightening the straps.

“Good thing I do hair for a living,” she says, smirking.

“Hold on tight,” I tell her once I mount the bike in front of her. She grabs my sides, but that just won't do. I want to feel everyinch of her. I grab the back of her knees and drag her so tight against me that a piece of paper wouldn't fit between us. Then I take her hands and wrap them around my waist.

“Holy fuck, is that an eight-pack I feel? I didn’t know those existed anymore with the dad bod craze. Imma need to see those up close and personal to make sure,” she says, moving her fingers up and down my abs. I chuckle, but it's half amusement, half pained.

“Baby, you better stop now, or I'm gonna be showing you a lot more than my abs, and you’ve been traumatized enough tonight.” I groan when she slides them back down again.

“Well, hell, maybe you're right. As much as I’m curious about the size of that machine you’ve got down below, it’s been a long ass night. Now, you takin’ me to safety, or am I going to have to kick your ass when we get wherever we're going cause you want to lock me in your basement?” she asks, and I bark out a laugh.

“We don't take women to the basement. They go to the shed.” I grin back at her. She rolls her eyes, but I can see the smile playing on her lips. She doesn't realize how serious I am.

“To answer your question, baby, we are headed to the compound. I'm part of the Reckless Omens and…” I don't get to finish cause I hear her gasp.