Page 65 of Colt

My lips twitched. “You sound like a Regency spinster.”

She laughed softly. “I just want to know that Colt treated you right.”

I thought back to the night before, and my heart fluttered. “He was amazing. It hurt, but only at first.”

My friend glanced at me. “He went easy on you, right?”

“He was perfect,” I replied.

She waggled her eyebrows. “Sounds hot.”

I couldn’t seem to wipe the smile off my face. “It was.”

“Lucky bitch,” she said under her breath. “I need to meet a hot biker.”

“Your Prince Charming will come along one day,” I assured her.

“Fuck that,” she murmured. “Life isn’t a fairy tale. The men we think are our Prince Charming usually end up being assholes. And believe it or not, villains aren’t so bad. At least you know where you stand with a villain.”

I snorted. “True, Gaston was hot.”

“Babe,” she retorted. “Gaston was a fuckboy, but at least he had a job, and no doubt knew how to use his dick. For that, I could settle.”

We’d been rushed off our feet all day. We’d both been sent to the ER to assist with the victims of a multi-vehicle RTA just after lunchtime.

I’d been checking, examining, arranging scans, and assisting doctors with administering pain relief for hours, so when the rush died down and we were sent on a break, I didn’t say no.

I loved my work, but it involved long-ass hours and a lot of study. Some nights, I snatched a few hours of sleep before hitting the books or going to work. It was only going to be for a few years. Once I passed my residency, my crazy hours would calm down.

The cafeteria was quiet, so I was served my coffee quickly before I sat at a window seat and pulled my phone to catch up on my emails and messages.

I replied to a few emails before clicking on my Whatsapp. Cara had sent me a couple of funny biker memes, Soph, her latest ultrasound picture, and Kennedy, a picture of the twins. I smiled, closing the chat thread, heart thudding as I clicked on the last notification—Colt’s.

I read the message, and every muscle froze.

Colt:Heard u gave ur digits 2 a certain auto mechanic. Why doesn’t it match with the ones I’ve got?

A cold shiver ran down my spine. Colt said he’d pick up my car. I thought I’d put him off, but knowing him, he’d have gone anyway. How did they even get into talking about me and my phone number? Surely they weren’t comparing notes about me?

I brought a hand up to rub my temple, sending up a prayer of thanks that I had the foresight to delete all the message strings on my other phone. Somehow, Christian had let my secret number slip to Colt, and he’d probably hacked into it already.

Fuck.

I stood, suddenly desperate to get back to the ER. We volunteered there doing the grunt work to gain work experience, which would look good on my Intern applications.

I placed my cup on the counter and hurried back down the hallway. As I approached the Emergency Room, my cell buzzed in my pocket. Grabbing it, I clicked on the notification.

Colt:Incoming—The next asshole will need an overnight stay.

A deep frown creased my forehead.

Incoming?

Puzzled, I switched my phone to silent and continued on my way to ER, mind still on the weird message. A feeling of impending doom started to spread through me.

Colt had done something, and I knew I wouldn’t like it.

I’d always known he had an edge to him. I’d seen him take out some big guys. My dad had brought him to the club because of a bar fight they got into that fateful night.

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