Page 18 of Jett

“How you feeling?”

“Like I got run over by a Mack truck.”

“Well, sliding off a bike at high speed, getting crushed by a biker, and almost blown up will do that to you.”

“You sound like you’ve had experience.”

“Oh, I have. I’ve been living with this idiot for the last six months.”

“Good point.” I try to shift on the bed but find it takes two arms to move my whole body, and at present, I only have one.Oh God. Jett’s going to fire me. “I’m going to lose my job.”

“You’re not going to lose your job.”

“I can’t clean. I can’t serve drinks, or even cook properly with my arm in this stupid thing.” I lift the broken appendage in question and a sharp bolt of pain spears my forearm and bicep right up to my shoulder.Great.

“Jett won’t fire you, Raine. Kick, tell her.”

“Prez isn’t likely to fire you. Besides, your mouth’s not broken.” He shrugs. “You can still clean his cock.”

“Out!” Indie shouts, hurtling a pillow toward him.

Kick dodges and throws his old lady a wink. “And speaking of mouths.”

“So help me God, Biker, if you finish that sentence ...”

He chuckles darkly and exits the room. “Feel better soon, Raine.”

I just smile and shake my head. Indie really is the best thing that ever happened to that man.

“God, he’s such a pig,” she says.

“He loves you though.”

“I know.” It’s her turn to shake her head. “I don’t know why I love him back, but I do.”

“You make a really cute couple.”

“Thanks, I think?”

“Yeah. I’m suddenly not so sure that’s a compliment either.” I laugh. “Maybe I should say you bring out the best in him?”

“Oh, that’s a good one. I like that way better.” She leans forward in her seat. “So, you about ready to get up and shower?”

“God yes. I need to pee so bad it’s not even funny.”

***

AFTER GETTING CLEANwith Indie’s help—something I apologised for profusely—I’m feeling better. My hair is freshly washed, I have clean clothes that Ivy has given me, and while they’re a little revealing for my tastes, I’m grateful for them all the same.

When I’m halfway decent, I exit the room. The clubhouse is noisy, but then again, it always is. With this many bodies though, the din is almost painful.

“And she’s up!” Crazy yells when he sees me. He’s surrounded by bikers, playing some kind of card game—poker, if I had to guess—and he slams his hand down on the table, unsettling the chips and beer glasses.

I give a little wave and glance around the room. Jett sits in a recliner with a tall brunette on his lap. Every inch of her looks expensive, from her dark, glossy locks to her designer heels. I feel like a grubby child by comparison. This must be his wife, Mia. She’s lovely, though the death stare she gives me is anything but. Her brown eyes narrow and spear me with a look that says I’m beneath her, and I shouldn’t forget it. I glance at her husband, whose hands are digging into her hips. His ice-blue gaze watches me, but there’s none of the usual friendliness in them. Tears prick my eyes and I swallow the lump in my throat. I’m just about to tell Indie that I’m not feeling well and head back to my room when Grim comes out of the hall opposite and a choked cry escapes me. I run to him, crushing myself against his side to avoid injuring my arm. It stings anyway, and he grunts. I’ve hurt him too.

“I’m so sorry.” I glance up at him. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“It’s okay, babe. Just a little tender around the kidneys—had some body mod work done by a bomb.”

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