Chasing Claire (Hells Saints Motorcycle Club) (11 page)

“Eat up.”

Reno grabbed a fork and stabbed at the eggs. Then he washed them down with gulps of hot, untainted coffee.

“Better?” Jules watched Reno down the hot brew. “Eggs good?”

Reno looked at Jules. “Eggs are eggs.”

Jules arched an eyebrow and glared back at Reno.

“You’re fucking welcome.”

Reno took another hit of the coffee and looked at Jules over the rim of the cup.

“Everything tastes like shit to me lately.”

“Really? I didn’t notice,” Jules snarled at him. Then he placed his arms on the bar and looked Reno in the eye. “When you gonna snap the fuck out of it? This
pissed off at the world
shit is getting old and I am getting sick of running interference for you. You know it’s just a matter of time before Prosper calls you on it. You know that you don’t want that coming down on you with whatever else you got on your plate.”

Reno nodded. “Yeah, well, I got things on my mind. And right now, I am in some serious pain, so do me a favor and just shut the fuck up. And I don’t remember asking you to run any kind of interference with me and the boss.”

“Someone has to have your back, because you sure as shit ain’t looking out for yourself. Like to think if the situation were reversed, you’d do the same.” Jules’s gaze left Reno’s and he started to mop up the bar.

“You know I would, Brother,” Reno said in contrition. Then he added, “Eggs are great, man.”

Jules nodded to the swollen fist on the bar. “You want me to see to that hand?”

Jules’s training as a medic in the Marine Corps had earned him the role of go-to guy for all the club’s medical emergencies. That training, coupled with the fact that he had a surprisingly and
suspiciously well-equipped clinic set up in the compound, made Jules a very handy guy to have around. So much so, that Reno had often wondered just who, in another life, Jules had actually been.

“You got a hard-on to play doctor, man? Sure, I’ll bite.”

Jules looked closer at Reno, who could feel his face drip with sweat from the pain.

“Okay, Brother, I got some stuff I need to be doing in the clinic anyway. Let’s go.”

Jules poured himself another cup of coffee and headed toward the door. For years now, he had been treating the boys for everything from gunshot wounds to the clap. Some of them were already half-dead by the time they got to him, and he hadn’t lost one of the ungrateful motherfuckers yet. But, whether they came to him with a bullet lodged in their chest, or a splinter under their fingernail, they were all the same. They all acted like they were doing Jules a big, huge favor by allowing him to save their sorry asses. And then just like clockwork, every one of them would start screaming and moaning the minute that Jules had to take the needle and nylon to them.

Little bitch-ass mama’s boys, every last one of them.

They entered the clinic waiting area.

“Grab a seat, Brother, the boys are just finishing up the addition. I’ll take care of you here. Be right back. I’m going to go grab an ice pack and some pain pills.” Jules disappeared into the next room. He came back with a vial of prescription drugs and two ice packs.

He dipped his head toward Reno’s outstretched hand and began to slowly examine it. At least one finger was broken, and all the knuckles were swollen.

“Ouch!” Reno pulled his hand back as Jules applied pressure to the inflamed hand to check further for breaks. “Show a little tenderness will ya? That’s my hand you’re squeezing, not a goddamn tit.”

Jules leaned back. “Really? You could have fooled me, because you sure the hell are screaming like a girl.”

“Shut up,” Reno growled. “Just fix the damn thing. It is killing me, Brother.”

“Here, take these.” Jules moved the pills toward him. “Eat three of those bad boys and you won’t be feeling anything ’til tomorrow.”

“Hate swallowing pills,” Reno muttered.

“You’re lucky you’re not swallowing your own teeth. When are you going to cut this shit out? You ain’t hurting anybody but yourself.”

Reno gave him a shaky grin. “Yeah? Well you ain’t seen the other guy.”

Jules snorted.

“One of your fingers is broken. I have to splint it. I’ll be right back.”

Just then a shadow moved past the window and Jules grabbed the ice pack off Reno’s swollen knuckles. Reno opened his mouth to begin a stream of profane protests.

“You can thank me later, Brother.” Jules nodded to the doorway.

Reno twisted around to look in that direction.

“Claire.” Jules called to her. “Can you help me out and make sure this ice stays on his hand?”

Then without waiting for a reply, he tossed the ice pack to her. Claire caught it in one hand, her eyes wide with surprise.

“Thanks, doll. I have to go grab a splint. Be right back.” Jules held his grin until he turned away from the door.

“Hey, Claire.” Reno fought hard for the casual tone.

“Hey, Reno.” Claire fought too.

Silence followed as Claire moved toward Reno. She placed the ice pack gently on his swollen hand.

“Right here?” She did not meet his eyes.

“Yeah, baby. Right there is perfect. Thanks.” He watched as the blush swept over her face.

She looked at him with clear blue eyes. “You’re welcome.”

Jules walked back in and let out a low appreciative whistle. “Wow, looking good, babe. What brings you by?”

Claire smiled prettily at him. Reno let out a low, feral growl that Claire and Jules both pretended not to hear.

Then Claire winced and raised her knee to show Jules a big, dirty, bleeding scrape.

“Ouch, darlin’, how did you do that?” Jules moved closer to Claire and wrapped his arm around her knee. Then he pulled that knee slowly toward him.

Reno tensed beside him—he knew Jules was getting off on it just a little bit. When he ran his hand up and down Claire’s smooth tanned leg and pretended to check it for damage, Reno almost lifted himself off the chair.

“I’m on my way out to help Glory with her catering gig. I stopped by the kitchen house to grab a couple of trays. I tried to carry too much at once, I guess. I tripped and fell on the gravel in the driveway. Took a chance you’d be out here. But if you’re busy, Jules, I can just grab the first aid kit,” she said.

“You came to the right place, honey. It’s about time I got to treat something that doesn’t have a year’s worth of road dirt on it. Just do me a favor and keep that cold pack on my boy’s hand. That knee of yours needs to be cleaned out.” Jules disappeared again into the back room.

Claire pierced Reno with a questioning look.

Reno’s chest puffed out just a little bit. “Been bare-fisted fighting.”

“Sounds painful.” Claire’s eyes widened and she adjusted the ice pack.

“Yeah, some fucking things just hurt more than others,” Reno countered.

Claire let out a soft sigh. “That’s one thing that you and I can absolutely agree on, Reno.” Then she turned her big beautiful blue eyes right on him.

Reno heated all over. He didn’t move a muscle. Even though it fucking killed him not to reach out to her, he didn’t do it. The next time they touched, it was going to have to come from her.

Claire busied herself with adjusting the ice pack across Reno’s knuckles. She was close enough for him to smell her fresh, clean scent. When a lock of her long hair escaped and brushed softly against his arm, Reno couldn’t help himself. He moved his free hand and tucked it back behind her ear.

Claire blushed a deep rose and let out a jagged sigh.

And on Reno’s part, he got wood. Just like that.

“How have you been?” he asked.

“Good. Been okay, Reno,” she said softly back.

“Well, uh, you look good.” Reno’s eyes were fixed on her face. Drinking her in.

Just as Jules walked into the room, Reno saw Claire blush hard, her pupils dilate, and her nipples pop out like meringue tips against that pretty white shirt of hers.

“So Glory’s got a gig?” Jules was obviously trying to keep his tone even.

With feigned innocence Claire fixed her big blue eyes on his. Reno knew what this was about.

“Yeah, she does and she’s really excited about it. I’m really proud of her,” Claire said with enthusiasm.

“Gianni’s crew again?”

“Ouch.” Claire pulled back slightly under Jules’s sudden increased pressure.

“Sorry, darlin’.” Jules lessened that pressure instantly.

“So . . . Gianni’s crew again?” he repeated.

“Yeah. Gianni’s crew,” she answered, then quickly added, “Haven’t seen you around the house too much lately, Jules. We still have a fishing pole sitting in the corner with your name on it,” Claire spoke softly to him. None of the brothers liked the idea of
Glory working for the mob. That point had been made loud and clear. But Claire was still hopeful that Jules would stop being so damn ridiculous about the whole thing. After all, Prosper was okay with it and he was the
boss
for chrissakes. Maybe Jules just needed a little help to get his head out of his ass.

Jules grunted and pressed a small antiseptic square against the open scrape on her leg.

Claire let out a sharp breath, then she bent way over and panted. Her soft breasts hit her thighs and her skirt rode way, way up on her smooth legs.

She looked up suddenly, and focused her wide blue eyes right at Jules. Then she said pointedly, “Little trick that Glory taught me. Blowing on it always makes it feel better.”

“Gimme that damn Band-Aid.” Reno grabbed it from Jules’s hand and pressed it gently against Claire’s knee.

Claire smiled brilliantly at both of them, now satisfied that Jules had all but forgotten being pissed at Glory for accepting the job for Gianni’s boys, and had started remembering a few of the things that he loved about Glory. Claire decided she had better leave on a high note.

“Thanks, Jules. It feels better already. I need to get going. Do you want me to tell Glory that you’ll be dropping by soon?”

When Claire reached the door she paused and looked back at Jules, whose mouth was
still
hanging open.

“Well?”

Jules hesitated only a fraction of a second, then called out, “Yeah, tell Glory I’ll be around soon to . . . uh . . . to . . . uh . . . to take her fishing.”

Claire nodded and flashed Reno a look of total triumph. She had gotten Jules to cave in. No one ever got Jules to cave in. Reno hadn’t missed that and returned her look with such an expression of disbelief that she almost burst out laughing right on the spot. “I’ll
let her know,” Claire called out to Jules, flashed him a bright smile, and sashayed right out the door.

Claire held her composure until she drove through the gates of the compound. Then she rolled down the window, turned up the tunes, and let the priceless expressions on the faces of two rough, tough outlaws dance through her mind.

As she sped down the highway, she laughed out loud.

CHAPTER 19

R
eno’s breath is warm against my bare skin. I arch slightly as his hands move up to my hair and bury themselves in the tangled mess. Tugging on the back of my head gently, he imprisons me. I tremble as his mouth moves over mine. I feel the heat of that kiss everywhere. His voice is a gentle rumble, whispering against my ear, “You’re mine, baby . . .”

The jarring ring of the alarm clock woke me up and brought me back.

I didn’t want to be back. I wanted to be where I had just been, in Reno’s bed.

Oh God.

In Reno’s bed.

It was the third night in a row that I had had that dream or an equally steamy variation of it. Running into Reno unexpectedly at the clinic had caught me off guard. For the following few days, all I could do was think about him. When the alarm woke me up, I stayed in bed for a few extra minutes and willed myself back to that delicious dream state. To my great disappointment, instead of drifting back to wonderland, I lay awake staring at the ceiling. Not only did I end up feeling pathetic and sorry for myself, but I had also managed to make myself ten minutes late starting my day.

The morning had just gone downhill from there.

Now, I was sitting in the driveway, kicking at the tires of the Jeep, swearing my head off, and cursing Diego and his damn gift. It really wasn’t very fair, or very nice of me, and it didn’t even make me feel any better, but I kept on kicking and swearing anyway.

Because really? Really? Goddammit! The stupid thing wouldn’t start and I was going to be late. It was my first day of college, and I was as nervous as a mouse in a cat’s house.

And I had just spent the entire morning filled with self-doubt.

Maybe I wasn’t ready for this. Maybe I wasn’t smart enough. I didn’t even know what to pack for lunch. Did people even use brown bags anymore? What if I got lost on my way to class? Or worse, what if I sat down in a class, only to discover that I was in the wrong one?

On and on and on I went, just like that.

Doubts assailed me and I came dangerously close to losing my nerve. That Glory was not home only made matters worse. I had no one to bounce the fears off of. No one to tell me that I could do this. No one to give me an “Atta Girl.”

And I really needed an “Atta Girl” right about now.

It was pretty safe to say I was losing my brave. And fast.

After managing to pull myself together for maybe a minute and a half, I made the colossal mistake of calling the college registrar’s office with one single, simple question. Instead of just answering that one single, simple question, the very bitchy receptionist referred me to the class’s online course syllabus.

And that was the worst thing of all, because . . . I had absolutely no idea what a syllabus was.

Then the Jeep wouldn’t start.

But that was not all.

Nope, that was not all.

On this, my very first day of college, fate just had to step in and throw one more whammy at me. When I called the clubhouse for
help with the Jeep, out of all the people who could have possibly picked up that phone, Reno just happened to be walking by.

Damn Prosper, and his stupid resistance to cell phones.

When I heard Reno’s warm familiar voice, I felt those flood gates open. Feeling totally frustrated and overwhelmed, I started to heave and stutter. Reno, unable to make sense of the conversation, kept telling me to calm down, which everybody knows is the worst thing that you can say to a woman who is on the verge of hysteria. After about five rounds of, “Babe, you have got to rein it in,” I was able to sputter out something that I hoped sounded like, “the Jeep won’t start.”