Clutch: Satan's Fury MC (11 page)

He lifted up on his elbow and took the medicine, then fell back onto the bed, closing his eyes as I placed the cold rag on his head. He coughed again before saying, “Thanks, Hazel.”

“I’m going to let you sleep. I’ll be back a little later to check on you. I’m going to take your keys with me so I can get back in,” I told him, but he wasn’t listening. He’d already fallen back asleep.

When I got back to the apartment, the kids were getting ready for bed. I went in to check in on Hadley and she immediately asked, “How’s Clutch?”

“He’s pretty sick, but I think he’ll be okay.”

“He’s all alone. Are you going to take care of him?” she asked.

“I’ll do what I can, but Clutch is a big boy. I’m pretty sure he can take care of himself.”

She shook her head. “Not when he’s sick, Livie. Momma always said that men are at their worst when they’re sick.”

I smiled. “Well, she wasn’t wrong about that, so I’ll do what I can to help him.”

Relief washed over her. “Good. He’s going to need you. Maybe you could make him some of your chicken noodle soup.”

“Maybe. Let’s just wait and see how he’s feeling tomorrow.”

After the kids went to bed, I finished cleaning the kitchen and folded another load of laundry. By the time I was done, it was almost midnight. I stared at the wall, wondering if Clutch was doing any better, and finally decided that there was only one way to find out. I crept across the hall and tapped on his door. I didn’t expect him to answer, but I figured it was the polite thing to do. I waited a few seconds, then used his key to open the door. I was a little apprehensive as I stepped inside his apartment. Even though I had a good reason for intruding, I still felt a bit uneasy about walking into a strange man’s home without permission. Ignoring my anxiety, I tiptoed down the hall and into Clutch’s bedroom. I turned on the light as I entered and found him sprawled out over the bed, legs on top of pillows, his head hanging off the side, and his mouth draped wide open. The covers had found their way to the floor and there was no sign of the cold rag I’d placed on his forehead. I stepped closer and put my hand on his forehead to check his fever again, and the minute my palm touched the heat of his skin, I panicked. He was hot, dangerously hot, so I rushed out of the room and headed over to my apartment for a thermometer. 

When I returned, I placed my hand on his chest and pushed, trying to get him to wake up long enough for me to take his temperature. Finally, I got him to open his eyes and I said, “Open up. I need to see how high your fever is.”

Thankfully, he didn’t argue and let his mouth fall open. Once I’d placed the end of the thermometer under his tongue, he closed his mouth. While I waited for it to beep, I found the wet rag and placed it back on his forehead. When it was ready, I took the thermometer from his mouth and became immediately concerned when it read one hundred and three point five.

“Clutch,” I whispered. “Your fever is really high. I think we should get you to the emergency room.”

He rolled to his side and groaned, “No … tomorrow.”

It was like dealing with a two-year-old. I nudged him again and said, “Yes.”

He shook his head and growled, “
No
.”

“Fine. But you need to take another dose of medicine and drink some fluids immediately. Your fever is dangerously high, and if the meds don't kick in, you're going to the emergency room, even if I have to call 911 to get you there!"

He started grumbling under his breath, but I ignored him and went into the kitchen to get the medicine I'd brought over earlier and poured him a glass of Gatorade. When I returned, his body was trembling again, making me worry even more. I sat down next to him on the edge of the bed and held the drink for him as he took his medicine. When he tried to lay back down, I said, “No way, mister. Sit up here and drink some more of this.”

“I don’t want it,” he protested.

“I didn’t ask you if you wanted it, Clutch. I said drink it. You need to get some fluids into your system.” He bitched and moaned under his breath, but he continued to drink. When he emptied the glass, I told him, “That’s more like it.”

He looked up at me, and with puppy dog eyes and a childlike expression, he said, “You’re so pretty.”

“You’re delusional. It must be the fever,” I teased. “Get some rest.”

“I bought a lottery ticket,” he announced.

Knowing he was just mumbling in his sleep, I grabbed his covers from the floor and draped them over him, then turned out the light and sat in the chair beside his bed. I didn’t want to leave him until I knew his fever had gone down. It took almost forty-five minutes, but thankfully it dropped down to just a little over a hundred degrees. Even though his temperature had dropped, I was still worried about leaving him. After checking on him once more, I went back to my apartment and, before I went to sleep, I changed the time on my alarm to an hour earlier than I usually get up. I wanted to be sure I had plenty of time to check on Clutch before I had to get the kids to school and get to work. I finally made it over to the sofa and lay down. When I closed my eyes, Clutch’s face was the first thing that popped into my mind. I kept seeing him say, “You’re so pretty,” over and over again.

Heaven help me. I was in trouble.

I was in Hell. Pure, unadulterated Hell.

I felt like I’d been put through a meat grinder. Twice. I couldn’t breathe. Every muscle in my body ached and my head felt like it was stuck in a vise grip, but that was only half of it. Instead of lying comfortably in my bed, I was sitting in some walk-in clinic downtown. The little ray of sunshine from next door wouldn’t stop pestering me, going on and on about my stupid high fever and cough. I wanted to tell her to leave me the hell alone, but when I saw the worried look in her eyes, I finally agreed to go. So there I sat, surrounded by a bunch of sick folks wishing I was still in my bed. I could barely keep my fucking eyes open, but every time I tried to doze off, some kid would start screaming, making it impossible for me to go to sleep. I was miserable, and when I looked over at Hazel and saw that she seemed totally unaffected by the chaos around us, it only made me feel more irritated.

“Shouldn’t you be at work or dealing with the kids or
something
?” I grumbled.

Without looking in my direction, she answered, “Yes, but Louise let me off.”

I closed my eyes and rested my head on the wall behind me as I said, “Didn’t take her for an easygoing boss. Figured she’d give you hell about missing a shift.”

“When I told her that I was taking you to the doctor, she was actually really nice about it. Even said she wouldn’t cut my pay for the day.” There was a hint of surprise in her voice when she said, “Now that you mention it, she was
oddly nice
about it.”

“I’ll have to thank her the next time I see her,” I told her sarcastically.

I felt her turn in her seat to face me. “Why was she so nice about it? Are you related to her or something?”

I opened my eyes and said, “Not exactly, but you could say we’re family.”

“How are you family if you’re not related?” she pushed.

“That’s how it works when you’re a member of the club; you’re family.”

“Louise is a member of a motorcycle club?” she squealed. “No freaking way.”

I was about to respond when another one of my coughing fits took over, forcing me to lean forward to catch my breath. I rested my elbows on my knees and was still gasping for air when Hazel ran her hand across my back, drawing my attention away from my lack of oxygen and over to the warmth of her touch. As I focused on the movement of her hand, my breathing quickly returned to normal, and to my surprise, she didn’t take her hand away. Instead, she continued to rub my aching muscles and even ran her nails over my scalp, turning me into a big fucking puddle of mush. She’d gotten to me. She’d given me a little more of that softer side of hers, and I liked it.

But I wanted more … much, much more. 

I could’ve sat there for hours letting her make imaginary trails across my head and back, but unfortunately a nurse called out my name, letting us know it was time to go back to see the doctor. Hazel quickly stood up and, once she’d helped me get to my feet, we followed the nurse to the back. Two hours later, we’d finally made it back to my apartment. Turns out Hazel was right about going to the doctor. I had the flu, and for the meds to work, I had to take it within the first twenty-four hours. I didn’t miss the smile on her face when she brought the medicine over to me. Oh yeah; she was gloating. I chose to ignore Little Miss know-it-all and, after I swallowed the pills, I pulled the covers over me and closed my eyes.

“How about something to eat?”

“I’m not hungry,” I mumbled.

“You need to try to eat something, Clutch. The label said to take it with food. I could go downstairs and get you some soup.”

“No.”

“How about a chocolate shake?”

I cracked one eye open, glaring at her as I growled, “No.”

“Whatever,” she huffed. “Don’t say I didn’t try.”

She walked out of the room, and seconds later I heard my front door slam. The room suddenly felt unbearably empty and quiet … too fucking quiet, making me immediately regret acting like such an ass. I considered texting her with an apology, but quickly realized I had no way to get in touch with her. Fuck. I screwed up, and unfortunately at that moment there was nothing I could do about it. I rolled over and put the pillow over my head, trying to block out the guilty feeling that was gnawing at the pit of my stomach. I’d just about fallen asleep when I heard my door open and shut. Seconds later, Hazel appeared with a tray of food and a determined look on her face.

“What’s all that?”

“Food. Now, sit up so you can eat something,” she ordered. “No whining or complaining either.”

I pulled myself up into a sitting position as I said, “I haven’t whined.”

“Oh yeah, you have. You’re an old pro. I bet you drove your mother nuts with all your pouting,” she teased.

“Stop picking on me. I’m sick. I might be actually dying over here.”

“And dramatic, too. Bless her heart.” She placed the tray on the bed next to me. “I don’t know how she put up with you.”

“It was easy. I was a good kid and pretty damn good-looking, too.”

With the tips of her fingers, she brushed the long strands of hair out of my face as she replied, “Maybe so, but I doubt it.” She paused for a minute as she studied my face, then said, “You know … with all this hair, I think I’m going to start calling you Shaggy.”

“No. Not gonna happen,” I told her as I reached for the bowl of soup. “I’ve already got a name. Two, actually.”

“Shaggy Thomas.” She laughed. “That’s two names.”

“
Hazel
,” I warned.

“I kind of like it. It has a nice ring to it.” She got up and started for the kitchen as she said, “How about some more to drink, Shaggy?”

“How about I tan your hide if you call me Shaggy again?”

“Ha!” she called out from the kitchen. “Like you could tan anyone’s hide in your sickly state.”

“I’m not
that
sick.”

She walked back into the room carrying a fresh drink and said, “Is that right? And to think a few minutes ago you thought you were dying.”

“I may be sick, but I’ve got a good memory, Hazel. Just know, you’ve got one coming.”

She rolled her eyes and smiled as she said, “I can’t wait …
Shaggy
.”

There was something about her smile that got to me. Maybe it was the spark in her eyes or just seeing the playful side of her. I don’t know what it was, but I liked it. I liked it a lot. The more I was around her, the more I wanted to know about her. I wanted to know everything there was to know … including whatever it was that she was hiding. I knew it was too soon, so I didn’t push her to talk about it. I could be patient, and I had no doubt that she was worth the wait.

I finally managed to eat some of the homemade soup she’d brought, but by the time I was done, my body gave out on me. Without meaning to, I fell back to sleep. By the time I woke back up, the room was completely dark. I had no idea what time it was, but I didn’t care. I still felt awful and was content to just lay there in the silence. The longer I laid there, the more I thought about the woman I’d come to know as Hazel. She was a mystery to me, a mystery I was determined to solve. She was hiding something. They all were—their names, where they were from, and what had driven them from their home. It must’ve been bad, otherwise a woman like her wouldn’t be working in some diner and living in some shithole apartment. I had most of the pieces, but the missing ones were keeping me from putting the puzzle together. I wanted those missing pieces. I needed to know all there was to know about her.

I’d been lying there thinking for almost an hour when Hazel tapped on my bedroom door.

Seconds later, the lights came on and she stepped into the room carrying another tray of food. She smiled and asked, “Hey. You up for eating a little something?”

Her hair was down and she was wearing an oversized sweatshirt with a pair of cutoff shorts. I couldn’t help but notice how sexy her legs looked in those damn shorts as she walked over to me. I eased myself up on the pillow and replied, “Yeah, I could eat.”