Owning Destiny (Forsaken Sinners MC Series Book 4)
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Authors: Shelly Morgan
Owning
Destiny
Forsaken Sinners MC Series:
Book Four
By Shelly Morgan
OWNING DESTINY
Copyright © 2016 by Shelly Morgan.
All rights reserved.
First Print Edition: September 2016
Limitless Publishing, LLC
Kailua, HI 96734
Formatting: Limitless Publishing
ISBN-13: 978-1-68058-808-8
ISBN-10: 1-68058-808-7
No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to locales, events, business establishments, or actual persons—living or dead—is entirely coincidental.
Dedication
This book is for my dad―Roger.
Thank you for all the sacrifices you’ve made for me and my sisters. You worked yourself sometimes down to the bone. You barely ever took a day off, not even if you were sick or hurt. You rarely did anything for yourself or spent money on things you wanted, but on things me and my sisters needed. You always put your family before yourself, and though I appreciate everything you’ve done for me, it’s my turn to take care of you now.
Mack’s book is special to me because I think he’s a lot like you; family is everything to him and he’d do anything for them, especially his daughters, even if they aren’t blood. Just like you.
So this book is for you, Daddy. I may never become a millionaire off of this and you may not be able to retire, but if I
did
…I’ve got you.
Love you, Dad.
Mack
You may never walk again.
That’s what the doctor told me almost a month ago, after I took a bullet to the back. Didn’t matter that the surgery went well and they were able to get the lead out and fix some of the damage. It grazed my spine, causing irreparable damage. The doctors said there was nothing more they could do, that it was up to my body now to heal what was broken. But my body is being an uncooperative bitch.
There are days when I swear I feel tingling in my toes, only to feel like I’m sucker punched in the gut when I try—and
fail
—to move my legs. The physical therapist comes in daily to make sure I’m doing my exercises, says it will make me stronger, but it ain’t doing shit except pissing me off even more.
Nothing is working; not the exercises, not the steroids the doctor put me on, and not the
positive thinking
that Dani and the rest of the girls keep saying I need to do. I’m fed up with all this bullshit. I wish that fucker that shot me was still alive so I could kill him myself. With one shot, he was able to take away everything I hold dear—the ability to ride with my brothers, to stand on my own two feet, and to chase my grandchildren around the fucking yard. The simplest fucking things that I took for granted are now gone in a blink of an eye.
The rage takes over, and I grab the nearest thing I can reach and hurl it across the room. I hear the vase of flowers that Harlow left me yesterday shatter against the door. Fuck those flowers and fuck this hospital. Neither are doing me any fucking good.
“What the―” I hear as the door to my room opens and in walks the only bright side to being laid up in this place, but even she can’t seem to shed any light on my mood.
Nurse Rose looks down at the mess I just created on the floor. When she looks up at me, I expect to see pity or disappointment, so when I see fire within her crystal blue depths, I’m thrown off guard. And then she opens that beautiful mouth.
“What the hell is this?” she asks, anger not only evident in her eyes, but her voice as well.
“What does it fucking look like?” I shoot back, just as pissed, if not more so. She only has the mess of glass to pick up. Me? I’ve got my mess of a body and life to deal with. Somehow, I think what I’m dealing with is worse.
“It looks like you had a tantrum and threw those flowers that were given to you by your daughter,” she says, stepping over the mess and crossing over to where I’m sitting up in bed, not even worried about cleaning the shards of glass or wiping up the water.
“A tantrum? You think I’m throwing a fucking tantrum? Let me tell you someth—”
“Yes, a tantrum. And let me tell you something else, Mr. DeVin,” Nurse Rose yells, interrupting me. “I understand that you may be upset over what happened to you, and I don’t even blame you for being discouraged by your progress. It’s normal. But instead of being thankful for what you
do
have, you’re throwing a tantrum like a two-year-old boy! You could have
died
. That bullet could have done so much more than it did. So no, you can’t walk…
yet
. And you have to work harder than you thought you would to get better, but you still have things to be happy about. You have your life. You still have your family. And there is
still
hope that you
will
walk again. So quit acting like a little
bitch
and man the hell up.”
I’m shocked, pissed, and turned on by the way she’s speaking to me. Does she not know who the fuck I am?
“Now you listen, and you listen good,
Tiny Rose Chamberlain
. Yeah, I know who you are. And do you want to know
how
I know who you are? I’m the fucking president of the Forsaken Sinners MC. I’m the thing that nightmares are made of. So when you speak to me, you better watch your tone and address me with the respect I fucking deserve,” I say in a deadly voice; the same voice I use on men twice her size when I need to get my point across. She may be hot as hell, and I may want to fuck the shit out of her—and her sassy mouth—but she’s not dealing with any regular patient. I’m Mack, president of a motorcycle club that’s known near and far.
I expected to see fear written all over her face. Maybe confusion as to how I knew her whole name. But what I get is something else entirely.
Glaring at me, she crosses her arms. “Now it’s
your
turn to listen,
Michael Scott DeVin
. Yeah, I know your full name too. Do you want to know how? Because I’m Nurse fucking Rose,” she says, practically growling her name to show that she’s pissed. “I am the head nurse at this hospital and in charge of your care. I deal with patients like you on a daily basis, so you don’t scare me. I don’t care that you’re a part of some biker club. I don’t even care that you’re the president of said biker club. But if you want me to respect you for your title, then I highly suggest you take into account mine. I will not tolerate you speaking to me in any manner that is rude, threatening, or snide.”
I’m speechless and even more turned on now than I was moments ago. Shit, I think I’m more turned on than I have ever been in my whole life. This woman is something else. She’s sexy, smart, and has a mouth on her. I not only respect her for her job title, but I respect the hell out of her because she stood up to me. She didn’t cower like most people do—men included. But I’ve never had a woman go toe to toe with me. I kind of like it…but hate it at the same time. I’m so used to people doing as I say…not questioning me or talking back.
“Good. Now that you’ve shut up for five seconds, do you want to hear why I came in here?” she says.
Crossing my own arms to match her, I nod. Even though I like the fact she talked back to me and am no longer upset since this has taken my mind off of my problems, I don’t want her to rest easy just yet. I want her guard to stay up because I love watching her like this. I never thought arguing with a woman would make me hot with want.
Letting her arms fall to her sides, her face loses a little of the tightness and anger, but not completely. “Like I said before, I know you’re aggravated and disappointed with the way you’ve been progressing—or rather, lack thereof—I took it upon myself to look for other treatment options. And I think I may have found something that may work. At least, it’s worth a try anyway.”
She stares at me with patience and maybe a little bit of eagerness. When I still haven’t answered, she starts getting irritated.
“Are you going to ignore me now? Did I hurt your feelings or wound your male complex a bit?” The words come out with attitude and mockery, but I also notice a little bit of disappointment and hurt. I wonder if it’s because she doesn’t think I’m interested in this new therapy or trust her knowledge. But she’s way off.
When she huffs out a long sigh and turns around to leave, I finally reply, “What’s the treatment consist of?”
At my question, she stops but doesn’t turn around. She’s probably contemplating whether or not she should tell me what she found or just leave. I wouldn’t blame her if she did. I’m not the easiest person to get along with on a normal day. But with everything that’s going on now, I’m probably not her favorite patient. If I was even her favorite in the first place.
After standing there silent with her back facing me, she finally turns around. She doesn’t move to come closer again, but at least she didn’t leave.
“Massage therapy. Some studies show that if you massage the area where the damage is, it may stimulate the nerves and muscles enough to allow feeling and movement back into the parts that are affected with possible paralysis. I have no idea if it will work or not, but I think it’s definitely worth a shot.”
I don’t know what to think about what she just told me. Nothing else has worked, so why this? And if this was an option, why hasn’t the doctor suggested it already? But she’s right; it is worth a try. It’s not like I have anything to lose. I’m not going to get my hopes up though; it probably won’t work anyway.
“Okay. I’ll try it. Where do I need to go and who should I call to make the appointment? I have no idea where there’s a place that would do that, and it doesn’t sound like something the hospital would do.”
A small smile plays on her lips after I speak and I wonder why it’s there. Is she just happy because I’m agreeing or is there something more?
“Actually, I’ll be the one doing the massages for you. I majored in nursing, but I also have a license in massage therapy and medical massage,” she says with pride.
The only thing I can do is stare at her. Everything that’s happened in the last five minutes is enough to make me dizzy.
When her face falls from my lack of response, I snap out of it. I don’t want her to feel even an ounce of regret or see any of that pride I saw in her eyes fade because of me. She has every right to be proud of her accomplishments. Some people can’t even make it through nursing school. But she not only did that, but she added classes on top of her already heavy load. I’m finding that this woman is pretty fucking amazing.
“When do we start?” I ask, eager for her to touch me, eager for her to work her magic on my body.
With resolve and determination, she steps forward, rubbing her hands together. “Right now.”
***
Over the next few weeks, Rose and I get in a routine. I can’t say that it’s a comfortable one, but I look forward to it every day. We’re more comfortable with each other after our showdown. It’s feels nice—
normal
even, considering the circumstances.
She comes into my room at two o’clock every day. She’s never early and never late. One day I asked her if she stands outside my door waiting until the exact moment her watch hits two. She didn’t laugh or blush or even shrug it off like I thought she would. Instead, she just said, “No, I’m just very good at timing things.” I didn’t question her or make fun of her because I have to admit it’s a quality I like about her. It means she’s dependable, and when you’re in a position like mine, you want dependable.
When it’s one-fifty-nine, I sit up in bed and stare at the door with a smile on my face, waiting for her to come walking in with a handful of oils and
special lotion
, as she likes to call it. But when the door opens and in walks my brothers Blaze, Louie, Toby, Skinner, Jax, and Tom Tom, I feel a pang of disappointment because it’s not her. I don’t think I’ve ever been disappointed when it comes to my brothers, and it pisses me off that she’s made me feel this way now.
“How are ya, brother?” Blaze asks as he sits down beside my bed.
Louie takes a seat on my other side, Toby stands off behind him, Tom Tom is beside Blaze, Skinner has plopped down onto the small couch in the room, looking exhausted, and Jax stands in the distance beside the door.
Shaking the anger and disappointment off, I turn toward Blaze. “I’ll be better once I can get out of this bed and walk around on my own two feet instead of being fucking wheeled around everywhere.” Every time a nurse has to help me get in and out of bed, every time they have to help me do the basic everyday tasks that I can no longer do myself, or every time I see one of my brothers walk out of my room, a little piece of myself withers away.
Will I ever be able to walk out of this hospital, or will I be riding out of here on four little wheels?
“We saw Nurse Rose outside your door before we came in. She says you’re progressing well. And it sounds like you’ll be able to come home in a few days if all goes well. Maybe even as soon as tomorrow. We can hire someone to come to the clubhouse to continue your care.” Louie is the one to speak this time.
My ears perk up at the sound of Rose’s name. I barely even register what else he said. I can’t stop thinking about her outside my door. A rush of anger washes over me. They got to see her before I did. And what’s more, my brothers are preventing her from entering my room. I know it’s irrational to be angry at them, especially when I’m sure the reason they’re all here is for club business, but still. I need my dose of sunshine in this never-ending darkness.
But then the rest of Louie’s words start to sink in. “Wait, what do you mean I’ll be able to go home in a few days? I can’t fuckin’ walk! I can’t even feel my goddamn legs,” I yell, the anger from missing my daily dose of Rose now morphing into anger about my lack of ability.
“Mack, brother, I can understand that you are pissed. Shit, I’m pissed
for
you. But the progress you’ve made in the last couple of weeks is more than you made in the month since you’ve been shot. Being at home and continuing your physical therapy, you’ll be walking in no time,” Tom Tom says, and I know he’s right. But fuck me, I still can’t help but be angry. I just don’t know if I’m angry because I still can’t walk and may not be able to like I want to again, if I’m mad because I still haven’t laid eyes on my sexy-as-fuck nurse,
or
maybe it’s because I’ll be leaving here soon and that means I’ll be leaving the only thing that has brightened up my days since getting a bullet in the back. Well, besides my family, that is.