Page 6 of Axle
“Don’t move so fast,” a deep voice warned from somewhere to my left. “It’ll take you a minute to get your wits back after a crash like that.”
My head turned toward the sound before I could think better of it.
He was leaning against the wall like he owned the space. Which he probably did since he was wearing a Redline Kings MC vest and I’d just crashed into their president’s track.
He was older than me and tall enough that even from across the room, I had to look up. His broad shoulders tapered to a lean, sculpted frame under a black tee. He had dark hair, a close-cropped beard, and hazel eyes that tracked me with unsettling precision.
Ink curled up his left forearm, the black-and-white racing flag pattern stark against tanned skin.
“Where’s my bag?” My voice came out hoarse but steady.
He ignored my question. “What’s your name?”
I narrowed my eyes. “I’m not answering unless you give me the duffel.”
A faint curve tugged at the corner of his mouth, though nothing about his gaze softened. “Not happening, angel.”
I refused to give in to the traitorous flutter low in my belly at the sound of that pet name. No matter how much I wanted to, now was the absolute worst time to meet a guy who sparked any kind of interest in me. Let alone one who radiated danger and temptation in equal measure.
“I don’t know who you think you are?—”
He pushed off the wall, crossing the room in two slow, deliberate strides, cutting off my tirade.
“Name,” he repeated, low enough to be a growl.
My pulse thudded, yet not entirely from fear. I didn’t trust the gleam in his eyes that looked more like interest than anger.
And I sure didn’t trust what it did to me.
The door opened before I could tell him exactly what I thought of his bossy attitude. Another man stepped inside, and my attention finally slipped from the guy who’d been holding it far more than I was comfortable with.
I took in more of my surroundings. The mishmash of medical equipment made more sense when he introduced himself. “I’m Cage. Redline Kings club doctor. Just need to check you over again, now that you’re awake.”
His calm voice was at odds with the coiled tension radiating from the man still standing a few feet away.
Cage gestured toward my ribs. “Lift your shirt so I can see what we’re working with.”
Before I could even think about complying, the other guy cut in, his tone leaving no room for argument. “I’ll do it.”
He stepped forward, and suddenly the air between us felt charged. His callused fingers were rough against my skin, but careful, skimming lightly as if he was taking stock of every bruise. My breath caught before I could stop it.
A low sound rumbled up his chest. I couldn’t tell if it was approval or amusement.
“You’re gonna need to step aside so I can get a look, Axle,” Cage remarked, pulling my attention away from the heat that had crept under my skin.
“Axle?” I asked, glancing up at him.
“Mason,” he corrected, his gaze locking with mine in a way that made the rest of the room fade out.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Cage’s lips twitch, like he had something else to say, but one sharp glare from Mason froze him in place.
“I kinda want to confirm I didn’t break anything. Maybe you could—” I tilted my head to the side, and Mason took the hint.
Cage stepped forward, examined my ribs, then checked the rest of me over before straightening with a short nod. “No breaks. Just bruised ribs. You’ll be sore as hell for a while, but you’ll live. The cut on your head bled a lot but wasn’t too bad once I cleaned it up. Didn’t even need stitches, but you’ll want to change that bandage at least once a day, more often if it gets wet or dirty. Considering the video I saw of the crash, you’re damn lucky.”
“Thanks,” I murmured, grateful to be relatively unharmed but not feeling very lucky considering the situation I’d found myself in.
Cage’s gaze flicked between Mason and me, like he could feel the tension between us. “I’ll leave you two to…talk.”
