Page 5 of Protective Biker

Diesel

Ishouldn't be jealous whenever she mentions Scout's name. Scout is a 60-year-old man that runs the bar at The Clubhouse. He's a good guy. And I appreciate the fact that Brandy doesn't want to leave him shorthanded.

"Fine, I understand that you want to work." I put my hand on her. I cup her cheek and use my thumb to press against the side of her mouth. "But let's get you cleaned up first."

As if just realizing, she takes her hand and wipes it across her chin and sees the blood there. It's then that she realizes that she's bleeding. I help her up and then lead her to the bed so she can sit on the edge. "Stay right here. I'll be right back."

I walk out of the room, down the hall, and grab the first aid kit before walking back to her. Everything that's happened within the last few minutes replays through my head, and I get tense all over again thinking about walking in and seeing what Axel was doing to her.

She's a strong woman. There's no doubt about it, but I know that this could have a lasting effect on her. I sit next to her on the side of the bed, open the case, and start pulling things out. The sexual attraction between the two of us is mounting, but I tamp it down. She definitely doesn't need me making passes at her right now.

I find the alcohol swabs and start wiping the dried blood off her chin. I look at her with a pained expression on my face. "I'm going to have to clean your cut lip, and it's probably going to burn." She pulls her shoulders back and nods her head. She gives me a nod and looks at me with determination. "I can handle it."

The way she's so strong, it makes me wonder about everything that she's gone through. I know about her dad, and I'm sure she's had to deal with a lot of shit about it. But I know there’s more. The way she carries herself, it’s like she has no choice but to be strong. I clean her up, and she doesn’t even flinch. I then point at her shirt. "What about your shirt? I don't think mine is going to fit you, but I'm sure I can find one for you."

The truth is that one of mine would probably hang off of her and show more skin than she is comfortable with right now. And I hate the thought of her wearing another man's shirt, but she can't go out there with a big rip like the one she has on now.

She shrugs her shoulders as if it's no big deal. She grabs each side of the shirt and knots it together. It shows a little of her skin of her waist between her shirt and pants. "There. It's all fixed," she says.

My mouth runs dry, and I nod my head. "Are you sure that you're okay?”

She nods her head. She opens her mouth to say something but then closes it quickly before turning on her heel and walking out the door. I don't let her get far. I'm right behind her. I have no doubt that the Pres has taken care of Axel, and he's no longer on the premises, but there's still a protective need inside of me that doesn't want to let her out of sight.

As soon as we get to the bar area, it seems that all eyes are on her. Most of the men look at her with either pity or a protective glare in their eyes. A few of them ask how she is, and she thanks them and waves them off. It's good to know that these men have her back.

As soon as Scout sees her, he comes up and pulls her into his arms, holding on to her. "You okay, little bit?"

She nods. "Yeah, I'm fine. I'm ready to get back to work."

Scout shakes his head side to side. "Oh, no way, missy. You have the rest of the night off. You don't worry about a thing. We got this."

I sit down at the bar, not wanting to put a lot of distance between us. I gaze back and forth between her and Scout, wondering what she's going to do. She looks at Scout with a little bit of admiration and then shrugs her shoulders, not arguing with his denial of letting her work.

She walks over to the refrigerator and grabs a bottle of beer and twists off the top. She then walks toward me and puts the beer down in front of me. "Thank you. I didn't say it earlier, but thank you for what you did for me."

I grab her hand and hold on to her. She wants to escape. It’s clear that’s her intention by the worried look on her face. "You don't have to thank me. Why don't you stay for a while?"

She’s holding her back and shoulders ramrod straight. She looks over at the cherries, half naked, dancing across the room. She taps her hand on the table. "No, I should probably go."

I cover her hand with my own. "Sit down with me. I don't like to drink alone."

She looks around the full room with a small smile. "I really wouldn't call this alone."

I give her a pleading look, and she finally sits down, turning in her seat toward me. "What can I get you to drink?" I ask.

She shakes her head. "Nothing."

I tap her hand softly. "Let me get you something to drink."

"No, you just saved me. You're not supposed to be the one buying me a drink."

My thoughts go to earlier, and I frown. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to get that image of Axle holding on to her out of my head.

She tries to laugh it off. "I'll take a water. I don't want to drink. I'm driving."

I stand up and go behind the bar to grab a bottle of water before bringing it back to her. She's quiet. And we both sit there, sipping on our drinks, listening to the music and the people talking around us. "Talk to me," I tell her. "I want to hear your voice."

I know it's a weird request, and she looks at me strangely. "Well, let's see. What do you want to talk about?"

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