Rebel Rising: A Rebel Storm MC Romance Page 3

  Road Dawg says, “Just a scratch? Hell, he needed fourteen stitches. Good thing it was across his chest; what if the fuck had cut up that pretty face of his?” That gets a chuckle from around the table. It’s no secret that girls flock to me.

  Prez says, “What were you doing there in the first place. That’s their main joint. The last thing we need right now is to start some bullshit beef with the Soul Crushers.”

  Road Dawg slams his fist down on the table. “I was there on business. Since when do we let anybody tell us where we can or can’t go. There used to be a time when we ran this fucking town. Now we got people moving in on us from all sides. We need to be strong. We need to hit them back hard.”

  Prez looks at him. There’s no hint of emotion on his face. He looks around the table, then sits back in his chair, thinking. The VP is right. Prez knows it. But he’s always looking at things from every angle. Making sure he’s making the smart move. Everybody knows not to interrupt him when he’s thinking.

  Finally, he looks at me. “What do you think, Dylan?”

  It’s not my job to think is what I want to say. I’m good at wrecking shop. I have a reputation for always having anybody’s back, anytime, anywhere. I hit first and ask questions later. “I think we need to fuck them up, Prez.”

  He nods. “Fuck them up, why? Were you and our esteemed Vice President here not in their territory?”

  “We were,” I say. “But we were there on legit business and it wasn’t any concern of theirs. They came at us unprovoked.”

  Prez nods, slowly, then leans back in his chair, looks up at the ceiling, always the chess master. “An eye for eye then,” he says. “Let’s vote on it.”

  “Hang on,” VP says. “Eye for an eye? What? We’re going to slash one of those pussies? And that’s it? They could have really fucked up my man here. We need to hit them hard. Send them a message.”

  Prez ignores him. “Eye for an eye. All in favor?”

  Several hands go up, amongst some grumbling of those that held theirs down. It’s tied and I haven’t cast my vote yet.

  Prez looks at me. “Are you voting no, D?”

  “I’m thinking,” I say.

  We don’t need a war. But the VP is right. That pussy with his broken bottle could have really fucked me up if he had better aim. If he’d slashed my neck, I might have needed a six-foot hole instead of fourteen stitches. That reminds me of Jess. And her brother.

  “I’m voting no,” I say. “We need to hit them hard. And make it hurt.”

  The Prez shrugs. “Okay then. You heard the man. We hit them hard.”

  5

  Jess

  “Oh my god,” Madison says. “I’m so bored.”

  I look up from my board study guide. It’s 1am on a Wednesday and the ER is dead. Which means I get to study. Which means I’m happy.

  “What are you studying?” she asks.

  I know she really doesn’t care but even my made-up case studies are more interesting than sitting around doing nothing. I close the book. “Just going over a few review cases.”

  “You study more than anyone I know,” she says.

  It’s true. But a distraction isn’t so bad at the moment. “What’s new with you?” I ask.

  “I went on a date yesterday,” she says. Her dull tone of voice tells me how it went.

  “That bad?”

  “I had high hopes. He’s a firefighter. He meets my height and weight requirements. What more could a girl want?”

  Height and weight are her first filters for potential dates. Minimum six feet tall and two-hundred pounds. I know all about her taste in men. I date vicariously through her, you could say. “So what was wrong?”

  “We met for coffee. Everything was going okay. No red flags. Then when I’m going to leave, he asks me where I’m going. So I tell him. I’m going to the mall to do some shopping. And then he’s like, well why don’t I come with you? So I’m like, you want to come shopping with me? At the mall? On our first date? I got the hell out of there. Bought some wine on the way home and used my vibrator. It’s so hard to find a decent man.”

  I nod along with her story, not sure what to say when she finishes. “Yeah, tell me about it.” I roll my eyes for effect but I’m not entirely sure what I’m agreeing to.

  “Give me a break,” she says. “You don’t even make an attempt to date.”

  “I don’t have time!” I point to my review book.

  “Don’t give me that. There’s other residents that work here. Even some with healthy, normal social lives. What about that guy that came in last week with the chest lac? Your old high school sweetheart? What was his name?”

  Dylan. I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t thought of him more than once over the past week. Maybe even while I was taking a long, hot bath. “What about him?”

  “Has he come back in? Has he called you?”

  He hasn’t called me. Part of me hopes he lost my number. That he goes to some other hospital to get his stitches out. That we never see each other again. The other part of me wonders what the hell he’s been doing all this time. Why he left without saying goodbye all those years ago. Why he couldn’t pick up the phone. The other part of me wants to feel his body against me one more time.

  I shrug. “I haven’t heard from him.”

  Madison’s eyes light up. “Let’s look his number up in his hospital record.”

  “What?! Hell no.” Misusing patient information for personal reasons is the last thing I’m about to do.

  “Why not? He needs his stitches out right? It’s official medical business. There’s no conflict of interest.”

  “Maybe I don’t want to talk to him.” Maybe I just want to have sex with him. Where the hell are these thoughts coming from? “Besides, it’s one in the morning. He’s probably asleep.”

  “Come on! He’s a freaking biker for God’s sake. He’s probably up all night, riding his motorcycle around, scaring old ladies, wreaking havoc, or whatever the hell it is they do.”

  I laugh. The thought of Dylan ever scaring an old lady is ridiculous. The Dylan I remember would go out of his way to help an old lady. If she needed to cross a street, he would physically pick her up and carry her if that’s what was needed.

  “Come on!” Madison says again.

  I know there’s no stopping this train so I just get on it. What’s the worst that can happen? “Fine.”

  Madison squeals and I have to fight to hold back a grin.

  “But,” I say, “do not let Webber find out we’re doing this. I’m already on her shit list and I don’t want to make it any worse.”

  Madison makes a zipping motion over her lips as she goes to the computer. “What’s his name?”

  “Dylan Riley.” I haven’t had that name in my mouth in years. And I have to admit it feels very, very good.

  “Here it is,” she says. “Give me your phone.”

  “What? Why?”

  “I’m going to text him for you.”

  “Hell no.” My phone is in the front pocket of my white coat and I put my hand over it, protecting it like it’s the Fort Knox of cell phones.

  “Trust me,” she says. “I know what I’m doing.”

  I have to admit, when it comes to guys, it is undoubtedly true that Madison knows what she’s doing way more than I do. Despite her serial dating, and constant Tinder hookups, she has a way with men that I was too busy to ever learn. If a man comes into my life having a heart attack, I know exactly what to do. If he comes in attacking my heart, that’s a whole element of humanity I have almost zero experience with.

  “Shit.” Madison says. “Webber’s coming.”

  I look back over my shoulder and when I feel Madison’s hand shoot into my pocket and snatch my phone out I know I’ve been had.

  Hand, meet forehead.

  “Madison! No…”

  But she’s already typing his number in and I don’t even make an attempt to stop her. The truth is I’m feeling a little excited about the idea.
“What are you saying?”

  “Don’t worry. I’m not going to embarrass you.” Her fingers fly across the screen as she tells me what she’s typing. “Hey… hot… stuff. How’s… your… boo… boo?”

  “Shut up. You’re not writing that.” I take the phone from her right after she hits send. She wasn’t lying. That’s exactly what she said.

  “Because you weren’t going to. Sometimes the mama bird has to push the baby out of the nest to get it to fly.”

  “Do I look like a baby bird to you?” I ask.

  “No. You look like a sexy doc that hasn’t been laid in a long time.”

  Before I can answer her my phone vibrates with a text message.

  Dylan: Who is this?

  “Shit.” I say.

  “Did he respond?” Madison asks. “Let me see.” She tries to steal the phone back but I’m too fast for her this time. Fool me once, shame on you. “He asked who it is. What should I do?”

  Madison rolls her eyes. “Type your name. Then press send.” She says it deliberately, like I’m mentally handicapped.

  Do I really want to do this? Do I really want this in my life? She’s right, I do need to get laid. A glass of wine and a hot bath ain’t doing it for this girl anymore. And I do have some unfinished business with him.

  Me: It’s Jess

  Nothing comes back from him. I’m staring at the phone; I can feel the sweat coming out of the pores on my palm. It’s like I’m in high school again waiting by the phone in the middle of the night, trying to pick it up before my parents hear the ring. That’s how it used to be between us.

  Then I get a message.

  Dylan: Oh hey. What’s up?

  My heart is crushing my ribcage it’s pounding so hard. Why am I so nervous? I’m just a doctor checking up on her patient. Yeah, right.

  Me: At the hospital. Just checking to see how your stitches are. You should probably get them out soon.

  “What’s he saying?” Madison asks.

  “Nothing. It says he’s typing.” I say.

  Finally, his message comes back.

  Dylan: I have a medical question.

  Me: Okay…

  Dylan: You know those commercials for Viagra that say if you have an erection lasting longer than four hours you should seek immediate medical attention?

  I snort. “Read this.”

  Madison starts cracking up.

  “Is he being serious?” I ask.

  “I have no idea,” she says.

  I text back:

  Me: Umm. Yeah. Why?

  Dylan: Is that true or are they just being dramatic?

  I can’t believe I’m having this conversation.

  Me: Yes, it’s definitely true. It’s called priapism. If it goes untreated the penis could become non-functional and worst case scenario the patient could lose the penis.

  “What did you say?” Nurse says.

  “I told him about acute priapism.”

  “Well, congratulations,” she says. “This is officially the least sexy conversation you could have about dicks with him.”

  “Hey, he started it.”

  “Yeah, I know. That’s weird.”

  My phone vibrates.

  Dylan: Holy shit. I’m on my way right now.

  I have to read it twice before I show it to Madison.

  She starts laughing. “Is that a joke?”

  “I hope so. It has to be,” I say. “Right?”

  I’m laughing with her. We’re alone at the front desk, and our laughter feeds off each other until we’re both nearly falling down.

  “Is this a comedy club?”

  I look up to see Webber coming towards us looking like the devil.

  Madison manages to turn her laughing into a coughing fit.

  “Are you alright, Madison?” Webber asks.

  “Yes, ma’am,” she says. “I was just about to go check on a patient.”

  Thanks a lot Madison. Thanks. A. Lot.

  Webber is looking at me now. I’m trying to think of an excuse to leave. Nothing is coming. I’m wracking my brain. Something. Anything. Come on, brain.

  “Jessica,” she says. Nobody calls me Jessica. I hate being called Jessica.

  “Yes?”

  “I’ve been meaning to talk to you and since it seems to be slow right now, I think it’s a good time.”

  Great. What now?

  “Okay.” I wish I could vomit on command. That would be the perfect excuse. Knowing Webber she would just watch me clean it up while lecturing me on maintaining a sterile field.

  “Listen,” she says. “Do you know how many female doctors choose the ER as their specialty.”

  “Not off the top of my head.”

  “Three percent.”

  “Okay,” I say. I have no idea where this is going.

  “There aren’t many of us. And I don’t like it but we have to work even harder than men if we want to compete in here. How many times have you had a patient assume you’re a nurse just because you’re a woman?”

  She does have a point there. “More than I can count.”

  “Exactly. So I hope you can agree that we need to do everything possible to change that stigma against female doctors.”

  I’m not sure I agree there is a stigma against female doctors, but I nod my head. I don’t want to get on her bad side any more than I already am.

  “So, can you do me a favor and make sure to maintain a professional demeanor while you’re at the hospital. I know you and Madison are friends—and that’s wonderful because bonding with the nurses can really help you do your job better—but I think you can agree that giggling like a couple of school girls over your cell phone is not a professional demeanor.”

  I clinch my fists. I want to tell her to look around. Does she see any patients? Anybody at all who cares that we’re laughing? But I don’t. She’s the director. I’m the lowly resident. She holds my career in her hands. If she really wanted to make my life miserable it wouldn’t take much. So I say, “You’re right. Dr. Webber. It won’t happen again.”

  “Okay, great. Well, that was a good chat. I think we’re really going to work well together.” She reaches out. I think maybe she wanted to shake my hand but changed her mind mid-gesture and instead gives me the most awkward pat on the shoulder.

  I force a smile. “Great talking to you too.” My cell phone vibrates in my hand again and I put it behind my back. I wait until Webber walks off to check it:

  Dylan: Almost there.

  6

  Dylan

  “I need a doctor,” I yell.

  Road Dawg stumbles into the ER behind me with Trixie propping him up. Thank God she was around and sober enough to drive us.

  I’m yelling but nobody seems to be paying attention. “This man needs medical attention!”

  The nurse at the front desk—slouched down in her chair—takes one look at the three of us then lazily turns back to her computer.

  I look back at the VP. He’s barely keeping his eyes open. I don’t know if I should laugh or be worried for him. He did it to himself. But damn it, no man should have to lose his dick if it can be helped.

  “Is Jess here?” I ask the nurse. She looks to be about fifty and not impressed by us.

  She raises an eyebrow at me.

  “Dr. Bell?” I say. “Any doctor will do. This man—” I point to the VP. “—has had an erection lasting longer than four hours. He needs immediate medical attention.” Jesus, I sound like a damn commercial.

  “Dylan?” Jess comes walking towards us, her expression all business. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m okay now,” I say, forgetting about Road Dawg for a moment. The whiskey I drank earlier is making me say things I might not otherwise. Or maybe I would. Hell, who am I kidding?

  She looks at the VP and Trixie, then back to me. Her eyes dart down to my crotch before quickly coming back up. “Is everything…” She points at my crotch. “…okay?”

  I laugh. “Yeah, I’m tip-top. It’s my V
P here that’s got the problem. I think he took a few too many little blue pills and, well, he’s got a boner that just won’t quit.”

  Trixie chimes in. “You got to help him doc. He can’t lose his wiener. That’s the only thing he’s got going for him. God knows he wasn’t blessed in the brains department.”

  “Damn it, I’m fine.” The VP’s words come out slurred. He drank probably twice as much as I did. I’m not sure if he even knows where we are.

  “We were celebrating,” I say, “and apparently he celebrated a little too hard. Uh, literally.”

  “Okay. Let’s get him into a room.”

  “Can you help him?”

  “I’ll have to inject his penis with a vasoconstrictor. Limit the blood flow.”

  “Shit,” I say. “You’re going to put a needle in his dick?”

  “It’s either that,” she says, “or risk losing it.”

  I wince. “And that will fix him?”

  “Probably. If it doesn’t, I’ll have to drain the blood from it. And if that doesn’t work I’ll have to call the urologist.”

  “Right,” I say. “I’m just going to wait out here. Needles and a guy’s manhood have no business in the same area if you ask me.”

  “No way man,” VP says. “You’re coming in there with me.”

  I look at Jess.

  She shrugs.

  “Fine,” I say. “Let’s get this over with.”

  I try to make small talk with Jess while she works on him and I avoid looking at what she’s doing. Fuck all that.

  The nurse from the night before is in there too. They seem like good friends.

  “Okay,” Jess says finally. “Good news. You’re not going to lose it. But, please don’t do this again.”

  VP throws his hands up in the air. “Thank the lord!” He starts to get up off the bed. “Let me hug you Doc.”

  She jumps back away from him. I don’t blame her; he’s not wearing pants. In the process of dodging Road Dawg, she dropped her pen and when she bends over to pick it up, I can’t help but notice the outline of a thong through her hospital pants.