I swing my leg over the back of my Harley Davidson Superlow, having checked for the fifth time that my backpack is securely tied to the back of the seat. O’Connor slaps my back. “Gonna miss you, son.”
I return the gray-haired president’s smile. “It’s time I put my degree to some proper use, rather than just patching up injured bikers.” I glance around the compound I’ve called home since I was a kid one last time. “Besides, I’m going for an interview, there’s no guarantee I’ll get the job.”
“Pah! Semantics. You’re damn good at your job, son, and any fucker’d be lucky to have you working for them.” O’Connor pats my back once more and steps back. I say goodbye, waving at the small gathering of MC members who’ve assembled to send me off.
The town I’m heading to, Gallows Hill, is roughly four hours away, five with a pit stop factored in. The time passes quickly as I relish the feeling of the wind ruffling the bit of hair that’s too long to be contained by my helmet, and the thrill I still get when I open the throttle on the long straight highways.
I trained as a nurse straight out of high school, earning a degree with a specialization in physical therapy. My dad had been a member of the Men At Arms MC since he was a kid, and I’d grown up spending my weekends at the compound, watching with interest as the old ladies patched up their men after they’d been in scuffles both large and small. Looking after people is part of my personality, looking after any broken, weak thing really. There are countless birds I’ve nursed back to health over the years, not to mention half-starved dogs, and blinded cats I’ve brought to the compound to look after.
If I get this job, it will mean a whole new life for me. Somewhere new, somewhere no one knows my name or my alliances. I’m not a member—never took the cut—but my life is very much intertwined with the club. Even the hospital I work at lets me get away with pretty much anything because of my association, turning a blind eye when I take bandages, antibiotics, and needles to sew people back together.
The girl I’d spoken to on the phone sounded sweet. She was very excited about the role she was offering. Now all I need to do is get her to overlook my imposing form and just focus on my resume.
I’m approaching the edge of town when another motorbike appears behind me. It’s some flashy Ducati model, the rider wearing red leathers with a matching helmet, black tinted visor pulled down. They attempt to overtake me on a bend, cutting in tight in front of me, making me wobble and skid slightly, as a car hurtles toward us in the opposite direction.
My heart hammers in my chest as I flip them off, roaring an insult after the guy as he speeds off, taking another corner fast and disappearing from sight. By the time I pull up in front of the neat-looking mid-century bungalow, my hands have stopped shaking, and my heart rate has slowed. I kick down the stand of my bike and slip the helmet onto the handlebar.
I stroll up the rosebush-lined pathway, looking appreciatively around at the quiet neighborhood. Rapping my knuckles on the door, it’s ripped open, and I find myself face to face with an intimidating-looking guy who stands eye to eye with my six-foot-four inches. His chin-length black hair frames stormy gray eyes and a scowling expression. “What?”
I raise my eyes in surprise at his brusque welcome, leaning back slightly to glance at the door number that is screwed to the brickwork, just in case I’ve gotten the wrong address.
“Sam!” A cute little brunette pushes him out of the way, slapping his stomach with the back of her hand. “Sorry about him,” she giggles with an adorable eye roll. “You must be Gage. I’m Elizabeth. Or Lizzy. Or Liz. Or Beth. Anything really!” She giggles again, and I can’t help but smile back at her. The looming Goth behind her rolls his eyes, slinging his arm around her shoulders.
“You get used to her.” He offers his hand, and I give it a firm shake, impressed at the strength behind his grip. “And me, I’m assured.”
Beth giggles more, stepping back and waving me in. “Yeah, Mr. Dark and Gloomy here is really all unicorns and cotton candy underneath it all.”
I chuckle, getting a good feeling about these two. “So, I understand the patient isn’t here yet?”
“No, not yet. I didn’t want to move Dad until I had nursing in place. He’s only two hours away though, so I can organize for you to go visit with him if you wanted before you accepted the position?”
I notice Sam subtly nudge his girlfriend, and she blushes. “Um…anyway, I’ll show you around. We just got the annex built, so it’s been designed purely with Dad in mind.”
We walk through the neat bungalow, somehow a cool mix of both their styles, and into the large extension they’d had built. The bedroom is large and bright, with big windows that look out over a well-kept garden, and there’s a spacious en-suite wet room. I walk around, examining the harnesses and equipment they have.
“Wow. I don’t know what I was expecting, but I’ve never been into a residential setting that was as well equipped as a hospital.”
“My twin brother is paraplegic, so I’m well versed in getting people in and out of beds and shit.” Sam leans against the doorjamb, arms crossed tightly across his chest as he watches me.
“Right on.” I bob my head. “Having a family member be aware of what’s involved with looking after someone with high levels of need is useful. It helps with the adjustment period of having the patient home.”
“Christian isn’t that bad,” Beth says, shaking her head at Sam. “He can get around just fine without much help at all. Sam is just overprotective.” She perches on the edge of the bed. “So, Gage, do you want to come and look after my dad?”
I return her sunny smile with my most winning one. “I think I would.”
We arrange to meet her dad the next day so I can introduce myself and get his notes from the doctors at the home where he currently resides.
I get back on my bike and soon find myself at a clean-looking diner, sipping a milkshake.
The job isn’t a live-in position, so now I need to find somewhere to live. My gaze lands on the old-fashioned corkboard filled with postcard adverts.
As I munch on my burger and fries, I read the quaint ads for babysitting jobs and swap meets—one obviously written by an elderly lady seeking a promenade partner for afternoon walks, which I’m tempted to answer.
“Hey, man, I’m looking for a room. Any chance I can interview for this?” The guy turns back around, looking surprised.
“Uh…yeah, sure.” He gestures at the booth I’d just vacated, and we sit down. “Do you smoke?”
“Nope.”
“Do you have a job?”
“Yep.”
He gives me a grin that doesn’t quite reach his eyes and offers me his hand. “Welcome, roomie. The name’s Harley Wood.”
I feel my eyebrows rise in shock as we shake on it. “That’s it?”
Harley shrugs, his wavy brown hair shifting slightly on his shoulders at the movement. “You seem decent enough, and to be honest, if you can pay the rent on time and not stink up my house with cigarette smoke, we’re cool.”
I can’t help but laugh, slightly relieved that things seem to be working out for once. “Gage. Gage Nichols. Nice to meet you, Harley.”
We hang out for a while, getting to know each other over coffee and apple pie. Harley gives me his phone number and address as we leave. He lets out an impressed whistle as I saunter over to my bike.
“Sweet ride, man.”
“Thanks. Do you ride?”
He shakes his head. “A little dirt bike when I was a kid, but never anything like this. You can park it in the garage if you want, I never use it.”
“Thanks. Okay, well, I’ll see you there, then.”
I don’t.
I grunt in pain as my shoulder hits the asphalt, my bike crunching as it slides away from me. The asshole is gone by the time I look up, their taillight a small red dot in the distance.
“Gage! Are you all right, dude?!” Harley runs back from where he’d stopped his car, the engine still running and the driver’s side door wide open.
“Damn, dude,” Harley winces as he looks at the damage. “You need to track that asshole down and demand they pay for the repairs.”
