Ruining Me: The Insidious Seven MC, Book Two, page 9
I ask a few more questions without looking back at Joel. He answers them all until it comes to the point where I ask him what exactly caused the injury.
“Well, it’s the damnedest thing,” he grunts, a pained sound causing me to finally look at him. And then every piece of professional training leaves my being, replaced with a sex-crazed maniac as I see what he’s doing.
While I had my nose buried in the computer, Joel was unbuttoning his vest and shirt. By the time I looked back up at him, he already had his vest and white shirt completely unbuttoned and pulled down over his good arm. He’s currently pulling it down over his dislocated shoulder now, with a grimace written on his features.
Saliva fills my mouth, causing me to audibly gulp. Unlike Declan, Joel has nothing but bare skin under his shirt. Not a single tattoo mars the golden flesh of his torso, but that doesn’t stop me from staring at him. Everything from his impressive pecs to his ripped abdomen has my teeth chattering for just one nibble. My hungry gaze follows each divot and valley that makes up his cut form. My fingers tremble with the need to trace each and every one until they find the edge of his slacks, just to dip below and feel the bulge he’s hiding from me.
And then he’ll sue you and the hospital for sexual assault. My shrill inner voice scolds me.
Suddenly, I hear a group of voices returning to the ER bay. The chatter of the other nurses and aides coming back from their breaks snaps me out of the moment, and I realize I’ve been locked in a staring match with this complete stranger. I shake myself and take a step back from the computer. It’s obviously been a long shift, and I’m about dead on my feet. At the risk of sounding even more foolish, I decide it’s time for me to back out while I still have a shred of dignity.
“Are you comfortable?” I ask, but I don’t give him time to reply as I back up toward the closed curtain. “I’m going to grab the doctor for you. Someone will be in here shortly to get the rest of your information.”
“But—”
I cut off his objection by pulling the curtain open in one quick yank before stepping out and shoving it back into place. As soon as I’m out of the small space, I feel as though I’m finally able to breathe. I think maybe my altercation with Declan last week may have permanently turned my brain into a pile of goo. I can’t even get through a simple patient intake with a handsome stranger without completely fumbling over myself.
I take a deep breath and turn my back to Joel’s room. I know I’m being a shitty nurse, but I need to distance myself before I do something stupid. Like taking my sexual frustration out on a man who is fourteen years older than me.
I spot one of the younger nurses at the desk and half run toward her. “Maria, can you finish the intake for bed seven, please? I’m going to wake Dr. Haley for a possible dislocated shoulder,” I ask. With her nod, I rush from the emergency bay as if my ass is on fire.
SEVEN
DECLAN
The sounds of Sofee’s hurried footsteps fill the phone’s speaker in my hand. Although I never turned on the video feed to watch her, I could still hear how she stumbled over her words while talking to this Joel guy. The way he made her giggle like a preteen girl made my blood pressure rise when I first heard it. Not to mention when she called him handsome. A deep growl rumbles in my chest as I picture her talking with some strange man.
I’m sitting outside the hospital tonight, watching her, or listening to her from my phone, rather. All of us have the same app installed on our phones that Max designed for us. The Sofee App, better known as TSA, not only ensures that each of us has our own personal listening device but also makes it easier to monitor Sofee when we can’t be with her. With the app, I have access to the hospital camera feed, but I choose not to watch tonight. Even though I want nothing more than to see the man she was flirting with, I still don’t want to see her after what happened last week. Unfortunately, it’s my night to babysit the brat, and since I still have my head on my shoulders, it’s obvious she hasn’t told her brother about what happened last week.
Yet.
I didn’t get much sleep that night. And by much, I mean I didn’t sleep at all. After what I did to Sofee and smashing the glass of bourbon on the wall across the bar, after she slammed her door closed and hid from me, I cleaned up my mess and headed out for the rest of the night. Fearful of what I might have done if I tried to sleep in the room across from hers. I climbed on my bike and just drove around NOLA for hours, trying desperately to get rid of the images of her bending to my will out of my mind.
Even now, I feel the burning sensation on my palms as if they can still sense her warmth from here. The way she melted completely against me, not even attempting to break free from my grasp. She allowed me to move her as I pleased without resistance. It was as if she craved the same thing I did at that moment - to be used as much as I wanted to be the user.
“Dr. Haley, you have a patient waiting for you in bed seven. Possible shoulder dislocation.”
Her hushed voice is barely audible as she tries to wake the attending physician. Her words are muffled as if something is covering the small listening device in her ID badge, but I can still hear her nonetheless.
Just like I could hear every word she spoke to the “handsome” stranger, as she called him. I clench my jaw as I think about her talking to the man I couldn’t see. This Joel McCoy. While it’s fresh in my memory, I swipe out of TSA and text the name to Max before flicking back to the app just as quickly. I want a background check as soon as possible. He may be harmless, but he also might not be. Either way, I intend to find out.
I try to convince myself that my concern is solely for her safety and not driven by jealousy. I’m definitely not envious of the way he made her laugh or how she seemed befuddled by his looks. Why the fuck did she call him handsome? Doesn’t she realize she shouldn't say shit like that to a man if she doesn't want his attention? The idea of her flirting, although poorly, with anyone other than me, makes me thirsty for blood even though I have no right to be.
Sofee isn’t mine and never will be. She’s a free woman who’s allowed to spend any amount of time she wants with other men. But even as I try to make myself believe the words, another force within me howls otherwise.
That stupid primal part inside my soul roars that I’m wrong. That she is mine and she’s just yet to learn that fact. This shadowy part of me wants to do what I did to her last week and so much more. He never wanted me to stop.
He wanted me to pull her lips to mine and punish her for years of torturing the both of us. Salivated for me to taste her tongue before bending her past the point of breaking. To flip her around and shove her up on the bar, rip her scrubs from her hips, and devour her wholly. The first taste of her dripping cunt would have been like being surrounded by a blazing inferno when I’ve been stuck out in a blizzard all my life. She would have ravaged my entire being with her white-hot light when all I’ve ever known is the frigid gloom.
But the part of me that still had rational thought pulled away before I could cross that line. That minuscule slice of my psyche reeled me back in, preventing me from not only ruining her completely but also damaging my relationship with her brother. Liam would never forgive me if I sullied her innocence with my tainted soul.
But even as I contemplate the repercussions of my actions, I find myself caring less and less about the inevitable backlash. Don’t get me wrong, I’d hate to lose the bond Liam and I have created over the years. It’s just that there’s something about the little brat that I can’t get out of my head, and the urge to fuck her out of my system is becoming overpowering.
This past week has been hell. Ever since I had a tiny taste of her, I've been dying for another hit. It's only out of keeping myself busy that I've managed to stay away from her at all. Between scouring my underworld connections for any leads on where Matteo might be holding up, having no luck in that venture, and fixing up one of the apartments above the shop, I've exhausted myself in order to stay away from her. But despite my efforts to stay busy, my thoughts inevitably drift back to her.
I don’t know if it's the fact that she’s literally built like my fucking wet dream or if it’s that she has no qualms about antagonizing me. Or it could also be that she seems like the missing half of me. The half I lost all those years ago when my father slit its throat and buried it in the cold, desolate ground. Maybe on some subconscious level, I’ve always been searching for that tiny sliver of hope that was snatched from me that day.
What if Sofee is that hope? Am I really willing to let the possibility of becoming whole again slip right through my fingers?
Feeling a growl rise within me, I step away from my bike and toss my phone onto the worn leather seat. My skin feels constricted, overheated. The impulse to shed my layers and bare myself to the early morning darkness becomes too much. I quickly rip my leather vest from my shoulders and throw it onto my bike, covering the small device and relieving some of the strain off myself. My fingers comb through my short beard before I drag them up to my eyes, rubbing until dark spots dance behind my closed lids.
What the fuck am I thinking? Of course I’m going to let go of this insane infatuation with Sofee. All the reasons to keep my distance from her still stand true. I’m no good for her, or anyone else for that matter. There’s something ominous that lurks within me that isn’t meant to find joy. The only things that will come from me giving into my infernal urges are sensual gratification and the disintegration of everything she is. I will ruin her.
I may bitch and moan about not liking what she stands for, but at the end of the day, the world is a better place because of people like her. I'm just an unholy, villainous delinquent seeking a way of defiling her light for my own personal gain.
I drag my hand down my face before glancing at my watch. It’s just after five in the morning, almost time for Sofee to end her shift. Good. Even though I’m nowhere near her, I still feel the need to run away. Far away where my depraved, lust-filled thoughts are forced to shut the fuck up.
Muffled words come over the speaker, now buried under my vest. I’ve just gripped the thick leather to retrieve it when headlights from a sleek black Audi grab my attention first. The car pulls into the parking lot and, to my surprise, heads right toward me.
Without thinking twice, I reach behind me and lift my black T-shirt at my lower back. I slide my hand against my overheated skin until my fingers graze the cold metal pressed there. The weight of my Glock becomes a comfort as I curl my hand around the grip.
The car rolls closer and closer still until it comes to a complete stop in front of me. The headlights are almost blinding as I try to see who’s in the driver's seat. When the car finally shuts off and the lights dim, the pistol in my hand nearly compels me to draw it.
What does that say about me that I want to use it more now that I know who’s in that car rather than when it was a mystery?
Romeo grins at me as if I'm the person he wants to see most in the world. I only wish the feeling was mutual.
“I thought I’d find you here,” he says as he steps out of the fancy car and shuts the door. It’s dark out save for the street lights, but I can still see every one of his features as if it were broad daylight.
What he’s wearing tonight is much like what he wore in the meeting last week. Black button-down rolled up to his elbows, pressed pleated slacks, and shiny oxfords. His necklace is still in place, just like the Rolex dripping from his wrist. The twin black crows on the back of his hands still catch my eye, just as they did the first time he walked into the clubhouse. Never having seen them before that day.
My brother always had tattoos, we both did. We were obsessed with them, even when I was still around. I remember the day we went behind Papà's back and got our first of many. We were barely fifteen. Some might argue that we were too young to make decisions that we’d be stuck with for the rest of our lives. But both of us had already lost whatever innocence we once had years before that, having taken the lives of countless men before the idea of drawing timeless artwork on our flesh even crossed our minds.
Fuck what others think about being ready for commitments of the flesh, normal people have never had the right to dictate what we do with our bodies. Unless they have walked in our shoes for a lifetime, they have no right to an opinion.
Though I can’t see the tattoo hidden by his dark shirt, I know the delicate script letters still mar the flesh above his heart. Just as I know the same words adorn mine. Sono con te. A promise we made to one another all those years ago.
If only either of us knew that promise would be broken only a short five years later.
I scowl at my unwanted visitor as I release my grip on my pistol and replace my shirt. Even though I want nothing more than for him to leave me alone, shooting him would only attract unwanted attention. Though, it would make me feel better at the end of the day.
His shiny shoes scrape against the pavement as he walks closer to me. I lean against my bike and cross my arms over my chest. He stops directly in front of me and studies me for a long moment before finally speaking.
“You look like shit, Fratellino,” he says with a hint of humor lilting his tone.
I don’t say a word, even though all I want to do is roar at him for calling me the name I thought I’d scrubbed from my memory. The nickname my brother has always called me, even though he’s only moments older than me. A name that sounds too much like echoes of the past.
“No, Fratellino. Let her go, I beg you.”
Rome’s past plea reverberates through my skull, followed closely by my scream of anguish. I can almost feel his tightened arms around me, holding me back from the brink of damnation. I will the vision away before it consumes me and simply stare at the man I happen to share the same face with, waiting for him to get to the point of this visit.
“Ah,” he smiles and steps closer. “Still the strong and stoic type, I see. I’m glad to see not much has changed.”
“What is it you came here for, Romeo?” I grit out, meaning more than just this morning. I need him to tell me why he’s truly here and get to the point so he can leave my sight. Looking at him is too fucking hard and I don’t have the mental capacity to deal with this shit anymore.
He huffs a laugh before coming closer. “Seeing as I haven't heard from your boss in over a week and you've been dodging my calls, I’m just here to talk,” he says as he slides up next to me and leans his ass against my Harley. I try my best not to snarl at him, knowing it will only lead to the police being called when we eventually go for each other's throats.
The reason he hasn't heard from Owen is that he's letting me call the shots when it comes to working with Rome. It's moments like these that remind me why I follow my club president. He respects me enough to allow me to be the determining factor in deciding whether we work with my brother or not. Even if the logical decision is to do so, if I said no, I know without a doubt Owen will respect my decision.
I watch Romeo carefully as he pulls a half-empty pack of cigarettes from his shirt pocket. He taps the package against his palm until a couple poke out the top. Settling one between his lips, he offers me the other. I turn my nose up at the offer and shake my head in response. He shrugs, replaces the pack, and digs in the pocket of his slacks, producing a small box of matches. The match sizzles and sparks to life as he strikes it and brings the flame to the tip of his smoke. When he inhales deeply, a look of euphoria crosses his dark features.
He blows out the foul-smelling smoke and holds the now-smoldering cigarette in front of him. He looks at it but speaks to me. “Dom keeps telling me I should quit, but it just feels so goddamn good,” he says, mentioning a name I haven’t heard in years.
Dominic Morelli is one of our closest cousins and most likely Rome’s Underboss. Normally, the Underboss is someone of direct bloodline to the Boss, but seeing as I want nothing to do with the family or the title, it likely fell to the closest blood relative. I can understand why Romeo chose him for that position. Dom has always been more like a brother to us and as close to a decent person as you can find in a family like ours. I haven't seen the son of a bitch in years, and I find myself wondering how he is. But I don’t dare ask Rome. Wouldn't want him to think I miss anything about home.
“That and the chances of me making it to my fifties are slim to none. So I may as well enjoy the little things that might kill me one day.” He smiles over at me as he takes another long drag from his smoke. “I like the feeling of having death between my lips. Makes me feel alive,” he breathes.
Behind me, I hear Sofee’s muffled words under my vest. My annoyance flares to life as Rome twists his torso and looks down at it. The urge to rip the phone out from beneath the leather and switch it off is almost overwhelming. For some reason, having Rome here to listen in on her without her knowledge feels like a huge invasion of privacy.
Yeah, right. I laugh at myself inside my mind. As if me listening in isn’t just as bad, if not worse. At least Rome doesn't want to take advantage of her, unlike me.
“Ahh, very sneaky, brother. I may have underestimated the MC’s ability to engage in covert operations,” he nods in the direction of the receiver. “What is the lovely Sofee up to this evening?”
Red rims my vision as he poses the question. My arms crossed over my chest flex as I reign in my urge to pummel him for even speaking her name. “None of your fucking business,” I bite out, malice dripping from each syllable. My jaw ticks and nostrils flare as a wide grin spreads across his face. His brilliant white teeth make a brief appearance before he pulls his gaze away from me.
“You’re still just as transparent as ever.” He clicks his tongue before taking another deep drag from his fag.
Not giving him the satisfaction of a reply, I push away from my bike and stand directly in front of my twin now. Every fiber of my being is screaming at me to eliminate the threat, even if he’s only a threat to me and not the woman I’m supposed to be looking after.
