and here she was passed out. He felt like a fucking pervert, especially when his guys were standing around him and could smell his arousal for her. Jagger scrubbed a hand over his face, turned away from her, and headed out of the room and shut the door behind him. His crew followed suit. When she woke up they had a lot of questions for her. She couldn’t stay at the clubhouse any longer than it took to heal her shoulder. The thought of her leaving had his bear getting a bit pissed. No, this female made him feel unstable, and that was a complication Jagger did not need in his life, least of all now. What he needed was a hard drink to wash away the death of today, as well as the effects this female was having on not only his animal side, but the roughened MC human side as well.
****
Sonya sat up quickly, but doing that had a sharp pain zinging from her shoulder all the way to her arm. She looked at her shoulder, and although the room was dark, and night had clearly fallen as was evident through the window across from her, light from a floodlight outside came through the window. She didn’t have a shirt on, but her bra was intact, and a thick bandage covered her shoulder. It was white, almost seeming to glow in the shadowed room, but a dark stain had seeped through the dressing. Sweat covered her forehead from the pain that throbbed in her arm, and the fact the nightmare she had just experienced was too realistic for her liking. It was hard to breathe through those two things. Everything was vividly fresh in her mind, and her heart thundered.
Where was she? All she remembered was those frighteningly looking MC members that had been covered in blood and wounds, and that seemed to be the only ones left standing after the fight. But then she remembered seeing blood moving down her arm. The prospect had clearly shot her, but after that she couldn’t remember anything. Had those men taken her to their place? If so, why? They obviously knew she was affiliated with Trick, so why would they bring her anywhere when letting her die with the rest of the Wolverines would have been a lot easier and less complicated on their part?
God, all these questions made her head hurt. She covered her forehead with a hand and closed her eyes. Throat parched and desperately in need of some water, Sonya grabbed the sheet pooled at her waist and wrapped it around her body.
The room wasn’t anything spectacular, pretty bare really, but there were a few posters on the wall with naked women straddling Harleys. There was a dresser, a few end tables, and the bed, but that was it. She headed toward the bathroom that was visible because of the light from the outside shining through the open doorway. After turning on the harsh light, she gave her eyesight a minute to adjust and then stared at herself in the mirror. Eh. She looked like death run over twice, especially with her matted hair on one side, the bags under her eyes, and her normally pale complexion looking even pastier. But she was alive, and, she hoped, away from Trick and the Wolverines, so the rest didn’t matter. A stack of hand towels and washcloths were on a shelf in the corner, and she grabbed one.
After washing her face with one of the cloths, mindful of every movement since the pain was enough to have her eyes watering, she tossed the used towel into the hamper. Staring at her reflection once more, she looked at the bandage covered in blood. Picking at the corner until she could grab hold of the edge, she slowly peeled it back to reveal the nasty looking hole in her shoulder. Twisting around, she looked at her back, saw another bandage, and peeled that one away, too. There was an exit wound, and she was at least thankful the bullet wasn’t still in her, or that they had to dig it out.
After pressing the bandage back in place she turned off the light and stepped out of the bathroom, but a very huge form, almost looming by the partially ajar bedroom door, had a squeak of surprise and
****
Sonya sat up quickly, but doing that had a sharp pain zinging from her shoulder all the way to her arm. She looked at her shoulder, and although the room was dark, and night had clearly fallen as was evident through the window across from her, light from a floodlight outside came through the window. She didn’t have a shirt on, but her bra was intact, and a thick bandage covered her shoulder. It was white, almost seeming to glow in the shadowed room, but a dark stain had seeped through the dressing. Sweat covered her forehead from the pain that throbbed in her arm, and the fact the nightmare she had just experienced was too realistic for her liking. It was hard to breathe through those two things. Everything was vividly fresh in her mind, and her heart thundered.
Where was she? All she remembered was those frighteningly looking MC members that had been covered in blood and wounds, and that seemed to be the only ones left standing after the fight. But then she remembered seeing blood moving down her arm. The prospect had clearly shot her, but after that she couldn’t remember anything. Had those men taken her to their place? If so, why? They obviously knew she was affiliated with Trick, so why would they bring her anywhere when letting her die with the rest of the Wolverines would have been a lot easier and less complicated on their part?
God, all these questions made her head hurt. She covered her forehead with a hand and closed her eyes. Throat parched and desperately in need of some water, Sonya grabbed the sheet pooled at her waist and wrapped it around her body.
The room wasn’t anything spectacular, pretty bare really, but there were a few posters on the wall with naked women straddling Harleys. There was a dresser, a few end tables, and the bed, but that was it. She headed toward the bathroom that was visible because of the light from the outside shining through the open doorway. After turning on the harsh light, she gave her eyesight a minute to adjust and then stared at herself in the mirror. Eh. She looked like death run over twice, especially with her matted hair on one side, the bags under her eyes, and her normally pale complexion looking even pastier. But she was alive, and, she hoped, away from Trick and the Wolverines, so the rest didn’t matter. A stack of hand towels and washcloths were on a shelf in the corner, and she grabbed one.
After washing her face with one of the cloths, mindful of every movement since the pain was enough to have her eyes watering, she tossed the used towel into the hamper. Staring at her reflection once more, she looked at the bandage covered in blood. Picking at the corner until she could grab hold of the edge, she slowly peeled it back to reveal the nasty looking hole in her shoulder. Twisting around, she looked at her back, saw another bandage, and peeled that one away, too. There was an exit wound, and she was at least thankful the bullet wasn’t still in her, or that they had to dig it out.
After pressing the bandage back in place she turned off the light and stepped out of the bathroom, but a very huge form, almost looming by the partially ajar bedroom door, had a squeak of surprise and
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