jewelry?”
Coyote shook his head ferociously before the suggestions even finished. The pain in his expression doubled, his brows dipping into a 'v'. His gaze slid from the room down the corridor to Stella's face. Something glittered beyond the worry in his gaze. “Look, I know this sounds like some shitty lie. I get that.
“But, Bishop could be dying in there. He'd be a fucking idiot to try something like this to get to you. He's never even done hard drugs.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
“ Yes .” The man's tone became hard and unyielding. He licked his lips, never tearing his gaze away from her face. “Hard drugs are a no-go zone for him. I've known him for years, and he's never touched the stuff.”
“E-excuse me, Mr. Davis?” A woman in a white doctor's coat scurried up to the man. His gaze instantly jumped to her, and she paused. She clenched the clipboard to her breast, a sympathetic smile curling at her lips. “Mr. Bishop has stabilized and is awake if you'd like to see him.”
Coyote didn't even nod. His feet plunged him toward the room she waved to, leaving Stella behind. Stella and the woman exchanged looks. The fed smiled and bowed her head, murmuring gratitude. With the pleasantry ironed out, Stella followed the green-eyed man into the recovery room.
Her steps slowed as she neared the windowed wall through which nurses could visually check on ICU patients. Inside one room, Coyote threw his arms around Bishop's shoulders. The leader's pale hands gripped at his club brother's back, fingers digging into his kutte. Muttered confessions of worry and gratitude sifted between the two of them. Stella could only make out Bishop's mop of messy hair slicked with sweat pressed against Coyote's shoulder. She paused in the doorway, suddenly feeling like an intruder.
Just as the woman debated on ducking out of the room, pretending to be ignorant of the touching scene, Bishop's grey eyes peeked over Coyote's shoulder. Almost instantly, he shoved Coyote away with a grunt, “Ah, shit. Who called you?”
“Well, what did you want me to do? Nurses said you were overdosing, and I don't trust that Jackson fuck,” Coyote took a step away, distancing himself from Bishop.
Stella's eyes flicked from Coyote and Bishop, both pink around the cheeks. The federal agent couldn't help but smile. Two big, bad bikers caught in a moment of brotherly relief and love. By a federal agent, no less! Their embarrassment was adorable and palatable. However, the sight of Bishop made her heart heave a little with worry. His skin had gone pallid, his eyes red-rimmed and bloodshot, and – maybe it was her imagination – his lips seemed a little blue.
“I'm going to go call the rest of the club,” the green-eyed man spoke, shattering the tension. His eyes swung between Stella and his leader before landing on Bishop. “You going to be alright in here, boss?”
Bishop nodded, throwing Coyote a thinly veiled glare. The man patted him firmly on the back, the slightest of grins on his lips. As he darted out of the room, he threw a nod to Stella. Bishop narrowed his eyes, wondering what his right-hand man was up to. Just before his IV was sabotaged, Coyote was blustering about ending this flirtation with Stella. What's the first thing he does, though? Call her in. It was mind-boggling and contradictory. However, it was well within the man's frustrating nature.
The bubble of tension and heat grew as Coyote's footfalls died away. Stella couldn't stop staring at Bishop. Somehow, the last few hours apart seemed to age him. Something in her heart twisted, wondering how hard the cocaine had hit his system. Was there permanent damage? Anger at the person who did this to the man razed over her thoughts.
Ignoring her fury and concern, Stella stepped forward. “How are you feeling, Bishop?”
“Like I've been rammed through a meat grinder and pissed out,” the man growled,
Coyote shook his head ferociously before the suggestions even finished. The pain in his expression doubled, his brows dipping into a 'v'. His gaze slid from the room down the corridor to Stella's face. Something glittered beyond the worry in his gaze. “Look, I know this sounds like some shitty lie. I get that.
“But, Bishop could be dying in there. He'd be a fucking idiot to try something like this to get to you. He's never even done hard drugs.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
“ Yes .” The man's tone became hard and unyielding. He licked his lips, never tearing his gaze away from her face. “Hard drugs are a no-go zone for him. I've known him for years, and he's never touched the stuff.”
“E-excuse me, Mr. Davis?” A woman in a white doctor's coat scurried up to the man. His gaze instantly jumped to her, and she paused. She clenched the clipboard to her breast, a sympathetic smile curling at her lips. “Mr. Bishop has stabilized and is awake if you'd like to see him.”
Coyote didn't even nod. His feet plunged him toward the room she waved to, leaving Stella behind. Stella and the woman exchanged looks. The fed smiled and bowed her head, murmuring gratitude. With the pleasantry ironed out, Stella followed the green-eyed man into the recovery room.
Her steps slowed as she neared the windowed wall through which nurses could visually check on ICU patients. Inside one room, Coyote threw his arms around Bishop's shoulders. The leader's pale hands gripped at his club brother's back, fingers digging into his kutte. Muttered confessions of worry and gratitude sifted between the two of them. Stella could only make out Bishop's mop of messy hair slicked with sweat pressed against Coyote's shoulder. She paused in the doorway, suddenly feeling like an intruder.
Just as the woman debated on ducking out of the room, pretending to be ignorant of the touching scene, Bishop's grey eyes peeked over Coyote's shoulder. Almost instantly, he shoved Coyote away with a grunt, “Ah, shit. Who called you?”
“Well, what did you want me to do? Nurses said you were overdosing, and I don't trust that Jackson fuck,” Coyote took a step away, distancing himself from Bishop.
Stella's eyes flicked from Coyote and Bishop, both pink around the cheeks. The federal agent couldn't help but smile. Two big, bad bikers caught in a moment of brotherly relief and love. By a federal agent, no less! Their embarrassment was adorable and palatable. However, the sight of Bishop made her heart heave a little with worry. His skin had gone pallid, his eyes red-rimmed and bloodshot, and – maybe it was her imagination – his lips seemed a little blue.
“I'm going to go call the rest of the club,” the green-eyed man spoke, shattering the tension. His eyes swung between Stella and his leader before landing on Bishop. “You going to be alright in here, boss?”
Bishop nodded, throwing Coyote a thinly veiled glare. The man patted him firmly on the back, the slightest of grins on his lips. As he darted out of the room, he threw a nod to Stella. Bishop narrowed his eyes, wondering what his right-hand man was up to. Just before his IV was sabotaged, Coyote was blustering about ending this flirtation with Stella. What's the first thing he does, though? Call her in. It was mind-boggling and contradictory. However, it was well within the man's frustrating nature.
The bubble of tension and heat grew as Coyote's footfalls died away. Stella couldn't stop staring at Bishop. Somehow, the last few hours apart seemed to age him. Something in her heart twisted, wondering how hard the cocaine had hit his system. Was there permanent damage? Anger at the person who did this to the man razed over her thoughts.
Ignoring her fury and concern, Stella stepped forward. “How are you feeling, Bishop?”
“Like I've been rammed through a meat grinder and pissed out,” the man growled,
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