Making Choices (Black Shamrocks MC Book 2) Read Free Page B

know if I like that. I know I’m small, but I’m not helpless.
    “Well, Lucas, thank you for your help.”
    Not waiting for his reaction to my use of his given name, I walk around him and into the room containing the last patient I need to check before I leave for the night.
    This patient was brought in with two gunshot wounds and had obviously been tortured. It transpired that he’s the son of the President of Lucas’s Motorcycle Club.
    He’s the reason there were a dozen or more bikers prowling the hospital tonight.
    I don’t make it far because Lucas grabs my upper arm gently to halt me.
    When he hauls me against him, I breathe in his spicy scent, any idea I had of resisting his hold flowing from me. My brain literally short circuits from his close proximity.
    “It’s my pleasure. I can’t stand sleazes who abuse their power over women,” he answers, his expression serious, before a sexy grin breaks over his face. “But if you’d like to repay me, have coffee with me when you come back in the morning. I’m gonna be here all night.”
    Surprise engulfs me. This man is gorgeous—impossibly so. I doubt I’m his type at all.
    “Why are you spending the night?” I ignore his offer for coffee.
    Trying to block out the effect having his huge, hard body pressed against mine is causing, I pretend I’m composed. It’s mortifying, but I can feel heat coiling in my core as my body responds to his.
    “Because it’s my job to look after Joel. To make sure nobody hurts him again.”
    “Your job?”
    “Yeah. I make sure everyone in my Club’s safe.”
    I know next to nothing about motorcycle clubs, except what I see on the news and none of that’s been good. Drugs, prostitutes, and guns are not good lifestyle choices, and as someone who constantly deals with the side effects of them, I’m not a fan of anyone involved.
    “Well, in all honesty, Lucas, I don’t see how Joel could be hurt any more than he already has been. He nearly died tonight, and not one of you cooperated with the police when they arrived. You obviously don’t care that he was hurt or about catching whomever did it. It isn’t necessary for anyone to stay the night with him for safety since the damage is already done.”
    My indignation grows when I think about the twenty-one-year-old man lying in a critical but stable condition in the room in front of me.
    Joel O’Brien will be in an induced coma for a week while his body heals from his horrific trauma.
    He was shot twice at close range.
    I was able to assist with the repair of those injuries pretty easily once we removed the bullets. He was lucky that his vital organs were not affected. His other injuries weren’t so straightforward. The tops of his fingers were removed from his left hand, and the main muscles and tendons of his right wrist and hand were severed. It’s highly unlikely that he’ll regain full use of his hands.
    Joel was also stabbed superficially a number of times.
    And then there were the burns all over his body—probably caused by cigarettes.
    It upsets me to even think about the horrible ordeal he suffered through.
    Lucas defends himself in a heated voice. “Fucking hell, Doll. You go right for the jugular, don’t you? What happened to Joel is fucked up, but wasn’t caused by deficiencies in my security. The damn fool practically handed himself to the fuckers.”
    His last statement explodes from him in a loud voice and he thumps his closed fist against the doorframe above my head. My heart jumps at his unexpected violence.
    I take a step away from him, coming to a halt when he pulls me back to him by my arm.
    Looking me dead in the eyes, he continues answering my accusations. “We don’t cooperate with fucking cops. We look after our own. We follow our own rules, so rest assured that the cunts who hurt Joel will be dealt with appropriately.”
    Shrugging my arm from his hold, I ignore his crude words, and head for Joel’s bedside. Checking his chart for the