Page 13 of Harley
Chapter Three.
Oakley
It was hard to relax. Harley had brought me to a genuinely nice hotel near his clubhouse. The room was lovely, with a separate bedroom and a small lounge area.
Harley seemed invested in helping me. But I remained suspicious. Honestly, I didn’t understand why Harley was being so helpful, even if he appeared genuine.
In my world, for the last two years, every single thing had come at a price. It had ever since I’d realised what was in my grandfather’s will. Was I really safe? For now, probably. It would take a while for Reverend Jefferies and my parents to track me down. And using cash would help delay them. But logically, people would have noticed me on the back of Harley’s bike and knowing the ‘let’s film everything culture’, it possibly meant there was a video somewhere.
And the fact Harley had carried me everywhere. That was something that also caught people’s attention.
I winced. As I had escaped with Harley, I’d seen my bloody footprints on the ground. My family would know I was hurt. They’d be looking for that. I wanted a phone to check in on socialmedia to see if there was any footage. Bronson would use that to hunt me down.
But I’d left my cell behind. Actually, no, I hadn’t. Dad had taken it away two months ago when they’d also made me quit my job. Dad had become frightened that I might ask for someone’s help, especially after they foiled what was then the latest escape attempt.
A knock banged on the door. Harley stood and peeked through the peephole before opening it.
“Hello, Doc,” he announced.
“Harley,” a tattooed man said, entering. “Hey there, I’m Doc Paul.”
Doc Paul smiled, and I liked him. There was a warmth about his eyes that set me at ease.
“Hi, Doctor Paul.”
“It’s Doc or Doc Paul. No need to be formal; God knows Rage MC doesn’t stand on formality. Harley informed me that you’ve hurt your feet.”
“She’s cut them bad, Doc,” Harley began, and Doc Paul held a hand up.
“Let Oakley explain, please. And Oakley, everything you tell me is confidential and off the books. As part of my work for the Trusts, I can assign patient numbers, and that’s what I’ve done for you. It’s legit. You’re being treated under the Trusts, although Harley’s offered to foot the bill. Tell me what happened,” Doc Paul said.
I sent Harley a smirk as he glowered for a few seconds at being scolded.
“Basically, I ran about three hundred feet down a pebbled drive that had sharp stones, and they cut my feet up. I was shoeless, so it was quite bad. Harley doctored them when we stopped driving for the night,” I replied.
“Riding,” Harley corrected.
“Sorry, riding,” I repeated.
“What action did you take?” Doc Paul asked, turning to Harley.
Harley quickly explained, and Doc Paul nodded. “Thanks. Now I must ask you some questions, Oakley, would you like Harley to leave?”
“No, if I can’t answer, I’ll say so.”
“These might be uncomfortable,” Doc Paul added, and I realised what he meant.
“Oh, I wasn’t raped or sexually assaulted,” I exclaimed, and Harley’s shoulders relaxed. I hadn’t noticed that’s what he’d been thinking.
“That is good news. Are you hurt anywhere else?” Doc Paul questioned, and I shook my head. He asked me several more questions along that vein and then about allergies and so on. Once Doc Paul was satisfied, he took off the sock and began studying my feet.
“Your right foot is badly infected. I don’t doubt that Harley cleaned this properly, but you need antibiotics, and there’re two cuts that require lancing. Your left foot is also infected, and I’m going to have to lance another wound on that. Looking at them, these will smell quite bad, Oakley. But once lanced, I can clean them out again, and we’ll let them air heal for a bit. Harley needs to wash these four times daily.”
“This is gonna hurt, isn’t it?” I asked, wincing.
“Afraid so, but I’ll numb your feet,” Doc Paul replied, opening his medical bag. He busied himself setting up the syringe and then injected my feet. A blessed numbness came over them, and I relaxed back in the chair and sighed.
“Here,” Harley said, spraying some air freshener. He grabbed the duvet off the bed, wrapped it around me, and then opened the window. A cold wind blew in, but I was grateful when, seconds after, an awful stench rose.
