Page 12 of Ex-Military Biker’s Bride

His phone rings and he glances at the counter. His face changes and he moves away to pick it up.

I sit on his counter, pulling up my bra, then reaching for my shirt.

“Understood,” Lucky says. “No, of course. I appreciate you calling personally. Thank you.”

He puts the phone face down on the counter.

“That was the Lodge.”

“And?”

“They're suspending me from the charter contract. Pending a review. Fuck.” His hands are braced wide on the counter and he isn't looking at me.

A cold chill rises up my spine. “They know you flew that night.”

“Someone must have seen the plane fly out. They’ve done their research fast to track it back to me this quickly.”

I get down off the counter, and my ankle throbs. “Lucky. Rotmere investigating you is not a good thing.”

“Yep.”

“Because of me.”

He turns, taking my face in both hands, and kisses my forehead. He’s so gentle that it makes tears spring to my eyes.

“Make yourself comfortable. I have to go and see Prez.”

“Luke.” I catch his wrist. “What’s the deal with the motorcycle club…who are you? Really?”

He stops in the doorway with his shirt in his hand and his back to me.

“Ask me later,” he says, and walks down the stairs.

Chapter Six

LUCKY

Olivia is curled up on my bed when I come back. I’d worried on the whole drive back that she’d be gone when I arrived. As many questions as I have for her, she’ll have more for me. She knows I’m connected to a MC, and I wouldn’t blame her for calling a cab the second the door closed.

Instead, she’s buried in the covers, wearing my shirt, her bad ankle sticking out on a folded towel. I sit down on the end of the bed and she turns towards me; she’s been crying.

“You asked me a question about how I got these scars and I told you it was a long story. You got time now?”

She sniffs and nods her head.

“I flew medevac. Overseas, Afghanistan.” I lay my hands on my knees, palms facing up. “We went in for a team taking fire, got them all loaded in the bird. We took a round through the fuel line on the way out… I had to put her down in a field maybe a mile in.”

The bed shifts as she moves closer, but she doesn’t touch me.

“Everybody was alive when we hit the ground.” I clear my throat. “The fire was bad. I got six of them clear.”

“Luke.”

“So I went back in for the seventh.” I turn my hands over. They’re shiny with scar tissue across the backs, tight knots over the knuckles. “I got him out, but you see what happened. Still, they gave me the nickname Lucky, so I guess it wasn’t all bad.”

Her hand comes onto my shoulder. Then it slides down over the ruined side of my back and stays there, flat between my shoulder blades.

“Thank you for telling me.”