Blade, p.1
Blade, page 1
BLADE
IRON ROGUES MC
FIONA DAVENPORT
Copyright © 2024 by Fiona Davenport
Cover designed by Elle Christensen.
Edited by Editing4Indies
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Created with Vellum
CONTENTS
Blade
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Epilogue
Epilogue
About the Author
BLADE
Toby “Blade” Barker didn’t plan to claim an old lady like his club president and VP had recently done. As the doctor for the Iron Rogues, his time was rarely his own. But his good intentions went out the window when he met Elise Ayers.
It didn’t matter that the injured beauty was too young for him. Or that she was his club brother’s little sister. All it took was one look for Blade to know that Elise was meant to be his.
1
ELISE
Working on Christmas wasn’t my idea of a good time, but the money was too good to pass up. My brother hadn’t been happy about me spending the day at the bar owned by his motorcycle club, the Iron Rogues, but I finally managed to talk him around. I wouldn’t have felt comfortable celebrating the holiday at the clubhouse with him and his club brothers because I’d only met a few of them since I came to Tennessee a couple of weeks ago. Plus, I needed the money to help cover my expenses because I wasn’t comfortable having Gideon pay for more than my tuition. Something we argued about all the time.
My big brother felt guilty about taking off when he turned eighteen, but I didn’t blame him for leaving me behind with our crappy parents. I was just grateful that Gideon had kept in touch over the years, sending money when he could. And that he had stepped in to make sure I could leave for college when I hadn’t thought it was possible.
I didn’t want to take advantage of him, like our parents had tried when they realized he’d done well for himself. They hated that Gideon had become a biker, but that hadn’t stopped them from asking him for money. Which only made me feel worse for accepting his help. The last thing I wanted was for him to think I was anything like them.
Pulling into the parking lot of The Midnight Rebel, I shook off my thoughts about my family and focused on the Christmas song playing over my radio. I’d only worked a handful of shifts at the bar owned by the Iron Rogues and spent yesterday with my brother instead of working, so I wasn’t sure what to expect on a holiday. I had assumed it wouldn’t be too busy since drinking at a bar wasn’t really a Christmassy pastime, but I realized how wrong I was when I had to park all the way in the back of the lot because the place was packed.
Since I had gotten there early, I sat in my car and listened to some more Christmas carols to psych myself up for my shift. I had turned off my headlights and wasn’t near a light pole, so it must have seemed as though my vehicle was empty because when I opened my door and climbed out, one of the guys who were standing a couple of spots over from me looked startled by my sudden appearance.
“Shit, man.” The tall, thin man facing me dropped a small baggie of white powder on the ground, his hand shaking as he bent over to pick it up.
I gasped as I realized what I had stumbled across—a drug deal.
The dealer glanced over his shoulder to see what had spooked his customer, his beady eyes narrowing and filling with menace when his gaze landed on me. He clenched the cash the other guy had given him in his fist before shoving it into the back pocket of his grungy jeans and muttering, “Don’t worry about this. I’ll take care of her.”
Not liking the sound of that, I swiveled on my foot and jumped back into the driver’s seat of my car. And not a moment too soon because as I slammed the door shut, the drug dealer was close enough to pound his fist against the window. “Get outta there, bitch! You’re not gonna fuck this up for me!”
No way in heck was I going to step foot out of the car while he was anywhere near, especially when he was screaming at me like that. Jabbing my finger against the ignition button, I thanked my lucky stars that Gideon had insisted on buying me a reliable used car for my high school graduation gift. The engine roared to life, and I quickly put the vehicle into reverse to back out of my parking spot. Slamming his palm against the hood of my car, the dealer yelled for me to stop. That was not going to happen.
Instead, I pressed my foot against the gas pedal while watching in my rearview mirror to make sure I didn’t hit anyone as I reversed all the way to the exit of the parking lot. Then I switched into drive as fast as I could and jerked the wheel to turn left onto the street. I wasn’t very familiar with Old Bridge, but Gideon had driven me from the clubhouse to the bar on the day I’d gotten the job. Luckily, I was good with directions and remembered the route he had taken.
My hand trembled as I reached over to the passenger seat to pull my cell phone out of my purse. Unfortunately, my distraction cost me because it gave the dealer the chance to catch up to me and slam into the back of my car. My stuff spilled out of my bag and onto the floorboard of the passenger side, making it impossible for me to call Gideon to let him know what was happening.
The Midnight Rebel was only two miles from the Iron Rogues clubhouse, so I stomped my foot against the gas pedal and tried my best to get there before I got hit again. But I only made it a few more blocks before the other vehicle pulled up alongside me and rammed into my door. I gripped the steering wheel as hard as I could, my knuckles turning white, but it didn’t do any good.
On the third swipe of the drug dealer’s car, I was forced off the road and into the ditch to my right. My airbag went off, protecting my head from hitting the steering wheel, but the contents of my purse that were still on the passenger seat flew up, and something hit my forehead. My engine cut off, and there was a fine dust in the cabin of my car, along with an odd smell in the air.
It took me a moment to shake off my disorientation before I realized the man who had been chasing me was yanking on my door, trying to get it open. If it hadn’t been for the roar of a motorcycle driving toward us, he probably would’ve had enough time to smash in my window and get to me. But when the bike got close enough for the headlight to illuminate the dealer’s face, he hissed, “You better keep your mouth shut, bitch. Or else I’m gonna make you pay for fucking with my business.”
He slammed his fist against my door before racing back to his car and taking off. I slumped in my seat, taking a few slow breaths to settle my racing heart. But my pulse jumped again when I heard a deep voice call, “Need help?”
Blinking up at the man climbing off his bike, I lifted my hand to my forehead and winced as I brushed my hand against the cut above my brow. My breath caught in my throat when I saw the blood on my fingertips. My eyes widened, and he muttered, “Shit, you’re hurt. Can you open the door for me? Gotta check you over to see if you need an ambulance.”
Looking through my window, I saw the leather vest he was wearing and heaved a sigh of relief. My rescuer was one of my Gideon’s club brothers, Whiskey. I knew he couldn’t be connected to the guy who’d been chasing me because Gideon had told me that the club refused to have anything to do with drugs.
I reached out to unlock the doors with a slight nod. Opening it, he crouched down next to me.
“Can’t believe that bastard had the fucking nerve to hit you and run on our territory.” I winced at the fury in his voice, and he shook his head with a grimace. “Sorry, sweetheart. You don’t have anything to worry about. I get that you have every right to be scared of being around a big, strange guy after what just happened, but you’re safe with me. I swear it.”
“I know.” I offered him a weak smile. “I’m Elise Ayers, Gideon—um…Storm’s—little sister.”
His eyes widened. “No shit?”
“Yeah.”
“Then I’m doubly glad I was running late to the Christmas bash at the clubhouse.” Whiskey undid the buckle on my seat belt and gently lifted it away from my body. “So I was in the right place at the right time to help you. But I shoulda gotten that asshole’s plate number. Your brother is gonna want his head for causing your accident and driving away like that.”
“It wasn’t an accident,” I whispered.
His brows drew together as he echoed, “Not an accident?”
“He followed me from The Midnight Rebel,” I explained. “I thought if I drove fast enough, I could make it to the clubhouse before he forced me off the road, but he was right behind me. I thought I was going to die, but then you showed up and scared him off. I owe you my life. Thank you.”
“Fuck,” he bit out, glancing over his shoulder to glare in the direction the drug dealer’s car had taken off. Then his concerned gaze returned to scan my face. “Are you hurt anywhere other than the cut on your head? I don’t like us being out in the open like this. Want to get you to the clubhouse, where I know you’ll be safe.”
Getting out of here sounded like the perfect plan to me. “Yeah, I’m good to go.”
He helped me out of the car, bending low to sweep my belongings back into my purse and handing it to me before guiding me ove r to his motorcycle. “Your car isn’t safe to drive so you’re gonna have to ride on the back of my bike.”
I’d never been on a motorcycle before—Gideon started riding after he left home—so Whiskey had to show me what to do. It was awkward holding a stranger’s back while blood dripped down my cheek, but at least the ride was quick, and my brother was walking across the parking lot when we pulled inside the gates.
2
BLADE
“Merry Christmas, Blade!” someone called out. I responded with a half-assed wave and a grunt as I ambled toward one of the long tables set up in the kitchen of the Iron Rogues clubhouse. My prez’s old lady had insisted on a party on Christmas Day, and while I would have preferred to be up in my room, passed out in my bed, I didn’t want to disappoint Dahlia or piss off Fox by making her unhappy in any way. But after working a double shift in the ER, I was fucking exhausted. Although the delicious smells of the food being prepared made my stomach growl.
The merriment all around me was getting on my nerves, but it wasn’t anyone’s fault that I was being a grumpy bastard, so I decided to try to avoid further peopling. I fished my phone out of the pocket of my cut and started reading an article about new regenerative medicine technologies.
“You could at least try to have a good time, Blade.”
I glanced up to see Sheila, the old lady of one of my club brothers, grinning at me as she approached the table with a large platter of carved turkey. Dropping my phone, I jumped up to grab the serving plate and set it down for her.
“I’m having a good time,” I muttered, causing her to laugh and pat my cheek as if I were a child, making me roll my eyes good-naturedly.
Sheila’s man, Tank, was one of the oldest active members of the club, having patched long ago when Fox’s dad had been president of the MC. She’d been the only old lady for several years—until recently when our prez and VP—Maverick—both fell hard and fast for their women. She was a natural caretaker, so she tended to “mother” us. And we put up with it because, quite frankly, she was awesome, and we all adored her.
“Too bad Santa didn’t bring you a woman for Christmas,” she teased. “Maybe next year.”
“Santa knows better than that,” I grumbled. “Don’t have time to deal with female shit. No offense.”
Sheila chuckled and winked at me. “None taken. But I’m going to really enjoy seeing some lucky lady knock you on your ass one of these days.” With another giggle, she pivoted and headed back to the cooking area for more food.
I followed her to help, and once the tables were loaded down with our dinner, we sat to eat. Before I’d taken more than a few bites, we were startled by the back door banging against the wall as it was shoved open. Storm—our road captain—stumbled in, carrying a woman in his arms. “Blade!” he shouted. “Need your help. Now!”
I jumped up from my spot at the table and rushed over to Storm, taking the shaking woman from him. When my gaze dropped to her pale face, I froze for a second. Shock flooded my system as my heart thumped hard, and my brain screamed, “Mine!”
She was fucking breathtaking. Staring up at me with deep brown eyes framed with thick black lashes. Long, dark hair hung in waves, cascading over my arm and down her back. She had mouthwatering curves that felt as if they’d been made just for me, fitting her perfectly in my arms and making me hard as a rock. Her rosebud lips were parted slightly, and she wore a similarly stunned expression. However, something else stood out from my quick perusal. She looked slightly familiar.
Raising my gaze to Storm, I grimaced as I realized that I was most likely holding his little sister. The one he’d warned us all off when he’d asked if she could work at The Midnight Rebel during her winter break from college.
Fucking hell.
“Clinic,” I grunted before spinning around and stalking down a hall that led to my medical office. After we entered the building directly behind the clubhouse that housed my clinic, I flipped on the lights before walking straight into the exam room. Reluctant to let her go but knowing I needed to if I wanted to examine her, I set her on the padded table.
“I was in a car accident,” she murmured softly. “I got a little lightheaded on the ride here, but I’m fine. Really.”
“I’ll be the judge of that,” I grunted a little more harshly than I’d intended because her sultry voice had sent streaks of desire straight to my dick.
“Watch it,” Storm growled, but I ignored him and almost smiled when my girl shot him an annoyed glare. Her face softened when she refocused on me, and I suppressed the desire to gather her up in my arms and kiss the hell out of her.
I started at her hairline since I’d noticed a small cut crusted with blood. “This isn’t too deep, but it could use a stitch or two.”
“Stitches?” Storm snapped. “What the hell happened, Elise?”
Elise. Damn, her name was as gorgeous as she was.
“Relax, Gideon. I—”
“Relax? Don’t tell me to relax, El. One of my brothers just brought my baby sister to me all banged up and needing stitches! I want to know what happened and who the fuck I’m going to kill!” He was bellowing by the time he was done, and Elise winced.
Protective anger surged through me, but I didn’t want to make the situation worse, so I dug deep and slipped into professional doctor mode. As much as I could while examining this lush, sexy woman I was determined to keep.
“Storm.” My firm, commanding tone caught his attention, and he glared at me. “She most likely has a splitting headache, and you aren’t helping her by yelling. Or by stressing her out about what happened. She needs you to be calm right now.” Not that I wasn’t as determined as my club brother to find out the details, but my first concern was Elise’s health.
Storm pressed his lips together, his expression remorseful—but no less determined—as he crossed his arms over his chest, then nodded.
A small bruise was forming on her jaw, and I had to fight back the impulse to kiss it, along with any other injuries I encountered. Instead, I focused on her mouth, but then I couldn’t stop thinking about those pouty lips wrapped around my cock.
Shaking my head to dispel the thoughts, I again attempted to put on my doctor's hat and treat her like any other patient. But it didn’t work very well, and as I proceeded to do a thorough check of her body, it was like fucking torture since every inch of her was soft and supple. When I placed a blood pressure cuff on her arm, it felt toned, and I imagined that her grip when she wrapped her hand around my dick would be strong. Her large tits quivered when I pulled aside the neck of her T-shirt to place my stethoscope on her silky skin. I had to fight back a groan when my hands brushed the undersides of her breasts as I felt for broken ribs.
I gently checked her legs for broken bones and found them also surprisingly toned for being so deliciously curvy. I couldn’t wait to feel them squeezing my waist while I was buried deep inside her.
Pathetic, Dr. Barker, I admonished myself. She’s your patient. But really, she was so much more than that. I was simply the only one who knew it at the moment.
Finally, I finished and breathed a sigh of relief, though I was loath to stop touching her. If I didn’t, I would eventually snap, and it wasn’t the time or place to lose my control with Elise.
“Good news is that your injuries are minor,” I told her with a smile. “Ankle is bruised. Not sprained or broken. Bad news is that you will likely be pretty sore tomorrow. Gonna stitch that cut and wrap your ankle. I’ll give you a couple of mild painkillers to help soothe your aches. A hot bath would also help.”
Hell. Now I was picturing her wet and naked with suds gliding down her milky skin…
A knock sounded on the door, pulling me away from the images that would haunt me until I could see the real thing.
“Everybody decent?” Whiskey called from the other side.
“Yeah,” Storm grunted as he twisted the knob to open the door and let our sergeant at arms into the room.
All eyes went to Whiskey, but he was staring at Elise, his head cocked to the side.
