Tattooed By The Dangerous Biker King

Haley POV:

The next twelve hours were a blur of checking vitals and adjusting IV drips. I didn't sit down once. Every time Prospect Lancaster stirred, I was there, checking his pupils, measuring his output. He woke up briefly around 3 AM, his eyes glassy with pain.

"Water," he croaked.

I held the cup with a straw to his lips, letting him take small sips. "Slowly, Collin. You've been out for a while."

He looked at me, confused, then his gaze drifted to the prospects outside the door. "Where is..." His voice trailed off, too weak to finish.

"You're safe," I said, though I wasn't entirely sure I believed it myself. "Just rest."

He closed his eyes and drifted off again. I sank back into the chair, rubbing my burning eyes. I hadn't heard anything from the outside world.

Around 6 AM, the door swung open without a knock.

I jumped to my feet, my heart leaping into my throat. Elvis Knight stood in the doorway.

He stepped inside, followed by two men in leather cuts. Dr. Arthur Reynolds scurried in behind them, looking like a nervous chihuahua next to a pack of wolves.

"Status report," Knight barked. He wasn't looking at me. He was looking at the bed.

"Vitals are stable, Prez," Dr. Reynolds said, stepping forward. "No signs of infection. The surgery was a success, though we won't know about nerve damage for—"

"I wasn't asking you, Doctor." Knight's voice cut through the room like a blade. He shifted his gaze to me, his eyes pinning me in place. "The nurse. Report."

Reynolds's mouth snapped shut. He took a step back, his face flushing.

Knight finally turned his full gaze to me. Up close, his eyes were even more unnerving. They were a pale, stormy ice-blue, fringed with dark lashes. They assessed me with a clinical detachment that made me feel like a specimen under a microscope.

"Now," he repeated.

I wiped them on my scrubs and forced my voice to stay level. "Prospect Lancaster's heart rate has been consistent, hovering around 72 BPM. Blood pressure 120/80. He woke briefly at 0300 hours, oriented but weak. I administered 2mg of morphine via IV at 0315 for pain management. Urine output is within normal limits."

Knight listened without blinking. His expression didn't change, but his eyes stayed locked on my face. Then, his gaze dropped. It moved down my scrubs, past the name tag pinned to my chest, and landed on the chart in my hands.

Specifically, on the signature line at the bottom.

I watched his face. There was a minuscule shift. A slight narrowing of his eyes. His jaw, already tight, seemed to clench even harder. He stared at the name "Haley Parker" for a beat too long.

Then, just as quickly, the moment passed. He looked back up at my face, his expression once again a mask of stone.

"Acceptable," he said. He turned to Reynolds. "I want the security detail doubled. No one gets within fifty feet of this room without my explicit authorization. Not the clinic administrator, not the mother chapter's president, not even God himself. Is that clear?"

"Y-yes, Prez," Reynolds stammered. "But—"

Knight took a step toward Reynolds. It was a subtle movement, but Reynolds flinched like he'd been struck. "Doctor. I am concerned with keeping this man alive. If you can't manage that, I will find someone who can."

Reynolds paled. "Understood."

Knight turned back to the door. As he passed me, he paused. He didn't look at me, but his voice washed over me, low and cold.

"Do your job, Nurse. Nothing else."

He walked out, his entourage trailing behind him. The door swung shut, and the oppressive weight in the room lifted.

I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding. My hands were shaking. I pressed them flat against the counter to steady them.

"What an ass," I muttered under my breath.

But even as I said it, I couldn't stop thinking about the way he had looked at my name. Like it meant something. Like he recognized it.

The rest of the shift passed without incident. When Kierra came in to relieve me at 7 AM, I practically ran to the locker room. I stripped off my scrubs, tossing them into the hamper, and stepped into the shower. The hot water sluiced over me, washing away the sweat and the antiseptic smell, but it couldn't wash away the memory of those ice-blue eyes.

I dressed in the clothes I had worn to the date—the little black dress and the heels. I looked ridiculous. I felt ridiculous.

The cab ride home was suffocating. The morning traffic was a nightmare, and by the time the taxi pulled into the driveway of my parents' house, my nerves were frayed to the breaking point. I paid the fare, then opened the front door, bracing myself.

"Where have you been?"

The voice came from the living room. I closed my eyes for a second, gathering my patience, before walking in.

My mother, Carol Parker, was sitting on the edge of the sofa. She was still in her housecoat, her arms crossed over her chest. Her face was a mask of barely contained fury.

"I was working," I said, dropping my bag on the entryway table. "There was an emergency at the clinic."

"An emergency?" My mother stood up, her voice rising. "Warren's mother Patty Sullivan called me at six o'clock this morning. Do you know what she said? She said you walked out on Warren in the middle of dinner. You left him sitting there like a fool!"

I rubbed the back of my neck. "Mom, I had to go."

"I don't care if the building was on fire!" Carol Parker shrieked. "You do not walk out on a man like Warren! He makes three hundred thousand dollars a year, Haley! He has a condo in San Francisco! Do you have any idea how hard it is to find a man like that?"

"He's a snob," I said, my voice hardening. "He thinks nurses are beneath him. He told me I should just quit and find a man to support me."

"That's called being a provider!" my mother shot back. "That's what men do! Your father provided for me, and I provided him a home. That's how the world works!"

I looked at my father, Robert Parker, who was sitting in the armchair in the corner, hiding behind his newspaper. He didn't look up. He never did.

"I'm not having this argument," I said, turning toward the stairs. "I've been up for over twenty-four hours. I need sleep."

"You're not going anywhere until we resolve this!" my mother snapped, stepping into my path. "Patty is humiliated. Warren is humiliated. You have ruined our standing in the community!"

"Your standing?" I let out a bitter laugh. "Is that all you care about? What the neighbors think?"

"It's called respect, Haley! Something you clearly know nothing about!" Carol Parker's eyes were blazing. "I have already spoken to Patty. You are going to call Warren, and you are going to apologize to him. Personally."

I stared at my mother in disbelief. "Apologize? For what? "