Bash (Diablo Disciples MC #6)

ONE

Charlotte

Charlotte ‘Lottie, to everyone’ Martin never expected to be blackmailed by a Diablo Disciples biker one time, let alone multiple times this year.

Especially blackmailed by a smiling biker who carried unassuming charisma like an accessory.

A biker she liked, if not for the, you know, blackmail part.

It would be the last time she did a good deed for someone.

That’s what happened when her stupid soft spot engaged. Now look at her. Sneaking around the hospital, stealing things for the biker.

You’d imagine that being in her late twenties, she would have more sense than falling for the old blackmail scam.

“You know, you can buy all this stuff, right? You walk into CVS, and it’s on the shelves. Try Amazon. They’ll bring it right to your door.”

Her heart was beating too fast, afraid that this would be the time she got caught giving medical supplies to the local biker gang. Lottie tossed another box of antiseptic wipes onto the pallet that was half full of similar wound items and stepped back against the ceiling-high shelving with a sigh.

“But it wouldn’t be free.” Denver smiled, looking relaxed. “Casey wants you to come to dinner this week.”

“Tell your wife thank you for the invitation, but no.”

He’d extended the same invite several times, and the answer was the same.

“You ever gonna say yes?”

Fiddling with the end of the braid over her shoulder, Lottie gave the biker a skeptical look. Was he serious? He thought she’d sit at his dinner table.

“Are you serious?” she asked aloud. “Let me remind you, Denver, you came into the ER with a stab wound not so long ago. I was the nurse who treated you. And then you and your biker gang turned my life upside down, and you expect me to come to a friendly dinner?”

He had the audacity to chuckle as he grabbed another sizeable box from the shelf to add to the pallet. All things they could easily buy in bulk.

But no, they had to make her risk losing the only thing she valued, the thing she’d worked her butt off to achieve.

“You like my Casey.”

That wasn’t a lie. But it had been a mistake since she was now in a situation out of her control. The night Denver was brought in with a stab wound, she’d been the nurse to make sure the wife remained calm while they triaged her husband, before he was taken up to surgery. The waiting room was filled with biker after biker for the next few hours, until it was wall-to-wall leather, denim, and thunderous scowls.

Everyone else on shift had feared the club-affiliated people.

But not Lottie, because, months previously, she’d been working in the ICU when one of their other biker brothers had been involved in an explosion and was in a coma for months. She’d gotten to know them all by face, their road name, and what level of behaving they stuck to. So she’d been the one who was sent out to make sure they kept the noise down, told them they couldn’t smoke, and was the on-staff presence when they had questions. Once he’d been out of danger, she’d taken Casey to see her husband. Her unique mix of strength and charm made it impossible not to like her.

It was probably that which had made her do something she never did. She befriended a relative of a patient. And because of that slip, she answered a call for help from Casey several days after Denver had been sent home. One of the younger bikers, she later found out, had accidentally shot himself in the leg, and could she come to their compound to help? Usually, Denver was their in-house medic, and he was incapacitated. She’d told Casey to call 911, but they insisted it wasn’t serious. Okay then, take the guy to the ER. Not possible, Casey had explained calmly, because it was done with an unregistered gun.

During those few days when the biker men and women had filled Denver’s private room and spilled out into the hallway, she’d seen what a family meant. They were there for each other. Sure, they’d been loud, and her colleagues looked to Lottie to wrangle them. She’d done her best, but it never stopped them from being noisy or flirtatious with her. One was incredibly flirty. He always followed her with his smoldering eyes and called her little darling. He even brought her coffee several times a day, but she’d put a closed sign in his face each time he asked her out.

At first, she’d thought it might be a particular biker who’d been hurt, and panic set in. But it wasn’t Bash. He’d been waiting outside in an SUV to take Lottie to the MC territory.

It wasn’t the last time she’d seen Bash. But enough thought about him, the better.

She’d told no one how she’d slowly become infatuated with a man who lived by danger and breaking the law. Bash was unaware of her crush. She dismissed it as silly and expected it to fade soon.

For as much as he’d chased her, she’d run in the opposite direction.

The attraction and spending her free time cyber-stalking a hot guy was one thing, but dating a criminal, after avoiding those types of people for years, was a lot of baggage she didn’t want to deal with.

Even if he had the dreamiest eyes and smile.

He filled out a pair of denim jeans to perfection.

And his voice was rusty and seductive.

Every sighting of him was savored like a fine wine and sometimes taken in with unhealthy gulps.

Lottie was content being single and had no desire to mingle. Her focus was on her career, not her relationship status.

“Yes, I do like your wife, Denver,” Lottie addressed his statement. “Look what you’re doing. You threatened to report me to the hospital board. And you hacked into the camera to lift the footage of me taking stuff from the supply room. So I could help your biker buddy! You’ve used that over my head ever since, so you can help yourself with all this stuff. And I’m supposed to be friends with you guys?”

“Yes.” He said with a calm smile. “It’s nothing personal.”

“It feels a lot personal when you’re threatening my career. I wish I hadn’t been on shift to help any of you that day. And I should have left that idiot with the bullet in his leg.”

Denver chuckled. “Mouse never shuts up about how heroic he was by having a bullet dug out of him.” And then the man in the leather jacket, wearing mirrored shades over his eyes, smiled again. “How much did those cancer care machines cost for the children’s wing? A few million, I reckon?”

Lottie frowned at the redirection of the conversation. “I don’t know, why?”

“And the donations to the same unit that come several times a year, that’s a sizeable chunk of change, isn’t it?”

“It’s a lot, yeah.” Those donations meant it was the best children’s ward in the state.

“The Diablos do that, Lottie. We hold a yearly bike rally and gather donations for the cancer kids. Our old ladies organize local cookouts and bake sales for the town, and we give whatever’s raised to this hospital for the kids. Last year, it was nearly four million. I don’t think they’ll mind if we take a few Band-Aids.” He smirked.

Lottie scoffed and rolled her eyes. She hadn’t realized the children’s oncology unit, which had expanded last year, was down to the Diablos donations.

“I’m sure you claim it on your taxes.”

Denver chuckled. “Don’t know, that ain’t my domain. So stop worrying, yeah? It all balances out.”

Lottie looked at the pile of things he was taking with him this time, and her brow furrowed. “How often are bikers injured if you need all this?”

“We’re accident-prone.” He lied with a straight face. And then. “You ever gonna be nice to my boy?”

“Who’s your boy?” she already knew and dreaded hearing his name.

“The one who sniffs you out like a bloodhound, the one you reject when he asks you out.”

Lottie turned red. She felt it coloring her skin and heating her from the inside. She moved then, walking through the basement storeroom.

Once she was out of there, she didn’t care if Denver got caught red-handed. Though, deep down, she did. Besides the blackmail and the theft, he seemed to be a decent guy with a lovely family. However, if Casey knew about the blackmail, how nice would that make his wife?

“I know a lot of men. That could be anyone.” She snapped and heard Denver chuckling.

“Shit. Don’t let my buddy hear you saying that, or it’ll be more than bullets you dig out of a leg when he goes on a jealous rampage.”

Lottie shivered from the top of her skull to her toes, which curled in her comfortable work Crocs. The idea she could induce that kind of reaction from anyone, least of all from the man she thought was the sexiest thing created since apple pie à la mode, caused her a momentary lapse of logical thought.

“See you next time, Lottie,” Denver called out gently, like they were old friends who hadn’t seen each other in a while.

Not if she could help it, she thought.

She didn’t want to see him or any other swaggering biker again.