Weaken (Motorcycle Club Romance): Axel and Paige 1 (Fallen Idols Motorcycle Club Book 2) Read online

  “Good morning, Paige,” one of the front gate guards greeted me.

  “Hey, Jimmy. It’s too early for good. I’ll let you know after another cup of coffee if anything changes.” I placed my purse and keys on the conveyer belt to be scanned, stepping through the metal detector.

  He chuckled. “Late night?”

  “Something like that.” I signed in, locking my purse in the provided staff locker. “You escorting me to the infirmary today?”

  “I’ve been looking forward to it all morning.” Jimmy held out his arm, and the look in his eyes made me want to shrink into myself, or take a shower. Guess it’s not just the inmates who don’t see many women.

  He’d been subtly flirting with me for months, but I’d been dodging him. I had absolutely no chemistry with Jimmy. No spark whatsoever. He was probably a nice guy, and was fairly attractive, with wavy blond hair and blue eyes, but he just didn’t do it for me. Besides, I wasn’t looking for a relationship. I broke up with my last boyfriend just before entering nursing school, and never really dated much after that. School kept me too busy. Thank God for every girl’s battery operated best friend!

  Jimmy stopped at the door, pausing with his hand on the door handle. He stepped toward me, his tall, beefy frame towering over me. “So, Paige, I was wondering if you had any plans this weekend.”

  Crap. I didn’t want to deal with this. “I’m actually working two twelve’s this weekend. Sucks, huh?”

  “Oh, well, what about next weekend?”

  God, this guy couldn’t take a hint. “Gee, I don’t know. I’ll have to check the schedule. They haven’t posted it yet.”

  Jimmy nodded, shuffling his feet. “Oh, okay. Well, let me know. I was thinking that maybe—”

  “Be right there, Hannah!” I pretended, waving through the window before turning back to Jimmy. “Crap, sorry, Jimmy. Looks like a busy day on tap. We’ll talk later, okay?”

  I didn’t give him a chance to respond before entering the code to the infirmary, and heading inside, being sure to firmly shut the door behind me. I don’t want to hurt the guy’s feelings, or burn bridges at work, but if he keeps pursuing me, I’m going to have to. I didn’t have time for this. I needed to focus on my job, and my job alone.

  The infirmary was actually just one large room containing twelve beds, separated by privacy curtains. We also had two private rooms, mainly used for more severe traumas, or prisoners in isolation, and a back office where we kept supplies, meds, and the computers for charting.

  Hannah, one of three other nurses at the prison, was taking the blood pressure of a patient when I came in. They were the only two here, which hopefully meant a quiet morning where I could just sit, and enjoy my coffee.

  “Morning, Ms. Paige,” he greeted me.

  I paused at the foot of his bed, checking his chart. “Good morning, Wally. You doing okay today?”

  “Eh, this ticker of mine is acting up again. Same shit, another day. But Ms. Hannah here is taking really good care of me.” He smiled a toothless grin, wheezing out a laugh. He was a sweet old man, never uttering a disrespectful word, and had a million stories that put a smile on my face every time I saw him.

  Wally had been a resident of San Quentin for over forty-five years, doing a life sentence for a series of bank robberies back in the day. They never did find the money he stole—over five million in total—and Wally would probably die with his secrets. He had congestive heart failure—end stage, and inmates were at the bottom of the list when it came to transplants.

  I didn’t have to see many of the inmates throughout the day, and I always felt safe knowing there were cameras and armed guards within a few feet. Most of the inmates treated me pretty decently, often giving me a “Yes, ma’am” or “Thank you, Ms. Paige” after I treated them. Every once in a while, I’d get an asshole who thought it was fine to grab my ass or make a lewd comment, but, amazingly, those were few and far between.

  I had just sat down in the office, reviewing Hannah’s notes from the night before, when there was a knock at the door.

  “Nurse Paige? Can you grab that?” Hannah called. She was pushing meds into Wally’s IV, probably another Dobutamine infusion.

  I closed the file I was reading, and headed to the front door to unlock it. Standing on the other side was Officer Bradley, and a prisoner I didn’t recognize. His head was down, long hair hiding his face. Full sleeve tattoos covered both of his arms, and he didn’t have any handcuffs around his wrists, which gave me pause. That wasn’t proper procedure. Bradley must have trusted him to let him walk around freely. I punched in the code, waiting for the beep, before holding the door open.

  “What do we have?” I asked Officer Bradley. I waited until they entered before closing the door completely, and leading them to an empty bed, so I could assess the patient.

  “A scuffle broke out in the mess hall this morning. Mr. Cook here was caught in the crosshairs, and may have reinjured himself—popped a few of his stitches. Nothing too serious.”

  I’d been listening to Officer Bradley, and hadn’t gotten a good look at the prisoner until now. My eyes swept up toward him, and I nearly stumbled. He was mind-blowingly attractive. I mean, downright panty dropping. Tall, toned, and deeply tanned—like he worked outdoors all day, and damn it, if that didn’t make me think of trickles of sweat running down his body, dipping in and out where hard muscles swelled under soft skin.

  I closed my eyes to shake away the inappropriate thought, and focused instead on his face.

  Big mistake.

  His chiseled face was set with a strong jaw, and some few days old scruff on his chin that gave him a carefree sexiness. One deep dimple appeared on his left cheek. His shoulder length chestnut hair was ruffled—probably from his earlier scuffle—giving him an appearance of just working out. Or, worse, an “I just had incredible sex for the last hour” look. I wanted to run my hands through his hair, knotting my fingers in it.

  My gaze travelled down, and met his own. His eyes were so deeply green, it reminded me of the time I went scuba diving off the coast of Belize at the Great Blue Hole. Water that was so deep and clear that it seemed to go right to the center of the earth. Staring into his eyes now, I swear I could see straight into the center of his soul.

  He stared back at me with such intensity that goose bumps broke out over my body. My pulse raced under my skin, and I could feel dampness in my panties, making me want to squirm.

  “You okay, darling?” Officer Bradley asked. I tore my eyes away from the prisoner, and shook my head.

  “Yes, sorry. I just haven’t eaten anything this morning and I think I got a little lightheaded for a second.” I wanted to crawl under a rock and die. This was mortifying. There’s no way either of them couldn’t notice how I was practically drooling. I’m surprised I didn’t start rubbing myself on his leg or something.

  What the hell was I doing? I had been around hot guys before. I’d even dated a model in the fashion industry a few years back, so what made this one draw me in so quickly? Stupid hormones. I blamed it on not getting laid in so long. A long, drawn out date with B.O.B. was in order for tonight, that’s for sure.

  The prisoner chuckled, a knowing smirk on his face, and damn if that wasn’t sexy too. “You want to hop up, and sit here beside me until you feel better? You seem awfully…flushed.”

  “I’m fine,” I lied. “Can you tell me where you’re injured?”

  “May have popped a few of my stitches here.” He pointed to the deep cut above his eye. I’d been so busy staring into them I didn’t notice the injury above them. Idiot! . “I took a few shots to my back, and already had a cracked rib.”

  “I see. Okay,” I gulped. “I’m going to need you to take off your shirt.” Heaven help me. Be professional, I screamed in my head. Seriously, you’re not a teenager!

  “Is that so?” He flashed a grin that only deepened the dimple on his cheek. I concentrated on the injury to his face. It wasn’t too bad, and might only need to be
glued back shut. “You know, you could at least tell me your name first. Buy me dinner?”

  I rolled my eyes. “Sure. I’ll just make a reservation at that exclusive new place: Cell Block F.”

  “You need anything else?” Officer Bradley asked, ignoring the banter. “I’ve gotta take a piss, and check in.”

  I smiled and shook my head. “No, I’ll be okay here.” I glanced into the office to where Hannah was finishing up her paperwork before leaving for the day. She looked exhausted. Working overnights was the pits. Wally was sound asleep waiting for his IV drip to finish its course.

  “Alright, but holler if you need anything, though I doubt this one will give you any trouble. Don’t go provin’ me wrong, Axel,” he warned jokingly, slapping him on his back playfully.

  “Oh, I’ll be a perfect gentleman. You have my word.”

  The two exchanged a look that reeked of something more. Did they know each other? Max turned back to me. “Have a good day, Darling. Just call when you’re ready for me to take him back. ” He made his way to the door, entering his own code, and waiting for the click before walking through.

  “Will do,” I called, but he was already gone. I took a deep breath and turned back to the patient. “Um, I’m going to need your name, so I can pull your file.”

  “I’ll tell if you tell,” he teased.

  I smiled. “Here in this room, I get to ask the questions. No quid pro quo.”

  “Mmm… a girl who knows how to take charge. I like it. The name’s Axel Cook, prisoner ID 28497-B. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” He stuck out his hand.

  I placed my hand in his, assuming he was only going to shake it, when he gripped it tightly, bringing it up to his lips. He stared into my eyes, as I stood frozen, his soft, swollen lips brushing against my knuckles. He held them there, his gaze never leaving my own.

  I clenched inside, desire pooling low in my belly. I’d never been so turned on in my entire twenty-four years. I needed to stop this, and take ahold of the situation before I just threw myself at him.

  “Let me go pull up your chart.” I begrudgingly pulled my hand away, instantly wanting the connection again once I broke it.

  I walked away, feeling the heat from his gaze with every step I took, but I stood strong, and did not turn back. After grabbing my tablet to pull his chart electronically, and waving goodbye to Hannah as she left for the day, I scanned it briefly. Axel Cook, prisoner ID 28497-B. Two counts aggravated assault, one count resisting arrest, and one count disorderly conduct. This was his second time he’d been sentenced. He had been arrested half a dozen times, but the charges never stuck. Though, these charges usually resulted in time in county. I wondered why they moved him up here. He must have pissed someone off.

  I grabbed the needed supplies before heading back to the bed where he sat, drawing the curtain for privacy, since he needed to get partly undressed. Suddenly, the realization dawned that I was alone with him, and I gulped. I took a deep breath, and steeled my resolve. I would not give into baser urges, no matter how great they were. I was neither a caveman nor a teenager, so I’d just have to ignore the evolutionary desire to jump on his lap and ride him until dawn.

  “Okay, Mr. Cook,” I started, in my most professional tone. I would not let his looks get the best of me. I was better than that. “I’m going to examine your injuries. Can you tell me how you were originally injured?”

  He didn’t answer at first, and I could see a battle raging in his eyes. Was it that hard to admit what happened? “There was a guy selling drugs in my neighborhood. I told him to beat it, or I’d beat him. He didn’t. I did. End of story.”

  That wasn’t at all what I expected. “I see. So, how did you end up here if you were just trying to get rid of a drug dealer? I mean, you were doing the right thing in that situation, right?”

  His lips lifted up in a smirk. “Nah, doing the right thing woulda been callin’ the cops and reporting it. I took matters into my own hands. I wasn’t giving him any second chances. Period.”

  “You take neighborhood pride pretty seriously,” I quipped.

  He chuckled. “That’s one way of putting it.”

  I placed a blood-pressure cuff around his very muscular and heavily tattooed arm. “Nice tats. Do they mean something?”

  He straightened both of his arms, examining the full sleeves as he flexed the muscles beneath. “Yes. Each one tells a story. My story. A moment in my history.”

  I looked down at them, wanting to trace my fingers over the intricate designs. They were beautiful, haunting, and just amazing pieces of art. One in particular stood out to me. Between the sugar skulls, and woven among other dark tattoos, sat a black lily. Its petals were falling off, like it was no longer in bloom, and drops of dew fell from them, reminding me of tears. The stem was really just elaborate script that I had to look closer to read, and make out the words. I took his arm into my hands, bringing it closer as I read the words, “’For you I shall live’. It’s beautiful. What’s this one’s story?”

  He flexed his forearm, momentarily closing his eyes at our contact. His face looked sad, like it was a painful memory, and I immediately felt bad for asking. “This one is for my mom. She died when I was a kid. Hit and run.”

  “I’m so sorry. That must have been so hard, growing up without a mom.” I knew that pain all too well, losing my mom to breast cancer last year…it nearly destroyed me. Ripped my heart into shreds, and I still haven’t put the pieces back together yet.

  His whole demeanor changed. Shoulders slumped, and fresh pain flashed in his eyes. I wanted to wrap my arms around him, taking away that pain. He swallowed hard. “It was. But I had my dad. And the rest of my make-shift family.” The sadness left his eyes. “That made it easier. They’re everything to me.”

  “So, you have extended family nearby still?”

  He chuckled. “Somethin’ like that. Yea, we’re all still in the same neighborhood. I see them everyday.”

  He stopped talking, so I could take his temperature, placing the thermometer under his tongue for a minute. “So, is being a neighborhood vigilante your day job, or just a hobby?”

  He smirked. “A hobby, I suppose.”

  “So, what do you do for a living besides hunt down drug dealers?” I turned and wrote his vitals into his chart. Why did this feel like a first date?

  “I do a little of this and that. Bartending, car repairs, stuff like that. I’m in the family business.” He smiled, his dimple deepening, and making my knees weak before turning serious again. “It was more than just the drugs. Dude also hit his old lady, and that’s not something I tolerate. Ever.” He looked into my eyes with an intensity I’ve never felt before. “Women are to be cherished. Revered. Men need to celebrate the soft beauty of a woman, not mar it with their fists. Don’t you agree?”

  I cleared my throat. “That’s… very honorable of you.”

  “Does your husband honor you, Paige?”

  I stared at my watch, as I took his pulse. It was racing as fast as my own. “I’m…not married.”

  A grin spread across his face. “Your boyfriend, then?”

  I shook my head, biting my bottom lip. “No boyfriend. No time for either.”

  “Well, then.” He didn’t even try to hide the lust radiating off of him. It was palpable as it swirled with my own. I needed to get him fixed, and get him out of here, before I gave in.

  “Can you take your shirt off now? I want to check for further injuries before I glue your stitches back together.”

  “Be happy to.” He reached his hand back, and pulled off his shirt in a single motion over his head, revealing broad shoulders, hard abs, and that sexy V that dipped down into the waistband of his prison issued pants.

  Prisoner! My inner voice screamed. He’s a felon, a bad guy. Stop ogling felons! I should be flinching away from him, not swaying toward him. He was exactly the type of guy I usually avoided. And for good reason. I mean, he’s in prison! Yet, I felt no fear at all, and I couldn’t mak
e myself turn away. I wanted him. I wanted to touch him. My fingertips inched toward his skin, crackling with electricity upon making contact. He hissed through his teeth as I trailed over the hard muscles of his back. I lied to myself, saying it was to feel for tenderness, but I couldn’t concentrate on anything except how beautiful he was. Because he was—breathtakingly beautiful. Tiny goose bumps broke out on his skin, and when I looked over, his eyes were shut, a tiny smile on his face.

  A black raven with wings spread wide between his shoulder blades, the words Fallen Idols scrawling through them in beautiful script. His back arched as I touched it.

  “Does it hurt here?” I whispered, gently testing the area near his kidneys.