Seventeen
"Would you two stop fucking fussing – I'm not a child!" Eden snapped, trying to get up from the examination bed in one of the gym's rooms reserved for medical treatment, even as Seth firmly pushed her back down.
"You were unconscious!" her worried brother shot back.
"I just fainted for a second. Pushed myself too hard, let myself get dehydrated. Stupid, I know."
Seth gave her a long searching look, trying to establish if that was the truth, and then headed for the door. "I'm gonna go get you some water. Don't. Move."
With a strangled little noise of frustration, Eden slumped back on the bed and let her eyes close.
"Gave us a bit o' a fright there, lass."
She cracked an eyelid to look at the watchful biker stood by the open door with a shoulder cocked against the wall. "I don't need a minder."
Chibs looked like he was about to open his mouth to say something, but then seemed to think the better of it and looked away ruefully. "Want me to go?"
"Yes," Eden said, trying to stop her face falling as he turned, however reluctantly, to do just that. "I mean, no. Maybe. I don't know."
She let her eyes squeeze shut, her mind racing and her head throbbing where she must have hit it on the ground when she fell. She opened them again at the feel of his weight perching on the side of the narrow bed, just as his hand reached out to smooth a lock of hair back from her face, his fingers caressing her cheek.
"I'm sorry," the Scotsman said quietly. "Listen, those checks … They had to be done, but I am sorry you feel like I broke your trust. I didn't set out to hurt you, pet. Didn't even think your name would come up, not like that."
She couldn't have held out for too long even if she wanted too, not finding herself looking into those warm brown eyes full of concern and regret.
"I get it," Eden sighed finally. "Doesn't mean I have to like it, but I do get it. If I'm honest, I always did. I just …" She trailed off, not really having the words to explain, but it seemed Chibs didn't need her to anyway.
"I know. You think you might … maybe let me try to make it up to you?"
Eden couldn't help smiling slightly despite herself at his hopeful little look, leaning into his touch as he palmed her cheek, his thumb stroking over her skin. "Maybe."
"Well, how about you start by letting me take a wee look at that bump on your head?" Chibs suggested. "I know I ain't exactly on your level, but I've patched up a fair few people in my time."
"I'll be fine," she tried to reassure him, but she consented when she saw he wasn't going to take no for an answer, sitting up and leaning forward so he could see to probe the admittedly sensitive area on the back of her head with gentle fingers. "Did you carry me in here?"
"Aye. Could hardly just leave ya lying outside, could I? Don't think you'll need stitches," he finally determined, before his hand beneath her chin tilted her gaze back up to meet his. "Just gotta look after yerself better, lass. Or let someone else do it …"
She gave him a wry look at that, but found that she didn't pull away although he gave her every opportunity to as he leaned in slowly and his mouth sought out hers for an unexpectedly tender kiss that only ended abruptly at the groan from the doorway.
"Seriously?" Seth said, heaving a long-suffering sigh. "I dunno whether to give you this water, or chuck it over the pair of you …"
Having watched the biker president saunter into the garage the next morning whistling cheerfully, Lyla sat back at the office desk and shook her head with a little smirk.
"What?" he demanded, on spotting her watching him.
"Nothing!"
"Can a man not just be happy at his work?"
"Of course," she smiled. "So you made up with Eden then?"
"Dunno what ya mean," Chibs replied, a quick tell-tale grin making his cheeks dimple. "Any calls for me, or anything I need to know about, darlin'?"
"Uh, got a few things that need your signature when you've got a minute," Lyla said, turning her attention back to her work and rifling through the stacks of paperwork in front of her. "Also had … um, something of a distress call from Flick."
"Ah, shite," the president sighed, dropping down into the chair opposite her and pinching the bridge of his nose. "What fresh hell's she looking to drop in my lap now?"
"Not yours. Mine," Lyla said, with a roll of her eyes. "Although I am definitely tempted to send you instead. Ugh, it's something and nothing – feuding talent threatening to shut down production. You don't need to worry about it, as long as you can spare me from here for a few hours to go see if I can help sort this shit out."
Chibs shrugged easily. "Aye, we'll manage here. Wee bit surprised Flick can't handle it though – way I hear it, she's a bit o' a ball-breaker. Literally."
"Not always helpful on a porn set," the former actress said wryly. "I'll finish getting a few things in order here, then head over to Red Woody. Hopefully I won't be too long. Thought I might see if Eden's free for lunch after though, seeing as she's stuck on late shifts."
"I'm sure she'd like that," Chibs smiled, looking like he maybe had more to say as he got up to go, but seeming to think the better of it, although he still hovered in the office until Lyla set down her pen again.
"You want me to explain a few things to her? About the club, how things work around here?" she asked. "What she might be letting herself in for?"
"I dunno … Maybe," he said, sitting back down again heavily, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees as he looked at her almost bashfully. "D'ya think I'm being a daft fucking eejit? Aul' man like me chasing after a girl like her?"
"Chibs …" Lyla sighed, a fond smile on her face.
"Don't you go telling me what you think I wanna hear, love, just 'cause we're friends, or 'cause o' the patch, or me being your boss, or any o' that shite," he insisted. "I ain't gonna hold it against you if you tell me the truth."
"Well, in that case …" she started seriously, feeling bad for playing with him when she saw him try to hide how his face had fallen at that and trailing off to get up from her seat and go over to drop a little kiss on the top of his head. "She'd be lucky to have you," she said firmly, pulling him to his feet and poking an almost scolding finger in his chest. "I mean it, Chibs. Take it from me, chicks like their bad boys with a soft centre, and you, honey, are positively gooey in the middle."
"Jesus, don't fucking tell anyone that – I got a reputation to protect here," he declared, feigning horror before tugging her into an affectionate hug. "What would I do without you, huh, sweetheart?" he demanded roughly, planting a kiss on her cheek. "Love you, Ly."
"Love you too," she smiled softly. "Now, go away so I can actually get some work done."
"Yes, ma'am," he grinned.
Having finally gotten the Sam's Yard paperwork into some kind of shape, Lyla left TO in charge of the garage and, on Chibs' orders, took Rat with her to go visit Red Woody – not that either of them were prepared for the scene that greeted them.
"What the hell is going on?" she demanded, hands on her hips, trying to make herself heard over the blazing row being conducted at full volume by what seemed like half the cast and crew of the porn studio's latest production. Rat just stood, wide-eyed, by her side and reluctant to wade in. "Hey!"
Finally spurred into action, Rat took a step forward, shoved his fingers in his mouth and emitted a piercing whistle. "Shut the fuck up!" he shouted. "Lyla asked you a question …"
After a moment's consideration, Flick Devine came storming out of the thick of the ruckus that had at least died down for the moment and marched straight up to the hapless biker, blue eyes blazing. "Word to the wise, biker boy," she seethed. "Tell me to shut the fuck up again and I will fuck you up – and not in a way you'll enjoy. Capiche?"
"Flick," Lyla intervened, as Rat gulped nervously. "What's going on? There are reps from some distribution companies sitting in reception probably wondering the same thing."
The new director grimaced. "Shit, I tried to tell them to keep it down. Keeping this under wraps is why I called you in the first place. Guess you could call it a workplace romance gone wrong ..."
"That's it?" her predecessor frowned. "Seriously?"
"It was. Until these stupid bitches had to take it too far and bring their rival lovers bullshit onto my set."
"I still don't see the problem. Tell them to get their shit together or-"
"Maybe I should just show you," Flick said grimly.
"Holy shit," Rat exhaled. "They're like a human pretzel."
"Not helpful, Rat," Lyla sighed, taking in the distinctly X-rated scene in front of them. "Okay, give me the cliff notes version …"
One of the half-naked porn stars opened her mouth to contribute, only to be silenced by a death glare from Flick. "Oh no, not a word from you, bitch," she scowled, before turning back to Lyla. "So, it transpires that both these charming ladies have been banging Dr Humps-A-Lot here in their down time. And instead of being grown-ups about it, they decided to neglect to tell me their petty jealousies might, just might, cause an issue. So when we got around to shooting the threesome I was telling you about for another instalment of Doctor On Call, these two wound up causing their own little medical emergency."
"I really am in quite a lot of pain," the muscular man at the centre of it all, naked save for the stethoscope around his neck, gasped. "Do you think maybe the explanations could wait until I get some actual help here?!"
"Yeah, why are they still … you know?" Rat asked.
"Well, this one …" Flick started, gesturing to the raven-haired woman seemingly trapped under her two co-stars. "Decided to try to prove some kind of fucked-up point by fucking him like some kind of demented sex-bot. So he's thrown his back out – and possibly broken his dick. And this one …" she broke off to point out the redhead, still wearing the remnants of a very naughty nurse outfit and handcuffed to both her male co-star and the bed. "She decided to bring her own cuffs to play."
Lyla pinched the bridge of her nose, even as Rat turned decidedly pale, having clearly focused on the extent of the injuries sustained in whatever the hell had gone down on the set. "Where's the key?" she asked, already fearing she knew the answer.
"The stupid gash swallowed it," Flick confirmed, glaring daggers at all involved.
"Jesus Christ," Lyla sighed.
"Hey, darlin'," Chibs said, on answering his cell phone as he took his turn supervising the prospects working in the garage. "Porn problem sorted?"
"Not exactly …" came Lyla's voice from the other end of the line. "I need your help."
"I'm flattered, sweetheart," he teased. "But I don't think it's my line o' work-"
"I'm not joking, Chibs. I've had to ask Eden to get over here too."
"What?! You can't put Eden in the middle o' a bloody porn shoot!"
"Don't panic," came the impatient reply. "I'm not trying to recruit your girl – I need her strictly as a medical professional. So can you come or not?"
"Aye, all right, I'm on my way, but-"
"Good. Bring a toolkit."
"What the …? Lyla? Lyla? Jesus Christ."
