"Fuck-" Tig prayed for calm. "Jesus, that hurts."
Jax shut his mobile. "I called Tara. She's on her way. Your woman's with her."
My woman. Tig scowled. "I told you not to call her."
"Your mouth, yes." Gemma patted his arm. "But that wasn't what your eyes were saying, baby."
His scowl deepened but he didn't argue. He was disgusted with himself. Since when did he need a woman to fawn over him? Since you met the right one.
The fact that he'd been shot stung too. Fucking prospects had been cleaning the artillery and he'd been in the wrong place at the wrong time. Shot to his damned left shoulder.
"I'm going to fucking kill him."
"Calm down Tigger, I don't think that'll be necessary," Gemma soothed. "Maybe a shot clean through the leg will teach him to be more careful."
"Clean through his balls. He's fucking dead."
Morena came rushing in, Tara following closely behind. She searched frantically until she saw him on one of the bar stools.
"What happened?" She started touching, probing and examining him.
Tig snorted.
"Overeager prospects." Jax couldn't stop his broad, devilish grin. "It was an accident."
"I'm killing him," Tig maintained.
She glared at him. "You're not killing anyone." The wound wasn't fatal. "Come on, up! I need to get the bullet out."
"Use Jax's old room. There's a bathroom nearby." Tara led the way.
Alone, Tig sat on the edge of Jax's old bed and looked at her. She hadn't said anything since they'd been left alone, stoically going about her business of tending to his shoulder. And she wasn't being very gentle this time.
"Ouch! Jesus, some tenderness."
She just glowered at him.
"Morena, come on, darlin'," he coaxed. "Just a little accident, is all." He couldn't believe he'd said that. Phil was dead.
"You seem to be in a hell of a lot of accidents. And I seem to be the cleanup crew."
"Shit happens. Ouch! Christ woman."
"Sorry." The bullet was out and she cleaned and closed the wound. "You'll live."
"Thanks." Tig eyed her warily. She was packing up her supplies and looked to be contemplating something heavy. Then she faced him and planted her hands on her hips.
He eyed her cautiously.
"I'm in love with you," she blurted out.
Speechless. It was the very last thing he'd expected her to say. His eyes bulged and his mouth dropped open before he realised it and snapped it shut. It didn't ease the dryness in his throat. He realised she was speaking and he'd not heard anything beyond her declaration.
"And all this club stuff makes me uneasy, but the thought of not being with you makes me even more uneasy. So I'm putting this out there and you can do with it what you want."
He didn't have words. But the warmest feeling spread from his heart and radiated everywhere.
"But I do have conditions."
He couldn't hold the grin back and so the corners of his eyes wrinkled. "You have fucking conditions attached to being with me?"
She ticked them off on her fingers. "No whores. No porn. I know you have... things to do out at Caracara but hands off the whores. No secrets."
"You know, Old Ladies usually make these kinds of demands."
She just continued. "You come home to me at night. If you can't, you let me know. You try not to get yourself into danger, although I already know that's not going to help."
"Morena."
"I quit as your maid. For real this time. But I'm hoping you might have a vacancy for an Old Lady." Despite her bravado, he could see her smile was vulnerable.
He just gestured to his lap and she raised her eyebrow.
"Fucked." He signalled to his arm. "Come here baby. Please." He added the latter when her brow had hooked higher.
She gingerly sat on his lap, trying not to jar his shoulder.
He took a moment to gather his thoughts. This wasn't what he did. He didn't get deep with women. He didn't explain himself or his motives. But he wanted to with her.
"I'm damaged goods, sweetheart." He saw her eyes flash. "It's true. I am. I'm fucked up in ways you can't even imagine. Christ knows, I don't believe I deserve you." He placed a silencing finger against her lips. "I don't," he said firmly. "But somehow you make me want to be less of a fucking bastard."
Morena touched his face. "You're not hopeless, Alex."
She'd called him by his given name. Jesus, the look on her face. She made him want to believe.
"I think you're about the only person who believes that. I don't know what I can promise, Morena. Besides for this club, I haven't been loyal to anyone."
"Then make me one promise only." She kissed his cheek. His nose. "Never lie." His lips. "That's all."
He grinned. "What about the list?" His hand roamed under her blue scrub top.
She wound her arms around his neck and bit his ear playfully. "I'm working up to that."
He didn't know how he had gotten this lucky. He'd whored, killed and done all manner of horrible. But someone had decided it was fitting for her to be meant for him. Don't fuck it up.
Despite the discomfort, he wound his arms around her and fell backwards on the bed. Morena straddled him and he thread his fingers through her hair, pulling her lips back to his. She lay down on top of him, keeping her weight off the injured side of his body.
"Let's have sex," she whispered to him.
Tig pushed the hair out of her face. "Nah sweetheart, you got it wrong."
"Do I now?" She was beautiful to him. "I love you, Trager."
His chest constricted. "It's make love."
She kissed his chin. "Love ha?"
His throat tightened and he nodded. "Love."