Making the Break Read online

  “Stop that!” he snapped. “You know it drives me crazy. And you,” he said, casting his gaze at Chrissy. “Go get yourself cleaned up. I’ll be back to get you for dinner.”

  “I can drive myself.” Chrissy crossed her arms defiantly.

  “Boss’ orders.” He glared at her.

  “And you,” he said, turning at last to Saks. “Get out of here.” Marcus looked at Gloria again. “Get in the fucking car.” He muttered more quietly, “What a clusterfuck.”

  “In case you didn’t notice, asshole, my car isn’t working.”

  Marcus crossed his arms and regarded Saks, checking to see if he was telling the truth. “What’s the problem?”

  “Starter.”

  “That’s what the hammer was for?”

  “Yes.”

  “Mamma Mia, I thought you were going to hit one of the girls with it.”

  “I wouldn’t hit any woman,” he turned pointedly to Chrissy, “unless she asked me to.” He snorted and shifted back to Marcus. “Which is why I keep getting the bad end of the deal with these Serafini women.”

  “Hey,” protested Chrissy.

  “Didn’t I tell you to go get cleaned up?” said Marcus, all warning and no patience.

  “Men!” spat Chrissy, throwing her hands in the air. But she walked away and up the steps to her apartment. Saks took one parting look at her behind as the two round globes swayed as she walked. It was too bad this was going to be the last time he saw them. Best thing, buddy, he told himself. But his heart sank as the thought crossed his mind.

  “Do you need help?” asked Marcus.

  The offer surprised Saks. One minute this guy was beating the crap out of him and the next he wanted to help him with his car? “If you can turn the key when I say when?”

  “Sure.” Marcus moved to the driver’s side. “Hey, don’t take what happened personal. It’s my job to protect those girls.”

  “Really? I thought it was your job to whale on me whenever it was convenient.”

  “No, just to protect the girls. You got in the way. A lot.”

  “So you worked for the Serafinis long?”

  Marcus shrugged and Saks opened the car door for him. “A while.” The man of few words slid behind the wheel of Saks’ beater car. He batted the large fuzzy dice Saks hung off the rearview mirror. “Real classy car you got here,” rumbled Marcus with amusement.

  “You’ll find my humor is very nuanced.”

  “What?” said Marcus. He scrunched his face in confusion.

  “Never mind.” Saks rotated his shoulder, which had taken the brunt of the fall. Soreness radiated from the joint. It would be stiff tomorrow.

  During the ridiculous altercation, the hood of the car had fallen. He shook his head. It was his own fault. He’d put off putting in a new hinge. He yanked the hood open again and tapped the starter with the hammer.

  “Try it,” Saks called out.

  Marcus turned the key; the car whined but refused to turn over.

  “Okay, okay, cut it,” said Saks. They’d lose battery power if they let the starter go too long without catching. Saks gave another couple taps to the starter. “Put a little gas to it and try again.”

  The engine sputtered briefly, providing a brief thrill of victory, but ultimately died.

  “Fuck,” spat Saks. “Okay, one more time. After this I’ll call a tow.”

  Marcus did his best to help the engine catch and finally it rumbled to life. Saks kept his head under the hood listening to the sounds, deciding that along with a new starter he needed to check the ignition coils. In a car this old it was easy enough for a coil to go bad, or maybe the ignition wires had gotten corroded.

  Satisfied with his diagnosis and happy the son-of-a-bitch was running, he pulled away from under the hood.

  But not soon enough. The hood banged the top of his head. Sickening pain jolted him as he pulled free of the massive jaws of the car. He stumbled, unable to maintain his balance. In a flash Marcus was at his side with a steadying arm under Saks’ armpit.

  “Shit, man, I heard that! You okay?”

  “I... no,” Saks mumbled. That’s when he blacked out.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  “What the hell did you do to him?”

  Marcus lowered an unconscious Saks to Chrissy’s bed. “I didn’t do nothing to him. His own car attacked him.”

  “His car?” said Chrissy incredulously.

  “The hood fell on him.”

  “Oh, shit! We need to get him to the hospital.”

  “For what? A crack on the head? I got worse playing football in high school.”

  Chrissy held back the snide remark brewing in her head. “Let me look.” Marcus moved out of her way and she sat on the edge of the bed. She did her best to ignore the fluttering of her stomach for the sexy man lying there. She felt instantly ashamed of herself. Saks is hurt, damn it! This was not the time to think of what it would be like to have him between the sheets. Yet the sight of the hard-muscled biker lying on her ruffled white comforter sent her insides into overdrive.

  Tentatively, she ran her fingers through his dark hair. She pursed her lips when she found a growing goose egg at the top backside of the poor man’s skull.

  “Here,” said Gloria as she entered the room with an ice bag. She handed it to Chrissy, who pressed it to the bruise. Saks lay as still as death and it scared the crap out of her.

  “We should get him to a hospital,” said Chrissy.

  “Nah,” said Marcus. “Besides, you girls need to get to your parents’ house. I’ll stay and watch him. Here.” He pulled a set of keys from his pockets. “You drive, Gloria. But be careful. That’s my baby there.”

  Gloria took the keys with a flash of a smile.

  “That’s okay,” said Chrissy. “We’ll take my car. You need yours in case you have to drive him to the hospital.” Chrissy snatched the keys from Gloria’s hand as her younger sister frowned, and tossed them back to Marcus. “We should try to wake him first. If he’s got a concussion he shouldn’t be sleeping.”

  “Oh, he’s not sleeping. He’s out. Like, lights out.” Gloria pointed at Saks’ prone body.

  Chrissy leaned forward and patted Saks’ face. “Saks, Saks, wake up.”

  He groaned, which was encouraging. She repositioned the ice bag that had slipped while Marcus and Gloria claimed her attention. Chrissy moved it but inadvertently touched the back of Saks’ neck. He groaned.

  “Saks, Saks, honey, you need to open your eyes.”

  His eyes fluttered, and Chrissy sighed in relief.

  “Shit... What happened?” he moaned.

  “The hood of your car fell on you.”

  “Bitch.” He groaned and tried to sit up, only to fall back again to her pillows.

  “Hey, there,” said Marcus in a warning tone.

  “I don’t think he meant me,” said Chrissy. “Did you, Saks?”

  “I said,” he coughed, “it hurts like a bitch.”

  Gloria studied her phone. “I think Chrissy’s right. Google says he needs to see a doctor, especially since he passed out.”

  “All right, I’ll take him,” said Marcus grudgingly. “But you girls get to your parents’ house. That’s a world of hurt I don’t need right now. And for fuck’s sake don’t tell them about this fight. You’ve got enough troubles.”

  Saks struggled to sit again. “I’ll be okay. Just... take me to my apartment.”

  “Look at you,” snapped Chrissy. Damn, the man was stubborn. “Can’t even sit on your own. If you don’t go with Marcus, I’ll call an ambulance to pick you up.”

  “Don’t,” gritted Saks. “You don’t get it. If my club finds out about this fight, they’ll be all over Marcus.”

  “You weren’t hurt during the fight,” said Chrissy, “so just keep to that story.”

  “Just because they’re bikers doesn’t mean they’re stupid.”

  “I never said—”

  “Okay, you two,” rumbled Marcus. “That’s enou
gh. Come on, Saks, I’m taking you to the hospital.”

  Saks tried to stand and passed out again.

  “HEY,” SAID CHRISSY softly as Saks’ eyelids fluttered.

  She leaned down closer to him beside the hospital bed. She’d ditched dinner, damn the consequences, and Marcus’ angry words. She couldn’t walk away when Saks was in dire need. What surprised her, though, was the wave of protectiveness that washed over her as she stood at his bedside. To gain entry into the ED room, she told them she was his sister. She also said she was next of kin. When she signed the consent forms to treat, a tiny amount of shame pricked her brain for the lie. But just a little. If Saks needed anyone to watch over him it was now.

  “What’re you doing here?” he said hoarsely.

  “I couldn’t leave you here all alone. I begged off the dinner, saying I didn’t feel well.”

  “With the way Marcus went on about it...” He closed his eyes and sighed before slowly opening them again to try to focus on her.

  “I did. I’ll hear about it for sure.”

  “Am I in the hospital?”

  “Yes.”

  “What have they found out?”

  Chrissy bit her lip. “They said you have a mild concussion. They’re keeping you for observation.”

  “For how long?”

  She didn’t know. The first doctor who examined him muttered something about “bikers who got rowdy” and ordered a CT scan. When they tried to wake him Saks was incoherent, which shot Chrissy’s worry meter to ultra-high. Each time they tried to rouse him he seemed slightly more together, but not enough. That concerned the doctor as well.

  A knock at the door brought in a different doctor, the result of a shift change. The man in blue scrubs looked at a tablet and moved his hand to flip pages.

  “Anthony Parks,” he said.

  “Yeah.”

  “Good to see you’re awake now. How’s the head?”

  “Sore.”

  The doctor nodded and did a physical check of Saks’ head. “This is an unusual accident. The hood of your car fell on you?”

  “It’s an old car.”

  “It rarely happens that you tear a ligament in your shoulder at the same time.”

  “I uh, I fell afterward. Must’ve wrenched it.”

  “Yeah,” the doctor said with suspicion. “Your sister told me a similar story.” He glanced at Saks’ Hades’ Spawn jacket neatly folded over the one chair in the room.

  “Sis—”

  Chrissy put her hand on his arm. “You weren’t remembering things so good when I brought you in, bro.”

  The doctor walked to the bed and had Saks put his feet over the edge, and then flashed a light in his eyes, and then had him touch his nose and a few other exercises. Chrissy bounced on the balls of her feet waiting for the doctor’s verdict.

  Please, Saks, be okay.

  “Your responses are much better than last night. And your CT scan didn’t show any fractures or swelling. Which is good news. However, that doesn’t mean there isn’t an injury. Any time the brain gets hit by something hard, it’ll bruise like any other body part. Only this is the brain, so it pays to be careful. So, no work for the next three days, no driving for a week, no contact sports of any kind, and try not to get banged over the head with your car roof again. And no,” he tapped at the iPad, “biking till I, or another doctor, clears you.”

  Saks groaned. “I’ll be fine.”

  “You will, if you listen.” The doctor moved toward the door, his eyes still on his screen. “Oh, and you’ll need someone with you for the next twenty-four hours.”

  “I’ll stay with him,” said Chrissy. “And make sure he does as he’s told.”

  “Good,” he said with a nod. “Then I’ll sign the discharge papers and we’ll get you out of here today. Also, because of the head injury, I can’t give you any narcotics for pain.”

  “Not a problem,” said Saks.

  “He’s a tough guy,” said Chrissy at the same time.

  “I can see that.” The doctor nodded again. “Take Tylenol. Nothing aspirin-based for the time being. No Bayer or over the counter stuff like that. It contains aspirin. You need acetaminophen. Follow up with your physician within a week; if your symptoms worsen, come right back here.”

  “Sure, Doc. Thanks.”

  The doctor left, leaving Chrissy alone with Saks. He looked unhappy, which Chrissy could understand. The whole weekend had been rough on the man, and the haggard expression on his face told that tale.

  “Where’s my car?”

  “Still at my house.”

  “Well, take me there and I’ll go home.”

  “Saks, the doctor said you shouldn’t drive for a week.”

  “No offense, Chrissy, but hanging with you isn’t good for my health.”

  Chrissy’s heart sank, but could she blame him? He pegged things correctly. In less than forty-eight hours, he’d fought with Marcus twice, she’d slapped his face, kneed him in the groin, and dumped Eggs Benedict on him. She couldn’t blame him if he didn’t want to see her again. But she couldn’t let him drive in his condition.

  “I’ll take you to your apartment,” she said. “And have your car towed there at my expense.” She stared down at her hands. “I’m sorry about all of this, Saks.”

  A nurse came in with discharge papers, halting their conversation.

  While Saks dressed, Chrissy drove her car to the emergency entrance where Saks waited. He walked out slowly, the sight of him causing her breath to hitch. Damn. Why did he have to be a Rocco? She jumped out of the car to help him in.

  He looked ahead and Chrissy followed his gaze. The sun rose over the horizon against the cityscape of New Haven.

  “Don’t you have to go to work?” he asked.

  “I’ll call in.”

  “You shouldn’t on my account. Just drop me off at my apartment; I’ll call someone to watch me.”

  “Who?”

  Saks looked away.

  “Thought so,” she said. “Who you gonna call? Ghostbusters?”

  “That’s an awful joke.”

  “And you’re a terrible liar. Are you that eager to get rid of me?”

  “Last I heard you’d go to Hell before marrying a Rocco.”

  “Let’s just get you in the car and home. We’ll go from there.” Chrissy grimaced, and ached to touch him at the same time. Every moment she spent with Saks only reaffirmed the crazy connection she had with him. This was dreadful, and she knew it. She was falling for Saks despite every argument she called up against it. Women who love the wrong men for all the right reasons pave the road to Hell.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Saks sat on Chrissy’s couch while she called work, leaving a voice mail. He was at her place instead of his because she’d insisted on calling for a tow and he had to be on site to hand off the car. Only then, she promised, she’d drive him home.

  If Saks had any sense, he’d have called Luke and had his friend come pick him up.

  “Richard, sorry. I caught a stomach bug and can’t come into work today. I’ll call you later, but I’ve got everything arranged with my assistant. Should you need anything, she’ll be able to help you. Thank you for understanding.”

  Even when she lied through her teeth, she was classy. Then he heard her dial another number.

  “Jess, sorry to call you so early. I’m taking a personal day. I’ll send you what buys to make. Get Richard to sign off on them. He should without a problem. If you have questions, email me.” Chrissy paused her end of the conversation. “Yes, I’m sick, Miss-Any-Gossip-I-Can-Get. Yes, I know I depend on you for that, but that’s other people’s secrets... No, I don’t have any secrets. I worded that badly. Yes, I should be in tomorrow. Thanks.”

  She walked into the living room and leaned over on the couch next to him, looking out the window. While she looked, Saks’ eyes wandered to her backside that filled out her jeans like perfectly round melons. He always liked a full derrière on a woman, and Chrissy’
s was absolutely delectable. He licked his lips involuntarily, and when he caught his inadvertent admission of his desire he covered his mouth with his hand and coughed. Damn it, he needed to get out of here!

  “You have a secretary?”

  “An administrative assistant.”

  “What’s the difference between a secretary and an administrative assistant?”

  “If I had a secretary, I’d be managing her time. My administrative assistant manages mine. You know, keeps track of my schedule, reminds me of meetings, gets me the information I need to handle presentations. That sort of thing.”

  “Sounds like she’s your boss.”

  Chrissy laughed. “Sometimes I wonder. But I’m lucky to have her. Even though she can be nosy.”

  “Like wondering why her hard-driving boss is taking a day off?”

  “Yes. I never do. But maybe it’s not so bad.”

  “Why’s that?”

  Chrissy’s expression turned thoughtful. “Just, well, the job didn’t turn out like I thought. I’m considering other offers.”

  “What offers?”

  “Who’s being nosy now?” she said with a smile.

  “You’re right,” he said. To distract his lust-driven thoughts, Saks pulled out the discharge papers which he had folded into a square and tucked into his jeans. He studied them as if they held the key to the mysteries of life. But the only question his testosterone-fueled brain had was when he’d make a move on Chrissy. He cleared his throat. “According to the discharge papers, you should ask me questions to keep me awake.”

  “Okay. How did you join that motorcycle club of yours?”

  “That’s not much of a story.”

  “Tell me anyway.”

  “Luke hired me at Central Valley Bike Repair, and I hung around with him, and then the club, and eventually they made me a probie.”

  “Probie? As in probational member?”

  “Yeah, sort of a prolonged hazing. A probie gets calls all time of the day and night. Get me this, get me that. After a while they decide to take you in or not, and then they’ll give you your colors if they do.”