Read Striker: No Prisoners MC Book 1 Online
Authors: Lilly Atlas
Striker: No Prisoners MC Book 1
STRIKER
No Prisoners MC Book 1
by Lilly Atlas
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Copyright © 2016 Lilly Atlas
All rights reserved.
Dr. Lila Emerson is finally free of the shadow of her politically connected family, with her new job in a small town Emergency Room. But her new peace is shattered when she encounters the dangerous, but compelling Striker. He's everything she should stay away from, but all she craves. And since he keeps turning up in her ER, he's hard to avoid.
As Vice President of No Prisoners outlaw motorcycle club, Striker is no stranger to violence. But when it touches the pretty doctor he wants in his bed, he'll do anything to keep her safe. When Striker and Lila are thrust together, sparks fly and passions ignite. Before long they find themselves entangled in a relationship neither saw coming.
The MC can and will eliminate any threat against Lila, but what if they—and the man she's falling for—are the reason she’s in danger?
For Sam.
Without you, all I’d have is a messy word document and an email address. Plus, I’d never have known to do a CT to rule out an orbital fracture.
Love you.
Thank you so much for spending some time in the No Prisoners’ world. If you enjoyed the book please feel free to leave a review on Amazon or
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The doors to Desert Community Hospital slid open with a whoosh. It was a sound Dr. Lila Emerson heard countless times each shift, so she didn’t bother to look up, focusing instead on completing a written proposal for the concussion and sports safety program she hoped to institute at the local high school. Another forty-five minutes and she would have it completed, and be on her way home to the bottle of Cabernet and warm bath that promised to soothe her tired body after a hectic week. She couldn’t wait.
“Stitch.” Jester’s booming voice bellowed through the lobby. “We need you, girl! Gumby’s face is all busted up.”
Lila groaned. Again? Perhaps the man needed a new nickname. Gumby didn’t seem fitting, considering the number of times his body cracked.
Members of the No Prisoners motorcycle club had burst into the lobby of the emergency room. She could always tell the moment they came through the doors, even without the inevitable
we’re here
announcement made by Jester. There was a change in the energy of the room: a charge of fear and distrust from some, a nervous respect from others, and a buzz of sexual energy from all the testosterone they seemed to emit. There was a strong possibility she was the only one who noticed that last point.
Jester led the pack of two leather-clad, boot-wearing men as they tromped through the waiting room, and up to the admissions desk. Silence descended as the patients awaiting treatment gaped at the intimidating duo. Jester was a mountain of a man, topping out at no less than six foot five inches, and probably weighed close to three hundred pounds of solid muscle. He had the body type of a serious weight lifter, and could have been one, for all she knew about him. Both arms boasted full sleeves of tattoos, and additional ink peeked out from the collar of his T-shirt. Jester’s dark brown hair was long, past his shoulders, and thick, though usually contained in a ponytail at the base of his neck. He was a formidable figure, and not someone she’d want to meet in a back alley at night, despite his apparent jovial demeanor.
He reached the admissions desk, and braced his meaty hands on the counter. The action placed him directly above poor Anna, the middle aged receptionist who worked the night shift. She had to tilt her head way back to meet Jester’s fierce gaze.
“Um, if you wouldn’t mind filling out these papers.” Anna’s voice shook as she fumbled with the clipboard that contained the intake paperwork. “Then please have a seat, and we will call you back soon. There are only a few patients ahead of you, so the wait shouldn’t be more than an hour.”
“That’s not gonna work for us. We’ll just head back to an empty room, and Stitch can meet us in there.”
Jester was the first to call her Stitch, after a number of club members had required stitches following a particularly brutal bar brawl one night a few months ago. The moniker stuck, and spread throughout the town.
The No Prisoners. Their name came from the phrase
take no prisoners
, an expression the club was rumored to live by. Lila’s patients loved to pass along town gossip, and she was regaled with numerous grandiose stories about the club’s penchant for making their enemies disappear. Typically, she took what patients told and believed about half of it, but these rumors she didn’t doubt. Each club member she’d met was able to laugh and joke with her, but there was always a deadly undercurrent that couldn’t be ignored. They all carried weapons, and she’d often wondered how they got them past the security guard, but she wasn’t about to ask. No point in getting on their bad side.
Lila rolled her eyes, and stood, intending to intervene on Anna’s behalf, when her gaze landed on the man rounding out the group. Striker shook hands with the night security guard as he came through the double doors. In its typical fashion, her heart rate kicked up a notch at the sight of the No Prisoners’ vice president.
Her eyes widened as she watched Striker pass what looked like money to the portly guard who glanced around before sliding his hand into his back pocket. Well that explained how they got their arsenal in the building, and why they were never asked to leave, no matter how many patients complained of being uncomfortable by their presence.
If Webster’s had a definition for sexy bad boy there would be a picture of Striker. He stood around six-foot-two, with muscles galore and dark, almost black hair that was short and a bit unruly. Combined with a strong jaw, piercing blue eyes, and leather, he made for one mouthwatering package.
“Ah, there’s no guarantee that, um, Dr. Emerson will be the one to see you.” Anna’s face was flushed, her voice wavered, and her eyes shone with a glimmer of unshed tears. Jester still hovered over her, a scowl on his face.
Lila sighed. Her schedule had been crazy this week and she’d had to squeeze in work on the proposal anywhere she could. It was just about finished, and she had planned on it being done by the time this shift was over. So much for that.
She moved toward the reception area to rescue Anna before the unassuming woman broke down under Jester’s glower. “Anna, it’s okay.” Lila put a hand on the older woman’s shoulder. “There’s no one else in line to check in. Why don’t you run and grab a cup of coffee from the break room, and I’ll get these gentlemen’s information and get them settled.”
The look of relief on Anna’s face was almost comical, and she scurried away the second the offer was out of Lila’s mouth. The club members were imposing for sure, but in all the times they’d been into the ER, Lila could be honest in saying they never actually caused any trouble. They just always looked like they were on the verge of it. Still, the patients in the waiting room stared at the floor and out the windows, anywhere but at the hulking men in leather and chains. Most of the staff reacted the same way, and Lila realized, aside from the worthless security guard, she was alone in the shared admissions and charting area.
She shifted her attention to the three men standing by the desk. Jester wore an ear-to-ear grin on his face, like flustering the receptionist had been the highlight of his evening. Gumby, the injured party, stood next to him and held a blood soaked rag under a rapidly swelling eye. Striker leaned against the wall off to the side, arms crossed, face unreadable, and Lila forced her attention away from him.
“Just head on back to room four,” she instructed. It was best to get them taken care of quickly. Tension would leave the ER once they were back outside on their motorcycles. Plus, she’d be able to go home as soon as she treated Gumby. “You know the way. I have to talk to the nurse for a minute and we’ll be right in. Try not to scare away too much of our business on your way back there.”
“Aww, Stitch, Gumby’s face doesn’t look that bad,” Jester said.
“I was talking to you,” she shot back with a smile.
Jester laughed, threw an arm around Gumby’s shoulders, and steered him in the direction Lila had indicated. Striker lingered at the admissions desk. When she met his gaze, one corner of his mouth lifted in the arrogant grin she had come to expect from him. Her breath caught in her throat and she forgot what she was supposed to be doing. She barely remembered her own name when he looked at her like that, and lately the heated gazes seemed to be coming more frequently.
Part of Lila, the part that had moved across the country in hope of having the freedom to live her life her way, told her she loved the attention. She was free to make her own decisions for the first time in her life. Taking this job in a small town hospital where she could really affect the lives of individuals in her community was the first step in exerting her autonomy. The next step would be finding a man to spend that life with.
She really didn’t know Striker, but the idea of the tough-looking biker wanting a picket fence and two point five kids was almost laughable. Lila could admire the attractive packaging from afar, but she shouldn’t be thinking about the desire that shone in his eyes, as she did far too often. There was nothing but trouble down that road. Especially since he probably spent much of his time on the wrong side of the law.
“So, Doc, I hear you have a big presentation coming up,” he said.
Pride swelled with the knowledge that there was talk around town about her program. It was her baby. She’d seen too many high school athletes come through the ER with serious head injuries due to the school’s ignorance about concussions and equipment safety.
“I do! I’m presenting my idea in front of the school board Monday night. If all goes well, I’ll form a committee and begin putting a program together. It’s so important. Did you know that the majority of the sports equipment at the high school is over ten years old? There is no way it is in any condition to keep the kids protected.”
Her face heated. She was passionate about this project, and could talk about it for hours, to anyone apparently, even sexy bikers who normally had her tongue-tied. “Sorry. I can ramble on about this until your ears fall off. I’m sure you’re not interested, so I should probably go tend to the bleeding man.”
She turned to flee toward the treatment rooms, but stopped when Striker’s voice sounded behind her. “Actually, Doc, some of my guys have kids in the high school. A few of them play football. I think it’s great what you’re doing.”
And damn if her heart didn’t do a happy dance at the look of admiration on his face. With a nod in his direction, she turned and headed down the hall.
Cammie, her friend and one of the best ER nurses she’d ever worked with, came up the hall as Lila went down it. “Cammie, can you grab a suture kit and meet me in room four? I’ll also need lidocaine and saline to irrigate the wound. Looks like Gumby took quite a shot to the face.”
At the mention of Gumby’s name, Cammie paled a bit, but she nodded and walked straight toward the supply room. Lila wasn’t sure what that was about, and didn’t want to waste time speculating.
She pushed the door to exam room four open and walked in. The miniscule room was even smaller than usual with two very large males filling the space. Gumby sat on the treatment table directly opposite the door, the blood soaked cloth still pressed to his face. Jester was off to the side, sitting in a plastic chair that was built for a man half his size. Striker hadn’t followed her into the room, and she breathed a small sigh of relief at the lack of distraction.