Jet (Royal Bastards MC, #6), page 3
Maggie shook her head. “I’ve watched Sons of Anarchy. I saw what happened to Tara. I bet there is a Gemma in that club, and she’s just waiting to kill me.”
I closed my eyes and tried to make sense of that whole mess that Maggie had just spewed. “Who? I’m Jemma.”
“Girl, you have got to watch Sons. You need to watch out for Gemma with a G, not a J.”
That was not the first time I had heard that I needed to watch Sons in the past twenty-four hours. “I’ll add it to my to-do list.” Hell, I was going to move it to the top of my to-do list.
“Good.” Maggie stood and grabbed a handful of jellybeans. “And you can take Jax. You could use a ride.”
“Jet,” I corrected her.
Maggie laughed and shook her head. “Yeah, sure.”
“But I don’t want to take Jet,” I insisted. “I think you are forgetting I’m the boss even if I’m taking on my own patients.”
“And I’m trying to stick with Perry. He’s solid and steady. If I get a whiff of the freedom and exhaust that hangs around Jet, I know I’ll be off like a shot.” Maggie took a deep breath. “I am turning over a new leaf. One that is solid and steady.”
“I think that’s kind of an insult to Jet and his friends that you think they aren’t steady. From what I gather two of the guys yesterday had girlfriends and the one had a kid,” I pointed out.
Maggie shook her head and shook out her hands. “I’m sure he has a kid. Those bikers can get you pregnant with just one look.” Maggie thrust her hips. “Pew, pew.”
“You did not just pew, pew,” I laughed.
“I’ve been around, Jemma. I know how those bikers are. Hot, sexy, and rea–.”
“Ready to impregnant with one pew?” I cooed.
Maggie tapped her nose and pointed at me. “You hit the nail on the head, Jem. Make sure Jet keeps his pew pew away from you.”
I rolled my eyes and shooed her away with a flick on my fingers. “I think I can handle myself, Maggie, but thank you for the warning.” No biker was going to pew pew at me. I was older than all of them, and even though I had never seen Sons of Anarchy, bikers did not go for women who were ten years older than them.
“I’ll keep an eye on you from a distance,” she offered. “I’ll let out a hoot or something if I see something going on.”
Oh lord. Maggie hooting in the physical therapy rooms was all I needed. “How about no hooting, and if you see something shady going on you can talk to me like a human being, and not an owl?”
“No fun,” Maggie grunted. She glanced at the clock. “You better get a move on, Jem. With adding Jet to your schedule, you’re gonna be a very busy girl today.”
It was half past eight. I had half an hour before my first session of the morning. I was technically only going to have to see Jet twice a day for forty-five minutes each time while I had four other patients, I would see the same amount.
Jet was going to be my first patient of the day, though. I wasn’t sure what I was expecting, but I knew he was more than likely going to be a grump the whole time. “I need to hit the vending machine,” I announced.
“Uh, okay?” Maggie laughed. “Got a sweet craving?”
“Something like that.” I knew that Jet was more than likely going to be a tough nut to crack so I was going to have to hit him from every angle I could think of.
That first angle was going to be candy.
Chapter Five
Jet
“How was your breakfast?”
I scooted to the edge of the bed and pushed the tray away. “The eggs were like rubber and the bacon was soggy as fuck.” If this was Pine Clove’s idea of a healthy breakfast, I was going to starve for the next two weeks.
“Oh,” Jemma laughed. “The cook must be having a bad morning or maybe it sat on your tray for too long.” She walked to the closet on the other side of the room and pulled out a belt.
“What’s that?” I asked.
She moved to me and pushed the tray to the wall. “This is a gait belt. I loop it around your waist whenever you’re up and moving.”
“Why?”
“So I have something to grab onto in case you’re unsteady,” she explained.
“I’m not unsteady. My arm is shit, not my legs.” I didn’t know how many times I needed to fucking explain that around here.
“I know, but since your arm is shit, you don’t have the same balance. You use both of your arms to walk even if you’re not actively swinging it. Since you can’t move your arm at all, your balance is going to be off. For the time being you are going to have to have a gait belt on when you’re moving more than in your room.”
That wasn’t going to happen. “I don’t need that.”
Jemma moved toward me and tried to span the belt around my waist. I grabbed the belt and pushed it away from me. “I can walk without your help.”
“The purpose of the belt is for me to use it if I need to. If you can make it to the elevator without stumbling, leaning, or tipping over then I will put on your chart that you don’t need the belt.” She put the belt in one hand and held her other one out to me. “Deal?”
The elevator was a probably fifty yards away. I knew I could make it that far. I put my hand in hers and shook. “Deal. Get your pen ready to write in that chart.” She patted her pocket. “I got it right here. Now let me put this on you, and then you can prove me wrong, okay?”
I held my left arm out and my right hung there lamely even though I was trying to move the damn thing.
Jemma looped the belt around my waist and fastened it snuggly around my waist. “Step forward. I’ll walk on your side and my hand will rest on the belt on your back.”
I stepped forward and Jemma moved next to me. “Can we go?” I asked. I was ready to get this damn belt off of me.
Jemma swung her arm out in front of us. “You are the one in control, Jet. I’m just here to help you if you need it.”
Help. Pfft, I didn’t need her help. I didn’t need anyone’s help.
We made it to the doorway, and she stepped back to let me through. I felt her hand on my back, but it wasn’t like she was holding me up.
“Doing good,” Jemma encouraged. “Just to the elevator and you’ll be free of the belt.”
I took a deep breath and stepped forward. My breathing was heavy, and it felt like I had walked two miles, not ten steps.
What the fuck? I had been moving around my room no problem, and now I couldn’t make it twenty feet without being winded.
“Do you want to take a rest?” Jemma asked.
I shot a glare at her and shook my head. “I’m fine,” I gritted out. I was going to make it to the damn elevator.
“I looked over your chart this morning. How long were you in a coma?”
If she looked at my chart, she should know how long I was in a fucking coma. “Fifteen days.”
“Want to hear a little fun fact?”
“No.”
“Well, I’ll still tell you since we have a way to go until we get to the elevator.” She cleared her throat and her hand pressed against my back. “For every week you are bedridden it takes you two and a half weeks to recover and regain your strength.”
“Bullshit,” I growled. If that was true it was going to be five weeks before I was back to normal. I did not have that long to wait.
“I mean, that’s just a general time, but it’s pretty spot on for most people.”
“I am not going to be here for five weeks,” I insisted. My leg shook as I took another step, and I reached out for the wall to steady myself. “I need to get back to the club.”
“Your friends seemed to be okay. The bearded guy seemed to just be worried about you getting better.”
I scoffed and shook my head. “The bearded one is my Prez. He has the power to make my life perfect or hell.”
“That’s a lot of power you give to someone.”
“Nah,” I disagreed. “That’s the power of the club.”
I really needed to watch Sons of Anarchy. It might help me understand what Jet was talking about. “If you say so.” I motioned down the hallway. “You ready to get going again?”
I pushed off the wall and stumbled to the side. Jemma’s hand shot out and she gripped the belt around my waist. She pulled me to her and put an arm around my waist.
Son of a bitch. “What are the odds of you not noticing that?” I asked.
“Zero. You and the gait belt are going to become good friends the next couple of days. You’re not ready to be waltzing around, Jet.”
I shuffled down the hallway with her hand tight on the belt. “When do you think I’ll be waltzing?”
“You already know the answer to that.”
I was not going to wait five fucking weeks until I was walking around normally. “It’s not gonna take that long for me to start walking.”
She laughed and reached for the button to the elevator. “You’re right. Five weeks is when you should be pretty much good as new. We can test you again in a couple of days to see how your walking is coming along.”
“I wasn’t shot in the leg,” I grumbled. “This is such bullshit that I can’t walk.”
The elevator dinged and the doors slid open. “You may not have been shot in the leg, but you didn’t move your whole body for sixteen days. That’s a long time. You start losing muscle mass and mobility.”
I shuffled into the elevator and leaned against the wall.
“Do you want me to get a wheelchair?”
I was weak, but I wasn’t a complete invalid. “The gait belt helps. I can at least shuffle myself around.”
Jemma laughed and pressed the button for the first floor. “Keep that stubbornness up, Jet. You’re going to need it in about half an hour.”
“What does that mean?” I asked. What was going to happen in half an hour?
“You’re gonna hate me.”
Jemma
“How are you feeling?”
Jet panted heavily and his head hung. “Dead.”
I smiled proudly. “That is wonderful.”
“All we fucking did was some walking, play with a fucking balloon, and stretches. What the hell kind of voodoo did you do to me?” he demanded.
“Building back up your muscle. It may seem really hard right now, but in a week, you’ll be some actual competition for me in balloon volleyball.”
“I’m gonna kick your ass,” he laughed.
“Caw-caw!”
Jet’s head snapped up and I whirled around.
Maggie stood ten feet away with a clipboard clutched to her chest and her face pale.
“Hoot?” she whispered.
“Uh, just hang on for one second,” I called to Jet. I stalked over to Maggie and grabbed her arm. “What are you doing?” I whispered.
“He said he was going to kick your ass,” Maggie replied. “If that isn’t a reason to caw-caw, then I don’t know what is.”
I shook my head and ran my fingers through my hair. “He thinks he is going to kick my ass in balloon volleyball, Maggie. Not actually kick my ass.”
“Oh,” Maggie sighed. “That makes a lot more sense. I watched you two the whole time and it seemed like you guys were getting along pretty well.”
We actually had. Jet was stubborn and grumpy, but I was helping to make that work in his favor. I didn’t even have to break out the three candy bars I had bought before his session. “You think I can get him back to his room and ready for my next patient without you cawing?” I growled.
Maggie nodded her head. “You’re good for now. I will be watching during his afternoon session.”
“Oh goody.” I rolled my eyes and turned back to Jet. It was nice that Maggie was looking out for me, but I didn’t think anything bad was going to happen with Jet.
“I was thinking about trying to make it back to my room without you, but I couldn’t even stand up.” Jet shook his head. “I’m a fucking pussy right now.”
I laughed and shook my head. “You are definitely not a pussy. Your body has been through something traumatic, and now it needs to relearn everything.” I grabbed his gait belt and helped him stand. “Your next PT session isn’t until three so you can have lunch and rest for a while.”
“I want to tell you that I don’t need to rest, but I could fall asleep standing right here.”
“Does that mean you wouldn’t be against taking a ride in the wheelchair?” I had a good grip on the gait belt, but it would be safer for Jet if he was in a wheelchair.
“You’re the expert, doll. I thought I knew my own body, but you obviously know a lot more than I do.”
I guided him to a bench, and he sat down. “You still know your own body, Jet.” I jogged back to the PT room and grabbed a wheelchair.
“Okay?” Maggie asked.
I waved at her. “All good. Superman doesn’t quite have his strength back yet.”
Maggie laughed. “I think that can be said for every patient on their first day of rehab.”
I wheeled the chair back to Jet and helped in sit.
“You think the lunch is going to be any better?” he asked.
“I’m sure it will be.” Most days I tried to bring my own food for breaks, but I had eaten from the kitchen a few times. “I know the salad bar is good, and hot turkey sandwich is killer.”
“Do you think a salad bar is going to excite me?” he laughed. “I could go for a beer and huge burger.”
“Was that an option on the menu you filled out yesterday?”
He scoffed and shook his head. “I fucking wish it was. I think I picked ham sandwich because it seemed like the one thing they couldn’t mess up.”
We rode the elevator up to his floor and I pushed him to his room. I helped him into bed, and he laid back on the pillows.
“You should try to take a nap before lunch.”
Jet smothered a yawn with the back of his hand. “I’m not tired.”
“Everything good?” Mace stood in the doorway.
“Like you didn’t keep an eye on me the whole time,” Jet chuckled.
Mace shrugged. “You made it further than I thought you would before she had to get the wheelchair for your ass.” He stepped into the room and sat in the recliner in the corner.
“Lunch should be here in a couple of hours. Try to rest and make sure to eat. Our next session is at three,” I ordered.
Mace nodded to the dry erase board on the wall. “You guys are pretty good about making sure we know when shit is. Part of me is thinking of telling Barracuda that we need to get some dry erase boards around the clubhouse.”
Jet scoffed. “Can you imagine the shit that would get drawn on those boards?”
“Monday: take out the trash. Tuesday: wash the bikes. Wednesday: Kick some ass,” I suggested.
Mace and Jet busted out laughing.
“I think we normally keep the ass kicking to Tuesday and Saturday,” Mace joked.
“And that is why you should have some dry erase boards around. You can keep track of your ass kicking schedule better.” I grabbed the remote to the TV and handed it to Jet. “Watch some TV and rest. I’ll see you in a few hours.” Normally patients had some other PT, but Jet didn’t need any help with his speech or cognitive things. His therapy was all physical.
I waved to Mace and headed down the hallway.
“How did that go?” Manda asked when I walked past the nurse’s station.
I shrugged and leaned against the counter. “About as good as it could have gone.” I was pretty surprised how little Jet had complained. I could tell he just wanted to get better and if doing therapy was the way that would happen, then he was going to do it.
“Did he say anything about his friend lurking in the shadows?”
I glanced down the hallway toward Jet’s room. “He’s lurking?” I asked.
Manda nodded. “Girl, it’s like he’s casing the joint or something. When I got here this morning, he was out in the parking lot. He was checking out all of the cars.”
“Is that something they did in Sons of Anarchy?” I laughed. It was pretty odd that Mace was in the parking lot, but I also thought it was strange that he was staying with Jet. There was more going on there that I didn’t know about.
“Girl, they did a whole lot more on Sons than walk through parking lots.”
I patted the counter and smiled. “Then I don’t think we have anything to worry about then, right?”
“I’ll keep any eye on things, girl. You never know what could happen.”
Perhaps Manda was watching too much TV. “I need to get ready for my next patient. Later, honey.”
I had enough going on with Jess out for three months and needing to pick up the slack. I didn’t have time to sit and daydream about why Jet had Mace staying with him. Whatever was going on was their business.
I was just trying to make it through the day and maybe kick some ass in balloon volleyball along the way.
Chapter Six
Jet
“We’re coming to dinner with you.”
“Why?”
Memphis sat on the edge of my bed and patted my foot. “Because we can.”
“Is that supposed to be a good explanation?” I asked.
Memphis shrugged. “It seems to be an explanation that you guys use all of the time.”
“When have I ever said that?” Six-Gun asked. He folded his arms over his chest and leaned against the doorframe.
She flitted her hand at Six-Gun. “You haven’t said those words exactly, but that’s what you mean.”
Six-Gun opened his mouth, but no words came out.
“You have rendered the man speechless,” Mitzy cackled. “I love when that happens.”
Twenty minutes ago Six-Gun, Memphis, Pru, and Mitzy had shown up. They were all insisting they were going to do to the dining room with me, but I was too tired to do anything but lay in my bed.
Jemma hadn’t been lying when she had told me my body had to relearn a lot of basic things. The next time I was in a coma I was just gonna stay knocked out. This was hard work getting back to normal.
“Do you think we have to pay for dinner?” Pru asked. “We probably should have let the kitchen know we were coming to eat.”
