Free Wanted: Devil Dogs MC by Evelyn Glass

she’d rather be. She wishes so much she had told her mother that before it had been too late. There is so much she still wants to say that is never going to be said.
     
    She folds the letter back up carefully, placing it in the envelope gently, as if she’s afraid it might break. Before she can pour the just-boiled water into the teapot, though, she hears a noise that makes her freeze. The front door opens and then closes. It’s followed by the unmistakable sound of footsteps walking down the hall. In her rational mind, she knows an intruder wouldn’t bother to rob the Bishop Boarding House, not when there are so many more appealing properties to choose from nearby, but a rational mind doesn’t work so well at almost two in the morning. So she grabs the first thing to hand, which happens to be a kitchen knife, and pads quietly towards the entrance, careful not to step on any of the creaky floorboards.
     
    She gasps when she sees the outline of a man in the darkness, coming towards her. “Is this how you greet all your guests, Isabel?” The voice is immediately familiar and the fear twisting her stomach relaxes into a completely different kind of tension.
     
    “Do you always sneak around in the early hours of the morning?” Her voice is steady as she flicks on the light-switch but she almost drops the knife in her hand when she sets eyes on Wesley.
     
    He’s busted up and bleeding, with a particular nasty looking cut above his eye. “Jesus, what happened to you?”
     
    Wesley smiles wryly. “It’s nothing. I had a little accident; that’s all.”
     
    “Did that accident involve someone’s fist and your face?” Isabel raises an eyebrow, already switching into doctor mode and looking him over, mentally cataloguing his injuries.
     
    “You should see the other guy.” He smiles again at her and Isabel wonders how it’s possible to look so devastatingly handsome when it seems like he can barely stand up.
     
    “Well if he’s in worse shape than you, he should be in the hospital.” Isabel’s voice is flat, but it does nothing to hide her concern.
     
    “This is nothing. I’m just going to take a hot shower and hit the sack.” He moves to walk past her and Isabel catches a slight limp as he moves and notices there’s blood on his jeans around his thigh.
     
    “Don’t be ridiculous. You need more than a shower. Let me take a look at you.” She motions towards the kitchen, leading the way and pulling a chair out for him before grabbing the well-stocked first aid kit she knows her mother kept in one of the cupboards.
     
    He looks at her doubtfully. “Trust me, I’m just a little bruised. It’s nothing.” He tries to brush off her concern and takes another step towards his bedroom before her voice stops him.
     
    “Come in here and sit down before you fall down.” When he doesn’t move, she crosses her arms and taps her foot impatiently. “If you bleed all over my house, I’ll be seriously pissed. Now stop the macho bullshit and sit the hell down.”
     
    Wesley blinks at her, clearly surprised at her bossiness, but, as always, amused. He shrugs, as if he’s doing her a favor, before hobbling into the kitchen and sitting in the chair she’s set out for him.
     
    “Good.” Isabel nods, satisfied, before taking the seat in front of him. “I’m not going to lie. This is going to hurt.” She dabs some iodine onto the cut above his eye and, to his credit, he barely reacts but she hears him breathe in sharply. Once she’s cleaned the cut, she can see that it’ll need a couple of stitches, but there are more injuries to inventory first. Gently, she picks up his right hand, taking in the ripped skin on the knuckles and the bruising that’s just starting to come out. She probes it gently with her thumbs. “It doesn’t feel like there’s anything broken.” She lays his hand gently on the table and moves to the freezer, wrapping ice in one of her kitchen towels. She rests the cold