"I didn't get there fast enough." Crow says shortly as he jumps off the bike in a practised motion and turns to help me.

I want to refuse and tell him I'm no damsel in distress who needs his help constantly, but my body screams in protest as I try to swing my leg over and get off myself.

Crow rolls his eyes and grabs me under my arms, lifting me off and placing me down beside him. "I'm still not hearing a reason why you're bringing an unapproved stranger to the club." The man snaps.

Crow carefully unclips the helmet he placed on me and lifts it off, revealing my ugly mug to the world again. I see the flicker of concern on the man's face that tells me he's not the big bad wolf he likes to pretend to be. "This is why Pops," Crow says quietly, "She refused hospital so I thought maybe Doc could check her out."

I'm surprised by the deference in his tone and give him a sideways glance. He clearly respects this guy. "You should have called and checked with me." Pops replies before turning and disappearing back into the building.

Crow nudges me to follow. "Can you walk?"

"I told you I'm fine. Could have just gone home, you know." I reply, tossing my hair back and trying to pretend it doesn't feel like my insides are trying to fall out.

Crow shakes his head and clearly gives up trying to argue with me. "He doesn't like waiting." He says, nudging me towards the door.

I don't move for a moment, still examining the faded brick building, and he pushes a little harder, propelling me through the front door.

The first thing that hits me is the number of plants in the entry =way. I'm not entirely sure what I expected of a motorcycle club, but I can tell you it involved a lot less fejkas and ferns.

If Crow senses my surprise, he doesn't react, but Pops does. "My old lady, Katy, thinks they're calming." His face holds a wry amusement as if it's something he's explained a fair few times before.

"Old lady? Your mum lives here?" I ask, fingers trailing across the wide leaf of one of the plants.

Crow's roar of laughter beside me has me skittering away from him and towards Pops, who bursts out laughing too. "Oh my god, don't let her hear you say that." Pops splutters.

"What did I say?" The initial shock at Crow's laugh was fading already and being replaced by a curiously warm feeling in my chest.

"It's biker slang. She's my girlfriend." Pops explains, wiping a tear, "Come on, let's get you sorted before she appears. I swear she knows when she's being talked about." He is already disappearing through a wooden door before he has even finished talking.

I look back at Crow. His face is slipping back into that passive, disinterested look he wears so well, but he still nods in encouragement and I turn to follow Pops down a pale green hallway.

He knocks once on a door at the end and opens it without waiting for a reply, "Patient for you Doc." He says gruffly, then gestures for me to go in.

I peek round the door cautiously and take in the sterile white space and bed with a blue curtain around it. Glass cabinets line the walls and are filled with an assortment of medical equipment and medicines.

At a small wooden desk, someone is tapping away at a computer and he spins to face us as we enter. He's handsome, Hispanic, with jet black hair and a warm smile that instantly sets me at ease. "Let me guess, the other guy looks worse?"

"Jeez, did you find all your guys in a biker GQ mag or something?" I ask Pops without thinking.

He chuckles and pats my shoulder. "Get yourself checked. Bring her to me when you're done."

The second part is directed over my shoulder at Doc but my eyes glance back up the corridor to Crow. His gaze is nothing short of stormy and he's looking at anything but me.

"You're with me. I want a full debrief." Pops steps around me and speaks to Crow.

"You're leaving me?" The words spill out before I can stop them and a nervous feeling fills my chest.

Crow meets my eyes and his face softens, but then he looks at Pops and becomes serious again. "I did my job, got you help." He shrugs as if to say, what more do you want from me?

A lump fills my throat and I blame a delayed reaction to the stress of the attack. Swallowing it down, I force a smile. "No worries, thanks for the assist, bro." I whirl before he can see my total lack of poker face and step fully in Doc's room.

"It's nice to hear you laughing again," I hear Pops say before their voices get too far away.

I want to ask what he means by again and why Crow doesn't laugh that much. For that matter, I want to know why he's called Crow. What sort of name is that?

"So, do you want to tell me what happened?" Doc asks, dragging my attention back to the room.

He moves slowly, as though I'm an animal easily startled, and pulls on a pair of blue gloves.

I shrug, "Pissed off the wrong guy, I guess."

Doc smiles and gestures for me to sit down on the bed, so I perch on the edge. "A sweet little thing like you? I don't believe it."

"Yeah, he made that mistake too." I reply, and then wince as he begins to probe my face.

"Sorry, I'll be as gentle as I can. What else hurts?" He slips easily into a professional tone that is so at odds with his tattooed arms and neck, his pierced lip twinkling under the lights.

They say never judge a book by its cover, but I fully expect him to tattoo me, not heal me.

"I think my rib is broken." I admit.

Doc frowns and his hands begin to feel down my side. "Without an x-ray to confirm, I can't be sure, but from the feel of it, I think you might be right. I'll strap your ribs in a minute, but apart from painkillers, there's not much I can do for that."

"Yeah, I know." I reply as his fingers return to checking my head.

His hands still, and I sense the question behind his lack of movement, but I don't give him anything. No one needs to know about my douchebag ex and what I almost let him get away with.

"Lie down, please." Doc says after a moment, "You're going to need some stitches. I can numb the area, but you'll need to keep it clean." He warns, dragging a seat closer and reaching into the nearest cupboard for supplies.

"Contrary to what my current state might suggest, I'm actually a very clean person." I feel obliged to say as I lay back.

He smiles and begins to wipe my wounds without saying anything. After a minute of silence, I find myself chatting away again. I can't seem to stand the quiet.

"So what's it like in a biker gang? I don't know what I was expecting, but I'm disappointed by the lack of leather and chains."

He snorts, "It's a club, not a gang, and believe it or not, this is more like a family than anything else. Although Crow is as close as you're likely to get to whips and chains here."

"Who said anything about whips? Why Doctor, I don't think you're as innocent as you look." I gasp and feign shock.

Doc laughs in response. "You've got a smart mouth. I'm guessing that's what got you in trouble?"

I let out a non-committal hum, not ready to let the conversation back to me. "So what's Crow's story?"

"Not mine to tell." He replies without even thinking.

"What about his name then? It's obvious where yours is from." I push.

Doc pauses for a moment, examining my upside down expression, and I hold my breath.

Whatever he is searching for in my expression satisfies him, and he begins stitching my head wound.

"Ever heard the phrase 'a murder of crows'?"