“That’s not the only reason,” Sloan mentioned. “You’re going to be an uncle again.” My head shot up and there was no mistaking the way Sloan’s hand drifted to her stomach. “We’ve been keeping it a secret but we didn’t want you to leave without knowing.” Her mouth twisted lightly. “Maybe give you some incentive to come home.”
I cupped her face between my hands, swallowing hard before I kissed the top of her head. “Thank you for telling me.” She gripped my wrists. “I couldn’t be happier for you and Creed.”
“He won’t admit it but Creed wants you there. He wants you to the godfather.” She glanced up at me. “Promise me you’ll be there.”
I inhaled, my chest expanding at their show of faith. “I’ll be there,” I promised and she gave me a tiny nod. I released her, nudging her toward the decrepit cabin. “Go inside.” I wasn’t sure I would be able to ride away if they were standing there watching, not after Johnny’s ultimatum. I knew my family would still be my family, but also that Johnny wouldn’t back down, and I wouldn’t make them chose.
“Be careful, Clutch.”
I straddled the bike, tugging on my helmet as I cranked the motor, the roar drowning out whatever else she might have said. It was the first time I’d felt a moment’s hesitation about leaving, and I was afraid if I didn’t go now, I might not go.
I glanced down and the sight of a pink bunny ear poking out of my bag firmed my resolve. Staying wasn’t an option as long as Kara was out there.
Gravel flew as I took the turn onto the road a little too fast, but there was no one on the abandoned stretch of asphalt to bear witness. A few miles down the road there was a dirt turnaround, where a lone man leaned against a gleaming Harley, waiting for my decision. I saluted him as I drove past, one finger proudly thrust up, and even over the roar of the wind, I thought I heard him laugh.
Chapter Nine
Clutch
The door buzzed loudly and I shuffled forward, forcing myself not to appear eager as I glanced around casually, wondering if she would be here. Across the room, a woman stood with her back to me, a chart open on the counter in front of her.
“Chance Hayes?” She asked, turning to face me as her hand hovered over the chart.
“Clutch,” I corrected automatically, and those expressive eyes rose to meet mine. “I prefer Clutch.”
“Noted,” she responded, scribbling something on the chart. “And what brings you in today?”
I held up my hand, feeling stupid. “My finger. It’s just a scratch, but a guard saw it and told me I had to come to the clinic.”
“Guards don’t usually send prisoners to me unless there’s a good reason,” she commented lightly. “Generally speaking, they’re not overly concerned about your health and wellbeing,” she added, amusement glinting her gaze. “Let’s take a look.”
She took my hand, and carefully started to examine the swollen digit. When I took a deep breath a light floral scent filled my nose. “Your hands are cold,” I mentioned.
“They keep it like a meat locker in here,” she responded distractedly, manipulating my finger. She glanced up suddenly, those bright eyes startling close. “It’s not bothering you, is it?”
“What?” I asked dumbly, caught off guard.
“My hands,” she explained, but the words didn’t register. “Cold.” Her eyes creased at the corners. “My cold hands aren’t bothering you, are they?” She asked slowly, carefully enunciating each word.
“No,” I finally answered with a shake of my head. “They feel good actually.”
“Okay,” she said softly with a quick nod. “I was starting to think I would have to admit you. The fever might have gone to your brain.”
“Admit me?”
“For overnight observation,” she clarified. “You had me worried there for a second.”
“I was distracted,” I grunted, irritated by the knowledge, especially given the reason for my distraction.
“By what?” She questioned, cutting her eyes side to side as if looking for the source of my distraction, and I snorted at her pretend naiveté.
“Like you don’t know.”
She arched a single eyebrow. “I don’t,” she stated carefully. “Enlighten me.”
“Really?” I asked, my doubt clear to see.
Her eyebrows lowered. “Really.”
“You,” I said baldly. “You distracted me.”
Disappointment filled her eyes and she glanced back down at my finger. “Oh, you’re one of those,” she murmured, twisting my finger a little harder and I yelped.
“One of what?” She didn’t answer and I persisted. “One of what?”
“A prisoner that can’t handle the fact that I’m female.” She met my eyes, a challenge in her own. “You know, the ones that would hump a table leg.”
A rusty laugh rumbled from my chest and she blinked. “I don’t hump table legs,” I assured her. “And I’m not easily distracted by a pair of tits, even if it’s been a few years since I got to fondle a pair.” I glanced down pointedly, the green scrubs doing a good job of hiding her shape, but there was no denying the subtle swell of her breasts. “It takes more than a nice rack to distract me.”
“And yet, you say I distracted you.”
“Yes,” I stated briefly and she arched an eyebrow inquiringly. “Are you fishing for compliments?”
“I don’t know. You just said my rack wasn’t enough to distract you so maybe I prefer to be insulted.”
I narrowed my eyes, studying what little I could see of her face, as I tried to determine if she was yanking my chain. “No insult intended towards your,” I gestured to her chest. “They’re spectacular I’m sure.” The skin around her eyes crinkled and I swore she was laughing at me. “But it’s not your tits that make you a distraction. That would be too easy.” The tips of my ears burned as her expression grew serious. “You’re interesting. Different.” I cleared my throat. “A breath of fresh air in a world gone stale.”
I licked my lower lip, shaking my head as I turned away from her, embarrassed by the admission.
“I could make a joke about poetic prisoners, but I believe you might actually be sincere.” She tilted her head to meet my eyes, pinching my hurt finger when I wouldn’t look at her. “Thank you.” I nodded warily since she still held my finger in her hand. “It’s not often someone looks beyond the surface.”
“I can’t really see your surface,” I mentioned, startling a laugh from her. “Not to ruin my manly image, but you have a beautiful laugh.”
“Not to worry. Your manly image is safe with me.”
“Now I know you’re mocking me,” I retorted as she released my hand and walked back over to the cabinet. I jerked my thumb over my shoulder. “I’m good to go then?”
She glanced back and gave a quick shake of her head. “Not quite yet, big boy.” A choked sound escaped me, which she ignored as she unlocked the cabinet door. “You have an infection.” She met my eyes. “Which means you need an antibiotic.” She held up a syringe. “Left cheek wasn’t it?”
“Yeah,” I sighed, turning around to face the bed bolted to the floor. “How is it a swollen finger requires a shot in the butt?”
“If you’d come to me sooner, it might not have,” she answered, tugging on my waistband. “But now, I get a second peek at those buns of steel.”
I snorted and braced my arms on the bed as she swabbed my skin with alcohol. Movement outside the room caught my eye and I glanced over, expecting to see the guard watching us. A sharp stab told me she’d jabbed the needle in my ass, but I was distracted, my gaze sweeping the hall through the glass windows, searching for the guard that was supposed to be stationed there to protect the defenseless doctor against me.
There was no one.
“Doc,” I cautioned, straightening up as a warning tingle went down my spine.
“Oh, don’t be a baby. This isn’t nearly as bad –” Her words caught off abruptly as I rotated, pulling her behind me right as the door bur
st open.
“What are you doing in here?” I stated loudly, hoping to attract the attention of a guard as an inmate stared at me wild-eyed. “You shouldn’t be in here,” I added, striving for calm as the inmate jerked, a shiv clutched in his hand. “You need to leave.”
“Give me.” He didn’t say anything more and I chanced a quick glance to see if the commotion had been noticed by a guard. When I saw no one was running down the hall toward us, I focused my complete attention on the dangerous position we now found ourselves in.
“Give you what?” I asked, keeping my voice low and nonthreatening in hopes of defusing the situation.
“There are no drugs in here,” Doc piped up behind me, moving slightly to the side so she could see around me. I shifted my weight, keeping her solidly behind me. He was going to have to go through me to get to her.
“Not –” The guy shook his head, appearing disoriented, and I braced myself. “MOVE!”
There was no time to move as he charged me, and I grunted when he slammed into me, the shiv sliding in deep. Adrenaline blocked the pain as I found myself suddenly fighting for the Doc’s life and my own.
The wiry bastard was stronger than I expected and it took a minute to get him off of me. I finally shoved him away with a roar, and he bounced off the glass window, leaving a smear of blood behind. It didn’t stop him though as he came at me again, but this time I was prepared and swung my fist, landing a solid punch to the side of his head.
His body jerked sideways, but he recovered almost instantly, seeming to feel no pain at all as he threw himself at me again.
“Guard, guard. I need a guard in here.” I could hear Doc screaming for a guard behind me, but I all I could concentrate on was the guy in front of me. I saw his arm swinging at me from the corner of my eye and managed to block, keeping the shiv from going into my neck. Doc was pinned between the bed and the cabinet, with only me between her and the crazed inmate.
“Stay behind me,” I ordered Doc, keeping my gaze trained on our attacker’s erratic movements. He seemed frustrated, and kept mumbling to himself, as I panted, trying to ignore the blood running down my side.
“You’re bleeding,” Doc stated and I barely kept from rolling my eyes.
“No shit.”
“I need to help you,” she continued, ignoring my comment.
“Kinda busy at the moment,” I muttered, dodging a swipe from the shiv. “Homicidal lunatic and all.”
“If I can get to the cabinet, I have something in there that will knock him out,” she informed me, keeping her voice pitched low so he didn’t hear. I nodded once to indicate I heard her and then lunged forward, surprising the guy. She made a dash for the cabinet as I herded our inmate away from her. He caught sight of her though and it was like a switch flipped. He raised the shiv and went straight for her exposed back. I dove forward, desperate to block him, and managed to grab his wrist, twisting until I heard bone snap and the shiv fell from his suddenly nerveless fingertips.
“Duck.”
I reacted instinctively, my head going down as she swung a fire extinguisher straight into our attacker’s face. Blood sprayed as his nose shattered and he flew backwards, landing in a heap on the floor right as boots thundered against the floor outside the room. “The cavalry has arrived,” I said thickly, swaying as the pain caught up to me. She dropped the fire extinguisher and the last thing I saw was her springing forward, her arms outstretched as if she had a hope in hell of catching me.
***
The loud blare of a horn jerked me out of the memory, and I hastily corrected my drifting Harley as headlights came directly at me. I blinked, my vision going blurry, as two headlights became four, and I knew it wouldn’t be long before I lost consciousness. I focused on the bike’s vibration beneath me, reciting, “527 Longmire. 527 Longmire. 527 Longmire.” The words slurred together, but I didn’t stop repeating them. The address was the only thing keeping me going besides the throbbing pain in my shoulder which had begun to fade to a dull ache.
I knew that was a bad sign but I had no choice but to keep going. I couldn’t afford the questions a hospital would ask. I patted the pocket where I’d stashed the note. Blood coated the scrap of paper, smudging the address I’d memorized hours earlier, but the tightness in my chest eased slightly at knowing it was still there.
I steered off the highway, the bike dipping as I hit a patch of gravel, and I had to use all my strength to keep it upright. Black edged out my vision and I slowed automatically, saying a desperate prayer as I clung to consciousness. My stomach rolled as saliva filled my mouth and I spit, trying hard to stay on the road. Thunder rumbled, my only warning as the sky opened up.
“A little further,” I promised myself, the bike weaving dangerously on the now slick road. The area was dark, only the glow from my headlight piercing the night, so when lights appeared in the distance I wasn’t sure if they were real or a hallucination. As I came closer, I realized it was a house and the mailbox read, “527 Longmire.”
I almost missed the driveway, shocked I’d actually made it. I rolled to a stop, almost dropping my Harley before I could get the kickstand down. I stumbled off the bike, gripping my elbow as I tried to brace my shoulder, suddenly unsure I could make it to the door as rain poured down, making it hard to see where I was going.
I staggered forward, following the light, and winced when I slammed into something, causing a loud bang. I realized it was a shutter on the house and rested my hand against the wall, using it for support as I veered toward the front door. Wind rattled the shutter I’d hit, banging it against the wall as I came to a glass storm door.
I fell against it, blood smearing the glass as I lifted my arm and dropped it, making a loud bang. Lightning split the sky above, bright enough for me to see the wooden door as thunder cracked above, indicating the storm had followed me.
I was about to knock again when a sliver of light appeared, accompanied by another flash of lightning, revealing a startled face. Her eyes widened and she yanked the door open, as I hurriedly straightened.
There was no mistaking those eyes, but I was more interested in the rest of her face, my hungry gaze taking in each detail. A small scar bisected her upper lip marring the perfect Cupid’s bow, but it didn’t detract from her beauty. A pert nose and rounded chin completed the picture and I filed it all away for the future. The storm door creaked as she pushed against it, her gaze focused on my shoulder.
“It looks like I’m gonna need to call that favor in, Doc.” She shook her head as I came inside, losing my balance and almost knocking her down. I caught myself and leaned against the wall, catching my breath as she inspected the hole in my shoulder.
“You need a hospital,” she informed me, the words automatic since we both knew why I’d shown up on her doorstep.
“They report gunshot wounds, Doc,” I commented tiredly.
“I’m aware, but you’ve lost a lot of blood,” she retorted, concern drawing her mouth tight.
“Just need you to patch me up and I’ll be on my way,” I answered, my words slurring, as exhaustion threatened to pull me under. She closed the door as rain gusted in and yanked on my sleeve.
“Come on, you’ve got to get yourself to the couch unless you want to spend the night on the floor,” she warned and I shoved myself away from the wall, the room tilting dizzily. “I need to get that wound closed so you don’t lose any more blood.” I could barely hear her over the buzzing in my ears, but took a step forward, slinging my good arm over her shoulder, needing the support. We shuffled toward her living room, the couch seeming to get further away with each slow step, until finally she eased out from my shoulder, nudging me and I collapsed onto the couch.
I kept my eyes closed, the absence of her scent telling me she’d left the room, and took shallow breaths as I tried to stay awake. I knew when she came back, the air stirring as she settled across from me, sitting on the edge of the coffee table. I cracked my eyes open, the light piercing. “Thanks, Doc,” I
murmured, grateful she was willing to help me.
“Don’t thank me yet,” she snapped, worry sharpening her words. She dug through a bag sitting next to her, grabbing a bottle.
“You’re helping me,” I mumbled, the words almost intelligible as she leaned forward, tugging on my kutte.
“Yeah,” she agreed, sliding my kutte off. “I said I would.” Our eyes met and my heart gave a hard thump. “I just didn’t expect you to call your favor in so quickly, Clutch.”
“If it makes you feel better, I didn’t either,” I joked weakly.
She ripped the white undershirt I wore, exposing more of my shoulder. “I need to get the bullet out.”
“You aren’t going to ask?” I gestured to the hole in my shoulder.
She spared me a brief glance as she prodded the wound and sharp breath hissed out of me. “Time for that later. I’m more worried about keeping you alive.”
“Don’t sugarcoat it, Doc,” I muttered, squeezing my eyes shut as she poked at my shoulder. “Think you can take it easy there?”
“I am,” she said dryly. “It would be helpful if you went ahead and passed out.”
I peered at her through slitted eyes, positive she was joking, but her face was serious. “Do what you have to do, Doc. I can handle it.”
“Uh huh,” she murmured, pressing a little harder than necessary with her thumb and my arm swung up automatically to knock her away. She dodged and I stopped myself right before I would have hit her. “See? I get it. You’re a tough guy. But you can’t help yourself.”
“I won’t do it again,” I swore, adrenaline coursing through me at the near miss. I’d never hit a woman and I sure as hell wasn’t going to start with her. “I don’t hit women.”
“I’m sure you don’t,” she assured me, right as I felt a tiny prick in my neck. “And I wouldn’t want to ruin your record so I just need you to take a little nap for me.”
“Whaaa –” I didn’t get a chance to finish as the world started to grow fuzzy. My last sight was of a man coming up behind her, but I couldn’t form the words to warn her. Fear pounded through me as the blackness took me.
Renegade (Southern Rebels MC Book 4) Page 7
