by Sara Fawkes
All I wanted to do was break down and cry. My life felt like it was falling apart piece by piece. I sniffed and wiped my eyes with the back of my hand, and drew in a shaky breath before standing back up. Laying the folder on the chair, I fanned my face quickly to dry my skin, then pasted a smile on my lips and entered my grandmother’s room again.
***
I didn’t go back to work afterwards, didn’t bother to call in to tell them where I was. Apathy had taken hold; nothing I did mattered, so why do anything? The drive from Folsom to Rancho Cordova was easy but I barely noticed, intent only on getting to my bed and having a good cry in private. My life was threatening to overwhelm me; I needed space and time to think in peace, at least for a few hours. I unlocked my door, moved inside, then gave a squeak as somebody grabbed my wrist.
“Don’t scream.”
The louder cry I was about to make lodged in my throat at the familiar voice. Ash leaned against the entry closet, his shoulders hunched over as if hiding something. The grip on my wrist was like iron. Frustration spilled over as I wrenched my hand away. “Will you stop breaking into my apartment?” I hissed.
He gave a breathy laugh. “But it’s so much fun.”
I opened my mouth to argue, then paused. For the first time I noticed how pale he looked, and that he was swaying in place. Anger spilled away to concern. “Are you all right?”
He nodded as the swaying grew worse, fumbling with his phone. Then his arm fell to his side as if his arm lost all strength. The phone skittered across the linoleum and he leaned forward, murmuring, “No cops.”
I thought he was reaching for his phone but he kept falling past my legs, landing down face first on my entryway. I stared at him for a second, stunned, then quickly knelt down beside him, pushing him over onto his back. Something dark stained his jeans by one hip, and lifting up the shirt and leather jacket, I sucked in a breath. Blood, dark and thick, clung to my hand and I stared at it wordlessly.
Oh, fuck.
Chapter Seven
My knuckles were burning within the first few knocks but I continued my desperate pounding on the door. “Micah, if you’re in there, you’ve got to open up!”
The door wrenched open, and a shaggy-haired boy squinted down at me. “Eve? What…?”
I barged past him into the apartment, looking around desperately. “I need your help. Where do you keep your first aid stuff?”
Micah blinked at me, apparently stunned that I was suddenly in his apartment. He was tall and skinny, and right at that moment wearing only his boxers and tank top. “I was taking a nap,” he said, annoyed.
“Look, I know you were a paramedic before you went into the medical program. Last year, I saw you still had a bag of stuff when Catelyn’s daughter broke her wrist in the play area. I have someone that needs your help or he’s going to die.”
That got finally got him moving. Gone was the bleary-eyed student; I was talking to the medic now. “What’s his condition?” he asked, moving to the entryway closet and pulling a big red bag off the top shelf.
“He’s bleeding out through at least one hole in his side, maybe two. I didn’t want to move him to check but I don’t know if it’s a gunshot or stabbing.”
“Jesus, Eve, you need to call 9-1-1!”
He was right and I knew it, but I shook my head. “He said no cops. You’re all I have.” Micah wasn’t moving fast enough so I grabbed his arm and dragged him toward the door.
“Geez, I’m going, I’m going!”
With his long legs, Micah easily kept up with me on the two flights of stairs to my floor. I heard him grumbling about medical emergencies only when he needed to study but ignored him, letting him go first into my apartment. He knelt down beside Ash’s prone body and peeled back the now-soaking shirt from the wound.
Cursing under his breath, he turned to me. “He may need a lot more than just stitches. He’s lost a shit ton of blood, that alone might kill him if he doesn’t get to a hospital soon…”
“Tell me what you need and I’ll get it. Please, Micah.”
He cast worried eyes between Ash and myself, and then opened his bag. “Get me towels, a large bowl of water, and any first aid stuff you might have.”
***
An hour later, Ash was lying on my bed passed out, and Micah was pacing my living room. “What the hell have you gotten me into? He was stabbed, Eve, and needs to get to a hospital. I don’t know how much blood he’s lost…”
“But he’s okay for now, right?”
“Both cuts seemed superficial, slices more than stabs, and I managed to get those closed up. His heart rate’s weak but steady.” Micah blew out a breath, running his hand through shaggy dark hair. “As long as he doesn’t reopen the wound, he should be all right. I gave him something for the pain but keep away from any blood thinners like aspirin if he needs anything more.”
The tension I’d been holding flowed out of my shoulders, and I hugged the tall paramedic. I could still feel the tension in his body. “Thank you.”
“I’m serious, Eve, what have you gotten into?”
“I don’t know,” I murmured, letting him go and shaking my head. “But he said no cops and you were all I had.”
“Well, try not to make this a habit. He’s probably going to need antibiotics, but I don’t have any of that.” He frowned down at me, and then gave me another quick sideways hug. “Take care of yourself,” he said softly before slipping out the door.
I closed and locked everything up, and then padded back to my bedroom. Ash hadn’t moved, and I carefully lay down on the queen bed beside him, watching his chest move up and down. His skin was still pale and he was cold to the touch. I pulled the covers further up his body, chewing on my lip worriedly. I had no contact information for anyone in his club, no way to get in touch with anyone who could help.
Wait a minute… He’d been holding a phone before collapsing, trying to call somebody. I rolled off the bed and hurried to the front door and sure enough, there was the phone, backed up into the corner behind the door. Picking it up, I scrolled through the various numbers on recent calls, but all they were to me were numbers. I switched over to his contacts, most of which were nicknames, but there was one that I recognized. Pressing the number for “Road Rash”, I put the phone up to my ear as it began to ring.
The phone picked up, and a dark voice came over the line. “Where the hell are you? Your old man’s about to send out the search party.”
Oh boy. “Um, hello, my name is Eve. I’m a friend of Ash’s, he’s here at my apartment. He’s been stabbed, but I managed to get that under control.”
Silence greeted me on the other end of the line, and I started to get nervous. “I spoke with your girlfriend a few nights ago at the clubhouse party…”
“What apartments?”
I hated doing it, but reluctantly gave them my address. I’d barely finished when the line clicked over dead. Annoyed and more than a little apprehensive, I paced the living room, unsure whether or not I should be there when the cavalry arrived.
A groan came from my bedroom, and I put aside thoughts of fleeing to check on my patient. Ash was awake, although a bit bleary. “Hey,” I said, hurrying to his side. “You shouldn’t move around until we get a real doctor to look at you.”
“This wasn’t my first rodeo, you know. The cuts were shallow enough, I’ll be fine.” He still winced however as he adjusted himself on the bed, pressing his hand against the taut bandage around his belly. “Who was the doctor?”
“A friend here in the complex patched you up.” I moved the pillows around his body so he’d have an easier time leaning against the wall. “What happened to you, who’d you get into a fight with?”
“Who’s asking, the reporter or the woman?”
I leaned away, staring at him in disappointment. The truth about my job hung between us like a stone wall, and I tried not to blame him for being cautious. “Fine, don’t tell me,” I said, hating the grumpy note in my voice. “Just a
t least tell me you didn’t kill anybody.”
“Well,” he hedged, squinting up at me, “do you want me to say that or to tell you the truth?”
I leaned back against the wall and put a hand over my face, sliding down to the floor, “Oh, shit, what the hell am I involved in now?”
Ash coughed, and I looked over to see him smiling at me. “Gotcha.”
I stared at his grinning face for several seconds, and then pointed my finger at him. “You? Suck.”
He waggled his eyebrows. “You want me to demonstrate my sucking skills?”
I rolled my eyes. “Only you would think about having sex right after being stabbed.”
“Hey, I wasn’t the one that said it.”
Who knew Mr. Badass Biker had a sense of humor? Groaning, I shook my head just as the rumble of motorcycles came from outside. “Sounds like the cavalry’s arrived.”
His face was immediately alert. “Who’d you call?”
“The only name I knew in your phone, Road Rash.” I tensed, wondering if I’d done the wrong thing, but he settled back into the pillows.
“That’ll work.”
I walked over the window and peered outside. Sure enough, a handful of motorcycles were already parked outside, taking up any open space available. More were streaming down my apartment’s small driveway, and I swallowed. “How many are going to come up here?”
“As many as they think necessary for the situation.”
Nervous, I left the room and headed out my front door, looking down the stairs. Several dark heads were already ascending the steps, and I recognized the patch on their backs as Ash’s. I stepped out of the way, pointing wordlessly into my apartment as they marched past me. None of these four men were familiar to me, but when nobody else came up the stairs I hurried inside after them.
They’d already found Ash in the bedroom, and I stayed along the edges, watching as they checked out the wound on his side. I got a few looks but for the most part was ignored, which I preferred anyway. There wasn’t much chatter; most of the faces were grim, so it surprised me when one of the men cuffed Ash on the side of the head. “You big sissy, that’s hardly a scratch.”
The rest of the group laughed as Ash lifted himself upright. “Yeah, the little lady here made it sound like you were on death’s door,” another short biker said, jerking his thumb toward me.
I shrank back at the attention, but they just seemed curious. From the bed, I heard Ash making introductions. “Guys, this is Eve Parker. Eve, this is Magnus, Rooster, Pitch and Road Rash.”
“Since when did you get an old lady?” Pitch murmured, and I bristled at the name as Ash shook his head.
“She ain’t my old lady, not yet anyway.” He stared at me, face inscrutable. “She’s a reporter, doing research on motorcycle clubs. Looking for her big story.”
At the word reporter, several of the other men’s faces shut down. One man’s face, Magnus, grew openly hostile, and I gripped the door frame nervously.
“She’s already talked to Sharpe,” Ash continued, “who I’m sure told her all about us dangerous biker gangs. Isn’t that right, sweetheart?”
What was he doing? I could tell these men were assessing me, seeing if I was a threat, and I shot a look at Ash. He was watching me placidly, as if waiting to see what I’d do. Road Rash studied me for a moment, and then turned a quizzical look to Ash. “Why bring her around then?”
“Because goddamn, she’s got a sweet ass.”
I glared at Ash, but his statement seemed to have broken the tension. Road Rash guffawed and slapped Ash’s shoulder. “Fuckin’ horn dog.”
My front door open again, and I saw another biker enter. He was tall and thin, his lankiness emphasized by the leathers he wore, but I could tell immediately that he was well-respected. All four bikers made room for him, filing out to allow him inside the bedroom. I felt Magnus’ glare on me, making my skin prickle, but I didn’t look back at him as they headed to my kitchen.
It was hard to read the face of the newcomer; his beard, long and dark with twin white lines down the edges, hid his expression. He and Ash stared at one another for a moment before the other man spoke. “You look like shit.”
“Yeah, well, nothing new there, right?”
The older biker grunted. “Tell me what happened.”
“I was at a stoplight. Two bikes came up from my six, pulled up next to me. I look at one, and next thing I know, something punches me in the kidneys. They both took off and I followed for a while until I realized something wasn’t right.” Ash’s eyes flickered to me. “I was in the area, so decided to stop in here.”
The older biker looked over at me. “And who’s this?”
Everyone’s eyes turned my way and I froze, a bit uncertain about the scrutiny, but Ash saved me. “This is Eve, she helped patch me up. Eve, this is Damian, the club’s President.”
Jackal meanwhile was still sizing me up. “You a nurse?”
I shook my head. “A neighbor is a paramedic, helped me patch him up.”
He nodded again, and then stuck out his hand. “You took care of my boy. I appreciate that.”
His words were slow to sink in. I shook his hand, frowning, then pointed between the two of them. “He’s your son?”
“Pride and joy, when he isn’t being a total dumbass.” He peered down at Ash. “Any colors on their rags?”
Ash shook his head. “Their jackets didn’t have any club patches, at least none that I could see. The attack was deliberate though—neither bike had license plates.”
The older man blew out a breath, face inscrutable. He stared down for a long moment, then leaned down and ruffled Ash’s hair. “You need to grow yourself a beard or they won’t take you seriously. You look like a fucking kid.”
Chuckles came from the other men in the room as Ash rubbed his chin. “I like being underestimated, it gets the job done quicker.”
“That’s my boy. You good enough to travel?”
I bit back the No that threatened to slip out. The question hadn’t been aimed at me but I glanced worriedly at Ash as he nodded.
“All right,” Damian said, “give me a minute.”
When the club President was out of the room, I whirled back on Ash. “Are you trying to get me killed?” I hissed, my anger only rising when he shrugged.
“The sooner they knew the truth, the better.” He watched me as I paced nervously. “You wouldn’t have liked it if they’d found out you spoke with the good Detective on their own. I probably would have been dispatched to take care of you myself.”
I eyed him nervously, but he seemed completely calm saying it. “What do you mean ‘take care of me’?”
Instead of answering, he held out a hand and beckoned me toward him. “Come here.”
Was he crazy to think that, right after he’d indirectly threatened me, I’d just walk into his arms? When his hand didn’t lower after a long moment however, I looked away, then stepped close to the bed. Ignoring his hand, I sat down beside his legs, close enough where he could barely touch me but far enough that I could get away if he tried. “What do you want?” I asked tersely.
To my surprise, he actually cracked a smile at that. The twin dimples made him look almost angelic, and I had to remind myself there was nothing cherubic-like with this man. “I like you.”
I snorted at this. Duh. “You make it a habit of rubbing up against ladies you don’t like?”
He grinned suddenly. “Oh yeah, definitely.”
I stared at him and then, remembering all the girls I’d seen at the clubhouse, looked away. Yeah, he probably did, and for some reason that disappointed me. It was stupid to think otherwise given what little I already knew about the lifestyle. That women threw themselves at these men shouldn’t be a surprise, but it hurt to imagine Ash’s hands on any of them. I recognized the jealousy but couldn’t make myself stop it.
Fingers wrapped around mine, squeezing lightly. “But I really like you.”
I stared at our l
inked hands for a moment, then up at Ash himself, not knowing what to say to this. He looked serious, as if the declaration meant something more to him.
Footfalls at the entrance to the room broke the moment, and I pulled my hand free as Damian poked his head back inside the room. If he’d seen or heard anything about what we’d said, he didn’t mention it. “Van’s here. Let’s take you home.”
He and the other biker Magnus lifted Ash off the bed and led him out of the room. After a moment’s hesitation, I followed them out into my living room. Three of the bikers were in my kitchen, wolfing down whatever snacks they could find, and I had to hold back the urge to shoo them out. Damian snapped his fingers without looking behind him, and the men abandoned their food, leaving a half-eaten cheese block open on the counter but taking the crackers.
Ash caught my eye just as they turned the corner out the door, and I saw him lift his hand in a wave. Then he disappeared down the stairs, leaving Magnus at the open door. The biker glared at me for a long moment, and I tensed, then he shut the door behind him, leaving me alone in my tiny apartment.
The place was a mess, pillows I’d kept on the couch having been swiped to the floor to make room, food sitting out open on the counters. It looked like my apartment had been raided by a bunch of bachelors who thought they had a maid to pick everything up.
The observation probably wasn’t far off the mark.
Sighing, I put away the perishable foods and picked the pillows up off the ground. It occurred to me that I might want to call into work and let them know why I’m missing, but it was late and nobody had called me yet. If they’d forgotten about me or didn’t notice me gone, who was I to remind them of that fact?
Locking my door, I sat down at my desk then began the tedious task of researching hospice and assisted living places in the Sacramento area.
