Seeking Vengeance

by McDonald, M. P.

  She blew a few strands of hair out of her face as she gave thanks that Kelsie slept like a rock. Molly pulled a chair out from the table and angled it. “Put him here, and Johnny, you need to grab a dishrag and clean up any blood on the floor.”

  “Okay, but then I have to go take Tuck back to the bar to get his bike.”

  On her way to retrieve some items she needed, Molly spun back to Johnny. “What? You're leaving?”

  Johnny wrung out a rag and shot her a guilty look. “I'll be back as soon as I can.”

  Molly marched up to her brother, flicking a worried glance at the man in the chair as she passed. The guy listed to the right and she hoped he wouldn't topple off the seat. She snagged the back of Johnny's collar. “Come here. I need to speak with you.”

  “But—”

  “Now!” She led the way to the hallway and gave him a little shove. “Are you crazy?”

  Johnny's eyes widened. “What do you mean?”

  “You arrive on my doorstep late at night with some biker who was shot up in some kind of…of…brawl. You drop him off in my kitchen as if I run a twenty-four hour clinic and then think you can just leave? What am I supposed to do with him?”

  At his blank look, she poked his shoulder with a stiffened pointer finger. “I have a six year-old daughter, in case you've forgotten.”

  He shrugged. “So?”

  “So? That's all you can say? You bring a strange man in here and put us at risk? What were you thinking?”

  “I was thinking you're almost a doctor, and if anyone could help him, it'd be you.” He stared at the floor and shuffled his feet a few times but then raised his gaze, his eyes pleading. “He saved my life, Molls. What was I supposed to do?”

  “He saved your life?”

  Johnny twisted the rag in his hands and nodded. “A couple of Ravens showed up as we were leaving the bar. Sam yelled out a warning, and I looked up, but froze. He knocked me to the ground.”

  That did put a different spin on the situation and added a sense of obligation. She hated obligations. “Ravens?”

  Nodding, Johnny added, “But don’t worry. Snake wasn’t one of them.”

  Molly shot a glance back into the kitchen before closing the few feet between her and Johnny. “What have I told you about mentioning that name in this house?”

  Dipping his head, Johnny nodded then shrugged. “I know. You hate it, but Kelsie’s not even awake, so what’s the big deal?”

  “The big deal is that while the name is fitting, I’ll grant you that, I won’t have you buying into his mystique load of crap and that’s what that name does. It makes him seem dangerous and evil. But really, he’s just a greedy, power hungry…jerk,” Molly finished, her hands fisted at her sides as she leaned towards Johnny. She had an endless mental list of foul names for the man, but she refused to even voice them out of stubbornness. Jerk was perfect and wouldn’t feed anyone’s ego. Blowing out a breath, she took a step back and smoothed a hand over her hair as she sought to get back to the topic at hand. With a vague gesture towards the kitchen, she asked, “And his name is Sam?” At least it wasn't some silly nickname.

  “Yeah, and he seemed like a nice enough guy before. Bought drinks all night long.”

  “He's after something. You know that, right?” There was a fishy smell about the situation, but then again, that was par for the course where her brother was concerned. She turned from him. “Get the blood cleaned up, take Tuck back, and then return here pronto. This isn't a hospital and one year of med school doesn't make me a doctor. I'm just a paramedic.”

  “You're the best paramedic I know.” He gave her one of his trademark grins and she rolled her eyes.

  Johnny reached out and tousled her hair in the way he'd done since he was a kid. He knew she hated when he did that. It annoyed her how it called attention to the unruly curls that she fought to keep under control, but it was also his way of reminding her that they were siblings. She swatted his hand. “Knock it off. Besides, I'm the only paramedic you know.”

  His grin only widened. “I'll be back in in a few hours, Molls. I swear it.” The screen door slammed as he left.

  Molly shook her head and went to bathroom medicine cabinet and juggled peroxide, bandages, and tape down the hall to the kitchen. Setting the supplies beside the paper towels and clean rags on the table, she tried to think if she'd need anything else. She grabbed an old bath towel from the linen closet as an afterthought, tossing it on the floor just in front of Sam's foot. His eyes followed her movements but every few seconds he closed them and a muscle in his jaw tensed. His color didn’t look so good and she wondered just how badly he was hurt. Johnny had made it sound like the guy just had a few scratches.

  “I'm sorry to cause you trouble, ma'am.” His voice was deep with a hint of roughness.

  Molly tore off strips of tape and hung them on the edge of the table so they'd be easy to reach when she needed a piece. “I'll be honest. I'm not thrilled about my brother dropping you off here. I'll do what I can, but I'm not a doctor, just a paramedic.”

  “I appreciate it.”

  She moved to the sink, filled a bowl with warm water and returned, setting it on the table beside his chair. The back of his leather jacket had a gash angling from just below the shoulder blade area, ending at the right shoulder. Great. He could have a spinal injury and here she was treating him with tape and paper towels at her kitchen table. “You should go to a hospital. You know that, don't you?”

  Sam lifted his head, his eyes hard. “That's not an option.”

  He moved as if to stand, and she rested a hand on his shoulder, pressing down lightly. “Sit. I said I'd do what I could, but I'd be remiss if I didn't advise you that you'd be better off with a real doctor.”

  He gasped, grimacing, and she snatched her hand away. “Sorry. I hope I didn't hurt you.”

  He nodded, but his face was pale against his dark hair. “No. It's okay.”

  “Listen, maybe I'm getting ahead of myself. Let's take a look and see what we're dealing with, okay? If it's beyond my scope, I'll let you know.”

  His eyes met hers. Not quite green, but not quite hazel, they wavered for a moment as he let out a deep breath. “Yeah. Okay.”

  “First, I'm Molly—Johnny's sister.”

  “Johnny?” His brow knit in confusion.

  “You probably know him as Flea.” She shook her head and couldn't hold back the sarcasm. “His buddies in that motorcycle,” she made air quotes with her fingers, “club, gave him that stupid nickname.”

  “Ah. Yeah. I figured it wasn't his given name.”

  Molly chuckled. “No, his mother was smarter than that. Not much, but a little.” She retrieved other items she'd need out of a cupboard, including a Dutch oven to act as a bucket when she cleaned his leg, as well as a pitcher she usually used for making lemonade.

  “I take it you don't share a mother?”

  “No. He's my half-brother. He said your name is Sam.” She set the Dutch oven on the floor and straightened, putting her hands on her hips. “Do you have a last name, Sam?”

  He averted his face. “I do.”

  She waited but when he wasn't forthcoming, she shrugged. “Whatever. Let's get this over with. You need to take off your jacket.”

  He unzipped it but had trouble getting it off. She grasped the right cuff and he pulled his arm as she eased the leather over his shoulder and slid it down his arm. Molly stilled at the sight of a gun in a holster strapped over his shoulder. “I don't allow weapons in my home.”

  She expected defiance, but Sam merely unbuckled the holster and set it on the table. “I don't much like them either. You can hang onto it if you want.”

  Molly stared at the weapon, then picked it up by the holster straps and put it on top of her refrigerator for the time being. Turning back to Sam, she said, “Before we go any further, do you have any more surprises in store for me?”

  Wearily, he shook his head. “No, ma'am.”

  He didn't sound li
ke a biker and she cocked her head, studying him. So he was a polite one. If it was one thing she'd learned over the years, it was that bikers came from all walks of life. She even knew a few doctors who put on the leather and tried to be tough on the weekend. Thinking of leather, she glanced at the jacket still in her hand. The lining was saturated with blood. No wonder he looked so shocky. She tossed it in a corner. “I think that's beyond repair.”

  He didn't act too upset about the loss, and that made her wonder. Most motorcycle guys she knew would rather give up an arm than their jacket. “Before I start working, I want you to drink something. You need fluids.” She raised an eyebrow at him as she moved to the refrigerator. “Non-alcoholic fluids,” she clarified.

  She had milk, water, juice and a couple of diet sodas. The juice would have to do. As she reached for it, she noticed the bottle of children's electrolyte solution in the back. She'd bought it when Kelsie had been sick with a stomach bug the month before. Perfect.

  She poured some in a large glass and handed it to him and hid a smile when he gagged on the first swallow.

  “What is this crap?” He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and glared at her.

  So much for Mr. Politeness. “It's what you get when you're dehydrated and need fluid replacement. It's not like I have an IV in my medicine cabinet. Quit acting like a baby and drink it.”

  “I'm not dehydrated. I've been drinking all afternoon.”

  She thought she'd detected the faint odor of whiskey on his breath, but Johnny's had been a lot stronger. “That's why you're dehydrated—that, and blood loss.”

  She rifled through her junk drawer for an old pair of bandage scissors, ignoring his muttering about how she was trying to poison him. Finding the scissors, she moved to his side again. “I need to cut your t-shirt off, unless you're able to get it off yourself.”

  He glanced at his blood-soaked shirt and shook his head. “It's not like I can ever wear this again. Go for it.”

  Molly made quick work of the shirt and tried to hide her dismay at the deep gouge across his back. She wasn’t an expert, but she had seen a few bullet wounds on the job before. One end of the gouge was deeper and had a large bruise already radiating from the impact. “I can clean this up and throw some butterfly tape on it, but I still think you need to see a doctor, get some x-rays, antibiotics and stitches.” She cleaned the wound, dabbing the edges with the clean rags.

  He sucked in a breath between his teeth as she worked, but otherwise kept silent. She did the same, working quickly as she smeared antibiotic ointment along the wound, laid clean wet gauze over it and secured it with tightly crossed strips of tape. Over that, she set a large dry dressing, taping that loosely over the other.

  Next, she went to work on his leg, tearing his jeans up the seam to his knee to get a better look at the injury. The bullet had passed through the muscle of his calf, leaving an exit wound on the inside of his leg through the thickest part of the muscle. Concerned about damaged nerves and broken bones, she removed his boot and sock, and assessed the limb. There was no deformity and he was able to wiggle his toes when asked although he grunted in pain. The pedal pulse was strong—that was a good sign. She ran her hands down the sides of his leg to his ankle, feeling for any irregularities, then had him rotate his foot.

  His hands tightened on the seat of the chair.

  “Are you okay?”

  He nodded, but when she released his foot, he blew out a deep breath and perspiration dotted his face.

  Molly frowned. “Sorry. I just want to make sure you have full range of motion.”

  “Yeah. I know.” He cleared his throat. “No apology necessary. I'm good.”

  Blood loss was moderate compared to his back. That was a relief. Fluids would help, but they wouldn't replace a transfusion if he'd been hemorrhaging. Molly set the boot aside for the moment, but hoped it would be salvageable. Her closet was full of shoes, but she didn’t own any that were his size. A snicker bubbled out at the image of this rough and tumble biker in a pair of her strappy sandals. His eyebrow arched at her giggle, but he didn't comment.

  Unable to get a good angle to work on his leg, Molly dragged another chair out and helped him rest his leg on it. She poured a pitcher of clean tap water over the wound, irrigating it until the water cascading into the Dutch oven on the floor beneath had only a faint pink tint. The edges of the wounds were clean, not ragged, so she just added the ointment and a loose dressing. “When was the last time you had a tetanus shot?”

  “Last summer.” He held up his hand, palm out, and she saw a faint pink scar. “I cut myself.” His quick answer satisfied her that he was telling the truth. Most people had no idea.

  “Good.” Pointing to his glass of electrolyte solution, she said, “Drink up. Johnny should be back soon.”

  He grimaced but took another sip. When he tried to hold back another gag, she took pity on him, and dumped the solution in the sink. Moving to the fridge, she pulled out the orange juice and refilled his glass with it instead. It occurred to her that she hadn't offered anything for pain. All she had was ibuprofen, but it would at least take the edge off a little. She found the bottle on the counter where she'd left it after taking a few this afternoon, and shook out three, handing them to him with the juice. “Here.”

  “Thanks.” His mouth quirked into a ghost of a smile. He downed the pills and must have been thirsty despite his earlier claims of not being dehydrated because he tipped the glass, draining it. Afterwards, he rested his head against the seat back and closed his eyes.

  Molly put the ibuprofen away and turned back to find Sam dozing. Deciding sleep was the best thing for him at the moment, she let him rest and set about cleaning the mess in her kitchen. Gathering up the bloody rags, she disposed of them then dumped the Dutch oven and used the towel to mop up any splatters on the floor.

  The last thing she did was rinse the boot, then stuffed the towel she’d used on the floor into the boot, attempting to soak up as much water as she could. She hoped the leather wouldn't shrink, but if she hadn't rinsed the boot, it would have shrunk anyway from the wet blood.

  Holding the boot in her hand, she thought for a minute. If she put something in it to mimic a foot, it might not shrink too badly. Five minutes later, she found an unopened bag of brown sugar and smiled. She wrapped it in another layer of plastic wrap in case the bag broke and then crammed it in the boot, molding the sugar into the approximate shape of a foot.

  She glanced at the clock when she finished. Johnny should have been back by now. Damn him. It was already two in the morning. In less than five hours, she'd have to wake Kelsie, get her off to school, and after that, run a bunch of errands.

  Exhausted, she sank onto a chair and scrubbed her hands through her hair. Sam still slept, but he'd be stiff if he stayed like that much longer. The medic in her took over, wondering if there was something more she should do. He probably needed to be on antibiotics, but if he refused to go to the hospital, there wasn't much she could do.

  She rested her head on her crossed arms on the table. Where in the world was Johnny? The last thing she wanted was to wait for her brother to come and retrieve his friend. She turned her head against her arm and tried to stifle a yawn, but lost the battle. When she opened her eyes, she found Sam watching her, but his gaze wasn't threatening, just tired.

  He blinked, and she envied his thick eyelashes. Why did guys always get them? “I can wait for your brother on the front porch. I don't want to put you through any more trouble than I already have.”

  Molly flushed. It wasn't his fault her brother never kept his word. “No, that's okay.” She straightened, wincing at the kink in her back. “Besides, I'm pretty sure Johnny isn't coming back. At least, not tonight.”

  “Well, I'll head out on my own then. I think Tuck gave me back my keys.” He patted his front pockets, and then fished into the right one, pulling out a key ring. He sat forward and eased his leg off the chair, giving a small groan when his bare foot hit the f
loor. He glanced at the spot she had first tossed his boot, before turning to her with a questioning look.

  “Oh yeah. I had to clean it. It's going to take a while to dry.”

  “How am I going to ride my bike without a boot?” He waved a hand at his foot.

  She almost laughed at his befuddled expression. “I guess you can't. I put it out on the front steps where the sun will hit it first thing. It should dry in no time tomorrow.”

  He stood and hobbled to the hallway.

  Molly followed behind him, puzzled. “Where are you going?”

  Sam turned. “Out to the porch. I'll have to put the boot on or it'll never fit me again.”

  She rolled her eyes. “You can't sleep on my couch with a wet boot on your foot. I won't allow it.”

  His eyebrows rose. “You'll let me sleep on your couch?” The hope in his eyes transformed his face and lent him a boyish charm.

  “What else can I do? I have to get to bed, and you're stuck here.”

  He watched her for a few seconds, undefinable emotions flitting through his eyes, then he nodded and said, “Thank you.” The boyishness replaced by weariness.

  She made up a bed on the sofa while he cleaned up in the bathroom. Who was this guy? He wasn't like the usual friends Johnny hung out with. No matter how many times she warned him about the bikers, he just didn’t listen, but she remembered the fascination they held for her at one time. It seemed like a lifetime ago. Whatever appeal they had held for her was long gone and she couldn’t even recall what it was that she found so intriguing. She guessed it was the bad boy image. She smiled and shook out a blanket, letting it float down on to the sofa. Johnny couldn't fathom that Molly would rather spend an evening playing Candyland with her daughter than flying down the road on the back of a Harley.

  Her job took her away from home two nights a week as it was. Tucking the sheet under the cushions, she sighed. Kelsie had to stay at the sitter down the street on those days and even though she knew she should feel fortunate that she had a good one so close, she hated leaving her. The older woman liked the company and filled the role of grandmother for the little girl who never got to meet her own grandma.