by Nicole James
“You get her?” Undertaker asked quietly.
Blood shook his head. “Guy was alone. Sandman’s puttin’ him in the room.”
The room. Cat wondered what that meant.
Undertaker nodded, then his eyes flicked to her. “Sorry, kid.”
The man in the chair stood then, drawing her attention. He extended his hand toward her. “How do you do? I’m Dr. Richard Sanders.”
“Dr. Sanders.” She shook his hand. “Catherine Randall. Call me Cat.”
He glanced at Blood, then to her. “I understand you treated Blood.”
She nodded. “Yes, Doctor. I’m a nurse.”
“Mind if I have a look at your patient?” he asked with a nice smile, gesturing to Blood.
“Please.” Cat wasn’t used to doctors being so kind or respectful to nurses.
Dr. Sanders grabbed his black leather doctor’s bag from the floor and gestured toward a couch against the back wall. “If you don’t mind.”
Blood shot Undertaker a look that said, Is this really necessary?
“Humor me,” his President growled.
Blood moved to the couch, pulled his cut off, tossed it over the arm, and lay back.
Dr. Sanders pulled a pair of gloves and a mask from his bag and put them on. Then sat on the wooden coffee table and leaned to remove the bandage. He bent to examine the wound, front and back. “How was the patient when you first examined him, Ms. Randall?”
Cat suddenly felt like she was back in nursing school doing her nursing practicum. “Yesterday at five pm, his fever was one hundred and six. He was dehydrated with signs of delirium. His eyes were glassy. I examined the wound and found it to be a through and through gunshot wound. It appeared to have entered from the back and deflected off the rib, causing no severe damage. I irrigated and packed it. I changed the packing once, this morning. I started him on a saline IV and a course of antibiotics.”
“Which one?”
“Ampicillin sulbactam, three grams IV every six hours. I was able to give him three rounds. He finished the last one”—she glanced at her wristwatch—“three hours ago.”
Dr. Sanders nodded. “I’ll start him on oral.” He looked at Blood. “Appears to have only got the flesh and muscle. Lucky for you it didn’t enter the abdominal cavity. It looks good. She took good care of you.”
Blood met her eyes and grinned. “That she did.”
“The packing needs to be changed out every day until its healed. I’ll leave enough supplies for Ms. Randall to continue that at home until its healed, if you’d like.” He looked from Blood to Cat as if to ask if she’d be around to do these home healthcare duties.
Blood answered, not giving her a chance to speak. “That would be good.”
“All right then, let me write you a prescription for antibiotics and a pain killer. I’ll need to see you in my office end of the week to see how its healing.”
“Thank you, Doctor,” Blood said.
Undertaker approached and shook his hand. “Yes, thank you, Richard. I appreciate you coming to take a look at him.”
“Anytime.”
Dr. Sanders quickly wrote out the prescriptions. Then he turned and shook Cat’s hand. “Ms. Randall. If you’re ever looking for a job. I’ve got a small clinic, and I’d be glad to have you.”
“Thank you, Dr. Sanders.”
He cocked his head at her. “How are you holding up? Undertaker told me your sister was missing. I could write you a script for something to calm your nerves or to help you sleep, if you’d like.”
Cat shook her head. “No, thank you, Doctor. I’ll be fine.”
He nodded and patted her upper arm. “Well, if you change your mind, let me know.”
After he left, Undertaker turned to Blood. “I had the girls come in to fix some food.”
Blood nodded and patted his taut stomach. “I’m starved, and I know Cat hasn’t eaten either.”
Undertaker nodded then jerked his chin to Mooch. “Take her down and introduce her to the ladies. I need to speak to Blood. We’ll be down in a minute.”
Mooch nodded. “Sure thing, Boss. Follow me, honey.”
Cat looked to Blood, unsure about being separated from him.
He lifted his chin. “I’ll only be a few minutes, then I’ll come find you.”
She nodded and followed Mooch out.
***
Blood watched the door close, and then his eyes swung to his President, knowing the man wanted to discuss the Death Heads situation. “Find out anything?”
Undertaker lifted his chin toward his desk. “Sit down.”
They both took a seat.
“There wasn’t much left at that house. The boys swept it over… didn’t find shit. Nothing to tell us what the hell they’re up to. You want to tell me exactly what happened? How the hell did they get ahold of you?”
“Some girls by my place were getting hassled—”
“By girls, you mean—”
“Hookers. Anyway, I interceded. When I asked where the hell their pimp was, Cherry told me John had been busy lately with other things.”
Undertaker stroked over his beard, taking it all in and making his own summations. He knew all the players in this town; Blood didn’t have to explain who he was referring to. “And you went lookin’ for him?”
“I decided it’d be in all our best interests if I knew what was keeping him busy. What did Black Jack have that was more important for John to be doing than keep an eye on the girls?”
“It’s always a good idea to know what Black Jack is up to.”
“Anyway, I walked down toward his compound, came around the corner, and the last thing I remember is seeing four Death Heads standing in the alley. I woke up chained to that bed.”
“And the girl?”
“They brought her in to treat me. Infection was setting in. I was bad off. Thought I’d never get out of that room.”
“What I’m wondering is why they kept you alive.”
“Been wonderin’ that myself. Only thing I can come up with is to use me to get something from you.”
Undertaker stroked his beard, thinking.
“So what do the Death Heads have to do with him?” Blood asked.
“Don’t know. But we’re gonna find out.”
Blood stared at the scarred wood of the desktop. “I’m taken near his compound. The Death Heads are right there. They don’t want to kill me, or maybe someone stops them.”
“I think the clue to all this is sitting in the room downstairs.”
Blood nodded. “Dax. Let’s go talk to the man.” He started to rise from his chair, but Undertaker waved him back down.
“We will. First there’s something else I want to talk to you about.”
“What’s that?”
“Nurse Hotty down there.”
Blood’s jaw hardened. “What about her?”
“You helping her find her sister… What’s that about? Death Heads took her. So now it’s your job to fix this for her?”
“I’ve had worse jobs.” Blood gave him a look.
Undertaker read his look and grinned. “Jobs I’ve given you, huh?”
“Maybe.”
Undertaker leaned forward on his elbows. “Seriously. What’s in it for you?”
“Does there have to be something in it for me?”
Undertaker chuckled. “Yeah. Usually.”
“I promised her. I owe her. She saved my life. That means something to me.”
“It means something to me, too. And gratitude will be shone. But is that all this is? Is it just about you owing her?”
Blood had always been straight with Undertaker, since the day he’d met him. That was the one thing they had. So Blood gave him nothing less now. He shifted in his chair. “I owe her a debt, a debt I need to repay. More than that? Hell, I don’t know. I suppose if I had any sense I’d know there’s no shot with her.”
“Why do you say that?”
Blood shook his head slowly, trying to fin
d the words. “She’s been through some shit. She blames men like me for a lot of it.”
“Men like you?”
“MCs. Bikers. How do I roll around that? She’s got no reason to trust me.”
“Then give her one,” Undertaker replied, leaning back in his chair.
Blood huffed out a laugh. “It’s just that easy, huh?”
“If it’s what you want, you’ll bring her around. I have no worries on that. It’s you I’m worried about.”
“You’ve got no reason, old man.”
“Why do you think that? Because you made it out?”
“No, because I nearly died, and that changes everything.”
“Does it?”
“Yeah. Helps you to see what’s important.”
“Yeah? What’s that?”
“You should know. You found it once.”
Undertaker studied him with that “all knowing” look that could always cut right through everything Blood ever thought about hiding. “Love? That was a long time ago.”
Blood looked away, staring at a picture of a pretty dark-haired girl with sky-blue eyes Undertaker kept on the credenza. “I’ve seen what Shades and your daughter have. You had that once, too, with her mother.”
Undertaker followed his gaze, taking in the photo of his daughter, Skylar. “And you want that?”
Blood studied him and grudgingly admitted, “Maybe.”
“I want that for you, too. Son, there’s nothing I want more. But this girl…” Undertaker tipped his head toward the door. “I’m not sure she fits in, and I’m not sure she wants to fit in.”
Blood looked away and nodded. “Maybe, but she’s lookin’ at me to fix this. If I can’t find her sister—”
“Then she’ll need a strong shoulder to lean on and help her through this, and you’ve got that in spades, Blood.”
“No matter where it might lead?”
“Bonds are created in rough situations. Don’t forget that. And there’s something else you shouldn’t forget. Your first duty is to this club.”
Blood met his eyes with a burning look. “You think I need you to remind me of that?”
“Just makin’ sure you remember.” Undertaker lifted his chin toward the door. “Go get some chow with your girl. Dax can wait.”
“She’s not my girl.”
Undertaker grinned. “Your guest, then.”
Blood stood.
Undertaker stopped him before he got to the door. “Hey, if she’s not yours, am I having a room made up for her?”
That stopped him short, the vision of Cat in his bed momentarily flashing through his brain. While he’d like nothing more, he also knew now was not the time to press that issue. Soon, though. Very soon. He looked back at Undertaker and nodded.
Undertaker chuckled. “Fifty bucks says that doesn’t last the week.”
Blood gave him a look, and then he went in search of little Nurse Hotty.
***
Cat stood at the stove in the clubhouse kitchen, stirring a pot of gumbo. Mooch had brought her downstairs and led her through what appeared to be a big dining room to a large kitchen where three women were busy cooking. He’d gruffly introduced her to them, motioning to the one with the red kinky hair tied up in a bandana as Roxy and the other woman, who had a braid of dark hair going down her back, as Sissy. They were both middle-aged, wearing jeans and tank tops and tons of silver jewelry. Then he spoke to the third woman, who turned from the stove.
“Mama Ray, this is Cat. She’s with Blood.”
Mama Ray was an older woman dressed in jeans and a faded black tank top that read Support your local Evil Dead MC on the front in fading white lettering. She had short, gray curly hair and dark brown eyes.
“Mama Ray was Jaybird’s ol’ lady. She takes care of the clubhouse now.”
“Was?” Cat asked.
Mooch nodded. “He was killed a couple years back.”
“I’m so sorry,” Cat said, looking to the woman.
She gave Cat the once over, peering through her glasses. She noted the scrubs but didn’t reference them. Instead she asked, “Cat, huh? That a nickname or short for something?”
“It’s short for Catherine.”
“Huh. Can you cook, Cat?”
“Some.”
“Some good? Or some bad?”
“I’m okay.”
“Guess we’ll see.” She set a head of cabbage on a cutting board with a big knife. “Here, make yourself useful. Cut this up. You can make the coleslaw.”
She had picked up the knife and began chopping away, scooping up the shredded cabbage to toss in a stainless bowl. The three women began to chat and soon were including her in the conversation. They were down-to-earth women, all committed to the club. They gave her what amounted to an interview, putting her through the wringer with question after question, wanting to know who or what she was to Blood and why she was there.
Her answers didn’t seem to appease them, or at least didn’t seem to sound plausible to them. Blood, in need of help? Their Blood? Not possible.
They were sad to hear about her sister, but were equally as curious at the fact that Blood had promised to get her back for Cat.
Roxy frowned, while Mama Ray openly laughed.
“Our Blood? Right. Sure he is, honey,” Sissy insisted.
“What’s keeping you here?” Mama Ray asked, her hand on her hip. “I was you, I’d hightail it out of here and go find my sister.”
“He told me he doesn’t say shit he doesn’t mean. That sound like ‘your’ Blood to you?” Cat gave it back with a snap in her voice.
That had Mama Ray lifting her chin, her eyes narrowing as she studied Cat. Then without another word on the subject, she snapped, “Food’s ready.”
Cat watched her pick up a large pan of pulled pork and storm off into the other room.
Roxy picked up the bowl of coleslaw, held it out to Cat, and then picked up a large pan of baked beans. “Her bark is worse than her bite, and she’s protective of the guys. Don’t worry. If Blood wants you around, she won’t make trouble for you.” She winked. “Come on, sweetheart.”
Chapter Ten
Cat watched Blood as they all sat to eat. He was a man back once again in his natural habitat, back within the clubhouse he obviously felt at home in. Back again with the men of this MC he’d pledged his loyalty to, brothers he loved and trusted. It was as if she was seeing him clearly for the first time, and she studied him closely. The way he joked with them, the way he felt at home and totally relaxed in their company…It was eye opening. Yes, he was like the other MCs she’d been exposed to, and at the same time, he was nothing like them. She also observed how respected he was within his club. He held some rank or importance, it seemed.
He caught her eyes on him across the table as he reclined back in his chair, pushing his empty plate away, and he winked.
The other men were still going back for second helpings.
“I went and saw Carlos Santana Saturday night. He was amazing,” one of them said between bites.
Another slapped a spoonful of coleslaw on his plate. “If I cared what you did on the weekend, Bam-Bam, I’d put a gun in my mouth.”
“That so, Easy? Well, what’s stopping you?”
“And if I gotta hear you drone on about another 90’s hair band, Easy, I’m gonna eat a bullet,” Blood retorted.
“Who is Carlos Santana?” the twenty-something Prospect asked and everyone at the table went silent.
Bam-Bam turned on him. “Oh, now you’re just trying to piss me off.”
Sandman scrapped his plate clean. “Can we get this meeting going? I’ve got to get out of here soon.”
“Oh, like you’ve got plans.” Blood laughed at him.
“Okay, enough, boys. Sandman’s right,” Mooch said.
“That’d be a first,” Easy teased him.
Sandman reached over and, with a flick of his fingers, dumped the man’s plate upside-down onto his lap.
Easy loo
ked down. “You fucker.”
“Meeting’s in twenty minutes. Got something to take care of first,” Undertaker said, standing. He glanced at Blood and jerked his head toward the door. Blood nodded and turned to Cat. “Got something to do. Stay here with the girls.”
He rose from the bench, as did the rest of them.
Cat’s hand closed around his forearm, stopping him. His eyes dropped to her hand, then lifted to her eyes. She knew where he was going and the reason. They stared at each other, a thousand questions in her look. None he would answer, and she understood that, too, but she had to try. “She’s my sister. Let me talk to him. Please.”
“She is your sister. But what happens here in this clubhouse, babe, that’s club business.”
“Blood—”
“I won’t be long.” With that he pulled her hand from his arm, stepped over the bench, and strode out of the room along with the rest of the men.
***
Blood followed Undertaker into the room. There was only one piece of furniture—a chair—and Dax was cuffed to it. The other men shuffled in. Sandman stood on one side with his arms folded, Mooch stood on the other side. Bam-Bam, Mud, and Easy stood around the room.
Undertaker nodded to Blood to take the lead on this interrogation. It wasn’t anything new to him. He was the club’s Enforcer and, therefore, handled a lot of beatings.
He stepped forward.
Dax’s eyes lifted to him, and Blood could see he was already shaking in his boots. He had a black eye from earlier.
Blood slammed his fist into the side of Dax’s face, sending his head spinning to the side. He had no problem doing it—not when he knew this slime ball had been responsible for leading the Death Heads straight to Cat’s door and for whatever horror her sister, Holly, was currently enduring.
Blood had seen a picture of the girl at Cat’s apartment—a small framed picture of the two of them together. He’d slid it in his pocket while Cat was stuffing some clothes in a bag. It was obvious the two were sisters. The girl was young and sweet and innocent looking. He doubted they’d killed her; not a pretty girl like her. They’d find a use for her. Sell her. Trade her out for a favor. Put her on the streets. But the thing Blood didn’t understand was why they’d taken her before they even knew he and Cat had escaped.
