by Aiden Bates
“Mav! Mav, get out here!”
Blade and the redheaded enforcer half-dragged, half-carried a pallid, black-haired man between them. The man had his hand pressed to his stomach ineffectually as blood stained his hand, clothes, and dripped to the floor as they moved. Gunnar and Coop followed close behind.
“Jesus!” Maverick jogged over. “What the fuck happened? Tex, lay him down! Look, I only finished half of that EMT course, you need to call the fuckin’ hospital!”
Tex lowered the injured man to the floor. The man gripped his wound and curled slightly onto his side, pulling his knees up to his chest as best as he could.
“Heath and I were cruising today and saw a few outsiders, Viper’s Nest guys, hanging around the edge of town,” Tex said hastily. “I stopped to question them about the drugs, see if they knew anything about it, or heard anything similar in their territory. They denied it and started running their mouths so I told them to leave the territory. Shoulda been a minor tussle. Those guys fight fuckin’ dirty.”
“Christ,” Blade said. “Mav, fix him!”
Shit. The Nest was here? But I didn’t have time to worry about that now; a teenager was bleeding out in front of me. Muscle memory took over—the years of schooling and the rapid pace of my work in the emergency room jolted me into action. I’d dealt with trauma like this before. Not on a dirty floor of a repurposed warehouse, but it was a simple laceration. I’d seen hundreds. And no kid was going to die from a gash while I stood around sulking.
"Move!" I said as I elbowed my way through the small crowd toward Heath. Blade, Tex, and Maverick all snapped their heads around at the sound of my voice, but they did as they were told, scooting backward from Heath’s body. I knelt next to Heath. “Is there a first aid kit here? Blade, go look for one. Maverick, bring me a couple towels—clean towels, please.”
Blade opened his mouth like he was about to say something, but then changed his mind, nodded, and jogged off.
I leaned over the young man. He was pale and clammy, but conscious, wide-eyed, his breath coming fast and shallow. “I’m Logan,” I said gently. “I’m going to help you, okay? What’s your name?”
He nodded frantically. “Heath.”
So he was breathing on his own. That was one crisis averted. The wound on his stomach spanned nearly the width of his abdomen and was deep enough to strike muscle, but there was no organ damage. Maverick reappeared with clean towels, and Blade with a fully stocked first aid kit.
“How much blood has he lost?” I asked.
“I don’t know,” Tex said, sounding slightly panicked. “A lot. I had to call Blade to bring one of the club cars.”
Fucking club guys always trying to solve shit on their own instead of going to the hospital. I understood the aversion, but if they had gotten here just a few minutes later, Heath would be in shock. Hypovolemic shock followed most likely by death. Once the blood was gone, I couldn’t put it back in. Only the hospital could do that. And if I wasn’t here…
I held the towels to the wound for a long few minutes, applying hard pressure to stop the bleeding.
“Talk to him,” I instructed Blade. “He’s in pain. And it’s going to get worse.”
With one hand on Heath’s cheek, Blade turned Heath’s eyes away from my work and spoke to him in a low, soft voice, saying things I couldn’t quite hear. Heath’s rapid breathing slowed. He was calming down.
My heart twisted with sudden affection. I’d never known a president to be so tender with one of his guys—like he really cared about him. Dad would sooner watch a guy bleed out on the floor than touch him like that, or talk to him lovingly. There was no comfort in the Viper’s Nest.
“Okay, Maverick,” I said. “Bleeding’s slowed. What’s in the kit? I need gloves, peroxide, a suture kit if you’ve got one, iodine, gauze, tape.” As I rattled my needs off, Maverick fished them out of the first aid bag.
I was impressed, but not surprised. So I snapped on my gloves and got to work.
There was a lot of blood. I cleaned and sterilized the wound as quickly as possible, then placed a series of neat, tight stitches. Maverick stayed at my side acting as another pair of hands when needed. Blade stayed near Heath’s head, talking to him, keeping him conscious and distracted from the pain as best he could.
“There.” I flattened the last piece of tape gently over the wound. “That should be okay. You should really get it checked at an urgent care, though. Especially when the stitches are ready to come out. And you better see a doctor if there’s any swelling or redness. Got it?” None of them wanted to get law enforcement involved—this was between Hell’s Ankhor and the Viper’s Nest. That much I could piece together. I’d done everything I could for the kid—all I could do was hope the Hell’s Ankhor members didn’t let their stupid pride get in the way of his recovery.
I looked to Blade for confirmation. He nodded. From the concerned twist of his mouth, I trusted he wouldn’t let a simple infection take Heath down.
Heath tipped his head back onto the concrete, heaving breaths of relief. Then he moved to get up.
“Not yet,” I said, pushing him back down by the shoulder. “Rest for a minute.”
“Jesus fucking Christ.” Blade suddenly dropped back onto the concrete, landing flat on his ass. He grabbed one of the clean towels and scrubbed his sweat-drenched face, then ran the rough fabric along his neck under the collar of his t-shirt. He shook his head incredulously at me. “Where’d you learn to do that?”
“Maverick, can you get a trash bag for all this?” I wiped my gloved hands on an already-bloodied towel then met Blade’s eyes. “I’m a nurse. And I’ve had some experience working… in the field, so to speak.”
“Military?”
“Something like that.”
Heath groaned, clinging to the wound.
“Don’t pick at it,” I said. “You’ll be okay.”
“Thanks to you,” Heath said through gritted teeth. “I owe you.”
“No, you don’t,” I said.
Maverick returned with the bag. I stuffed the gory towels inside and snapped my gloves off. “You should mop the floor,” I said. “Sooner rather than later.”
“What? You don’t think the bloodstains create a welcoming atmosphere?”
The silence hung heavy in the air like an odor. Then, with his eyes closed, Heath started laughing. Tex’s low chuckle followed, then Blade, his laugh loud and boisterous. Maverick, still grumbling, marched off to toss the trash.
I slipped into the shop’s tiny bathroom then locked the door behind me. Under the buzzing fluorescent light, I took a deep, slow breath, and braced my hands on the edge of the sink while the water heated up. Some habits, once ingrained, were impossible to break. Despite the shallow sink and the low faucet, I scrubbed my hands clean, working between my fingers and under my nails.
I sat on the closed toilet and swiped my hand over my forehead. The smell of blood and the pulsing sensation of Heath’s wound under my gloved hands dragged my thoughts back to the day I’d been asked to leave my dream job.
I remember the patient I had been with when it happened: a teenage kid, trying really hard not to be afraid of the rabies shot I had been preparing. I had loved being an emergency room nurse—the work had been hard, but exciting, and something new had come through the bay doors every day. Working with patients like this had been rewarding, too. I had thrived on being the beacon of calm during a terrifying experience. The dog bite on the kid’s leg hadn’t been deep, but the shot was a necessary precaution. I remember I had been asking him about his school clubs, getting him to focus on something other than the shot, as I’d kept one hand gently on his pulse and felt it slow the more he spoke.
“Paddy!” My father’s slurred voice had echoed through the waiting room. “Get out here, son!”
Nurses’ voices, calming and muffled. My father’s roar.
“Excuse me. I’ll be right back,” I’d said to the boy, and then slipped out of the ER bay.
&n
bsp; “There you are, boy!”
In the center of the room, my father had stood, flushed and sweating, holding a barely conscious Viper upright. Blood gushed from the man’s leg, staining his jeans and dripping onto the tile floor. The trail led to the doors where they’d staggered in. A few other Vipers had lagged behind, and their dark glares had kept the other patients well away.
“Sir,” the charge nurse had said. “I’m going to need you to take it easy, all right? We’ll take care of your friend there, but you’ve got to let us.”
“Fuck off.” My father had spat at Monica’s feet, but she’d been unfazed. Nurses like her, tough and experienced, had seen it all. “Where’s my fucking kid?”
“Security,” Monica had said into her radio. “To the bay, please.”
“You don’t need any fucking security!”
I had snapped a fresh pair of gloves on. “Just let her take him, Dad.”
“There you are, Paddy.” He had shoved the wounded Viper at me. The Viper had staggered and fallen into me, his weight nearly knocking me off my feet. Monica had run to my side and taken half his weight. Another nurse had then approached with a stretcher.
“Don’t anyone else fucking touch him,” Crave had said. “I don’t trust you hacks. You touch him, I’ll fucking gut you myself.”
“Jesus, Dad, it’s a hospital.” I had pushed a fresh bandage onto the wound and leaned all my weight onto it.
Crave had charged forward then and struck me dead in the face. I remember falling backward and my head cracking against the floor. After that, darkness.
I’d regained consciousness in a hospital bed. Monica had been sitting beside me. She had held my hand and smoothed her fingers over my knuckles. She’d been a good boss.
“I’m fired, aren’t I?” I had murmured.
I’d said it as a joke. I thought surely they wouldn’t hold my crazy father against me. I’d get reprimanded, a restraining order filed, and have to deal with all the obnoxious paperwork that ER drama entails.
“I don’t know, honey,” she’d answered sadly. “But it might be best to start considering other options.”
But I didn’t want to dwell on that. In the bathroom at Ankhor Works, I stood up and splashed cold water on my face. My emotions swirled heavy and confusing inside me: pride at a trauma response gone well, despair at the memory of my old job, and the cold terror of the knowledge that the Vipers had reached Elkin Lake.
If Crave wanted to find me, he would. He’d destroy any part of my life I built for myself. He’d wear me down, break me, keep me hurting and trapped so he could use my skills for his benefit. No matter the cost. They wouldn’t be looking for me—not yet. Unless Crave didn’t believe I’d actually go through with his plan. Would he waste resources on tracking me? Or were guys just sniffing around the border to see what the Ankhor response would be?
I dried my face hastily and stepped out of the bathroom.
“You all right, Logan?” Blade asked.
“Yeah,” I said. I walked back over and knelt by Heath. “Just had to clean up a little. Standard procedure.”
“Logan?” Blade pressed his lips together. “I’m really fuckin’ glad you were here. Thank you.”
I searched his face and found nothing but open honesty. Neither Dad nor any of the Vipers had ever thanked me when I’d helped them. My breath caught. It was an unfamiliar sensation, being appreciated. But it wasn’t just appreciation. There was something more there, burning in his dark eyes, but I didn’t know what it was.
Heat rose in my cheeks. I checked over Heath’s bandage once more for the sheer distraction of it.
“Let’s get him back to the clubhouse,” Blade said. “Into a real bed. If he’s okay to move.”
Blade looked to me for confirmation. Having all the members focus on me on me kept me flushed pinked with the attention—but at the same time, I was a damn good nurse. And it really was nice to have my skills be appreciated openly by someone other than the nurses I used to work with. Usually it was just Viper guys bleeding out in my living room and telling me to work faster.
Our eyes met. Blade nodded; a brief tip of his chin down, a private moment of gratitude and respect just for me.
Ballast wasn’t open for the evening yet, so the barroom was empty except for Blade standing close to me at the landing of the stairs. “The room’s yours as long as you’re in town.”
“Come on. That’s not necessary.” I rubbed my hand across the back of my neck. Now that the adrenaline had worn off, the anxiety came creeping back in. What if word got out to the Vipers that there was a nurse working with Hell’s Ankhor? The Vipers weren’t just sniffing around—they were actively inciting violence. If they figured out I was working with Hell’s Ankhor, and not funneling the information back to the Nest, I was fucked.
“It is,” Blade said. “It definitely is. You saved Heath’s life. He’s just a kid—he’s not even a patched member yet. He’s a prospect. Can’t even legally drink.”
“You don’t see a problem with that?” I crossed my arms over my chest, putting a small amount of space between us. I sure took issue with it. If Heath was that young, he was way too young to be getting roped into the violent world of motorcycle clubs.
“Of course I see a problem with it!” Blade’s sudden outburst echoed in the empty barroom.
I jerked away instinctively, putting more distance between us as I wrapped my arms tighter around myself. When a club guy raised his voice like that, I was usually the one in the line of fire for the violence that followed.
Blade paled slightly. His shoulders slumped, and he didn’t come any closer. “Sorry,” he said, and took a slow, deep breath. “Believe me, it wouldn’t be my first choice for him, but Heath doesn’t have anywhere else to go. He doesn’t have any family—except us. He reminds me of myself at that age. Thinks he’s invincible. Ready to throw himself into the fire for his brothers. You think this is how I want to run this club? Looking over my shoulder, watching for psycho guys who are trying to pick off my prospects because they’re jealous of my territory? That’s not what this is supposed to be about.”
“How do you want to run it, then?” I relaxed a bit as he calmed—he wasn’t pissed at me. He was pissed at the Vipers. We had that in common, at least.
Blade had wrestled his anger down into a quiet strength that practically radiated off him. It was almost intoxicating to be near. “Like an anchor,” he said. “My club is the safe harbor for misfits. The place for people who don’t fit in, who don’t belong.”
I couldn’t suppress my smile when I heard that, so I directed it at my feet. “You’re not the first person around here to say something like that.”
“Because we all believe it,” Blade said.
It was clear Blade thought—like Priest did—that the club could be my anchor, too. He was probably even more interested in having me around, now that he knew I could be of use. But what if things got worse? What if the Vipers started investigating closer to the center of town, and saw me? That’d make Blade change his tune.
“I don’t know,” I said. “I can find a motel on the highway.”
“We all owe you for saving Heath’s life,” Blade said. “Are you always this reluctant to accept repayment?”
I met his eyes hesitantly. “Pretty much, yeah.”
Blade stepped closer again, carefully telegraphing his movements. Another swell of affection rose in me—it was the same tender care he’d given to Heath. He realized his outburst had triggered an instinctive fear in me, and now he was moving slowly in order to give me time to move away if I so chose.
Most people didn’t even notice when I was tense. Blade didn’t know me at all. How was he already able to read me so well? Why was he being so attentive? And why didn’t I want him to stop?
“Do it as a gift to me, then,” Blade said.
“What?”
Blade gently touched my hand where I was gripping my own upper arm and tugged until I unfolded my arms. “Stay he
re for me. I’d feel like shit if I knew you were paying for some crappy motel when we have perfectly good rooms here.”
His touch lingered on the back of my hand for a long moment. He was close again, like he was last night, here in Ballast. With the wall of the stair landing at my back, it’d be easy for Blade to step forward and crowd me against it—easy for me to let go for a moment.
That wouldn’t happen. I couldn’t let my guard down.
But.
There was no real reason for me to stay in a motel. And honestly, if the Vipers were prowling around, I’d rather be here than alone on the edge of town. Maybe this could work. If I could balance it right—keeping my distance from Blade and the others, but close enough to Hell’s Ankhor to stay away from the Vipers—I could keep my head down and bide my time until the Sundance was fixed. Then, I could make my bid for freedom with no strings attached and a few bucks still in my pocket.
“Okay,” I said.
“Huh?” Blade asked. His face lit up slowly, like he wasn’t quite ready to believe me. “That’s a yes?”
“Yeah,” I said, and I bit back another smile. “Someone’s got to keep an eye on Heath’s stitches. I don’t believe that you’ll take him to urgent care.”
“Hey!” Blade said. “I would if it got really bad. Like, wriggling with maggots bad.”
I laughed and shook my head. “Gross. Speaking of, I need a shower.” I started to climb the stairs, but Blade’s voice stopped me.
“Will I see you tonight?”
“I’m staying above the bar, apparently,” I said. “Where else would I go?”
10
Blade
Time slid by easily in Elkin Lake, especially during the long, late summer days. The sky was cloudless and clear and the mountain air was already starting to have an edge of fall crispness during the early mornings. The town wasn’t quite a tourist trap but it wasn’t dead either—we had bikers pass through on long touring rides and citizens stopping for a night or two to camp at the lake. I spent my days at the clubhouse and Ballast, double-checking the books, working with Raven on our new IT security setup, fleshing out recruitment plans with Priest, and planning shop renovations with Maverick.
