“Doc,” he began but I put my hands to his shoulders and pushed him down.
“Lie down now or pass out later. The choice is yours.”
His shoulders slumped but he nodded, wisely deciding arguing wasn’t the best choice. “Yeah, okay.”
Thankfully, after examining Hollywood I saw his injuries weren’t as bad as I’d feared. He was still a bit pale and clammy, but nothing that fluids wouldn’t fix. I turned to Laura. “He’s stopped bleeding, so it’s not torn an artery. Can you sort out an IV for him while I triage the next patient?”
“Sure thing, Doc,” she answered.
“Has anyone called 911?” I asked.
I was met with a stern gaze, as one of the club members—Hawk, I think—muttered, “We don’t know what shit you’ve dragged here. We don’t need the clubhouse crawling with cops. No one’s dying, just patch ‘em up as good as you can, and if anyone needs further treatment we’ll take ‘em to the ER.”
I looked towards Laura for backup. Surely, she’d agree with me? But she just shrugged, “You’ll have to excuse my man, he might have the tactfulness of a feral monkey, but he’s right. It’s mostly minor cuts and grazes, we don’t need to involve anyone else.”
I wanted to argue but remembered I was a guest here and I’d brought this to them. So instead, I did what I was trained to do and turned to the next patient, a biker with wavy black hair and pale blue eyes with what looked like shrapnel wounds on his face.
“I’m Slate,” he offered with a smile that didn’t fit the chaos around us. “One of my computer screens exploded.”
I nodded. “Okay.” It was easy but time consuming to pull the glass from his face and hands and clean the area. “You’re going to need some antibiotics to avoid infection.”
“On it,” Laura said, gently pushing me to the next patient.
I moved on without thinking about it, taking care of another biker who’d been hit by a piece of shrapnel in the chest. It was just a minor wound so after flushing out the debris, I dressed it. Next was one of the club girls who’d taken a piece of metal across the back of her knee. I took one look at the wound and said, “You need to go to the ER.”
The woman looked horrified. “Oh my god! Am I gonna lose my leg?”
I shook my head. “It’s not that. Just you might have damaged the ligament. Better to get a specialist to check it out. I’ll clean the wound out and patch you up in the meantime.”
I heard sounds, the pounding of biker boots, deep voices barking orders and anguished cries, but I focused on the woman on the table. “What happened?”
“I was bringing the guys a few beers at the shop when a loud bang sounded. Next thing I know I can’t move my left leg.”
I dressed her wound. “The good news is that you’re going to live.”
She gave a weak smile. “What’s the bad news?”
“The bad news is you’re probably not going to be wearing those heels for some time.” My eyes went to the five-inch platforms she’d been wearing.
I pulled off my gloves and threw them in the trash. My eyes surveyed the chaos. Was this normal MC drama or was this the carnage I’d brought to their door? If this was normal, would TJ really be safe here? The questions fired through my mind, but I focused on what needed to be done. Luckily, other than a handful of non life threatening injuries it was more minor scrapes and cuts.
It wasn’t the OR, but it was helping and that was the one bright spot in an otherwise dark three years.
With Hollywood stitched up and healing in a makeshift recovery room, I was exhausted, drenched in sweat, and totally in my element. I still had no clue what had happened, but I looked up and three sets of wary eyes stared me down. I knew the names from introductions, Raven, Ellie, and Winter. Of course they didn’t trust me. They didn’t know me, and I’dbrought danger to those they loved.Just move on.I turned away, satisfied with a job well done and headed for the small room where TJ and I had stayed last night.
***
By the time I got to the room, my muscles ached and trembled, and blood streaked my face, my arms, and even my throat. A hot shower was my first order of business but instead of being refreshing and replenishing, it was filled with thoughts of the past I couldn’t seem to escape. Running from the Russian mob was one of the reasons I left, but not the only one. I wasn’t lying to Falcon when I told him about my ex-fiancé. Except James didn’t see it that way—to him we’d never separated. I thought about James with his jealous rage and suffocating control, wanting to know where I was at all times. To my foolish attempts to fix him with love. To Falcon and those two amazing, reckless, and perfect weeks that had ruined me for any other man. Inevitably my thoughts went to the day the stick showed the word ‘pregnant’ and changed my life forever.
I didn’t regret having TJ, I couldn’t. But keeping him with me while I ran for my life was no longer possible. The nights without sleep, the days of terror, constantly waiting for the moment my time was up. Some nights I wondered if keeping him was the selfish choice. Had I done it because it was the right thing to do, because it was what I wanted, or had I done it to stave off loneliness? Or was it more basic than that? Had I done it because I wanted a small piece of Falcon with me as my world fell apart?
It didn’t matter now. I’d made the choice and walked the path, and for now I was here in Steel City. I would help where I could, like today, and pull my weight until the DNA test revealed what I knew it would.
Then I’d go. I’d walk away with the knowledge that it was the right thing to do no matter how much it broke my heart.
Chapter Five
Falcon
