“Is it much farther?”I ask after a few minutes.Despite the current heat wave and my denim jacket, the morning is cool and I’m shivering.A degree of shock is shaking my nerves.
“Two minutes, almost there.”
His tone is softer and I wonder if he can feel me trembling against him.
Our little motorcade slows and we take a right onto a dirt track.It is lined with tall pine trees and Reaper dodges potholes so deep I’d likely have bounced off the Harley had he hit them.
Eventually, in the distance, a log cabin comes into view.The morning sun gives it a golden glow and slices off the windows.It has two floors and a pretty front porch with stone steps.The land around it is unkempt.No flowers, just tall grass, a pile of logs, and a decrepit outbuilding with a sheet of metal for a roof.
The four-by-four pulls up and kills its engine.The three bikes do the same and I get off Reaper’s, relieved to change position.But as soon as I stand, I realize my knees are weak.The fright of the shoot-out is still having an effect on me.
“Steady there.”Reaper is at my side with his hand around my waist.“You okay?”
“Yes, I’m just not used to being shot at before breakfast.”
The right side of his mouth curls into a half smile.“You’ve lived to tell the tale.”
“Do you think those guys were at the hospital about to get her and you arrived a few minutes ahead of them?”I ask.
Before Reaper can answer, a tall biker with flecks of gray in his hair appears at my side.“I’d say so, she was a gnat’s fart away from being silenced.You gave us good intel.”He sets his dark eyes on me.“We appreciate it.”
“The Hyenas are gonna be mad as shit now we’ve taken out two of their bros.”The guy with the bullet wound in his arm snarls and then spits on the ground.“We should be prepared for that.”
“They won’t find us at this place.”Mr Gray In His Hair looks at Reaper.“You stay here with the doc, she’s your problem, and Tank and Ghost can watch the perimeter.”
“Excuse me.”I frown and place my hands on my hips.“I am not a problem, Mr....Mr...”
He raises his eyebrows at me.“Jock, president of the Denver Chapter of the Sons of Sin.”
“Well, President Jock, Sons of Sin, I’ll have you know that I should still be on shift and there’ll be questions for me to answer when I go back.And if it wasn’t for me, that girl would be dead, and your club buddy here,” I jerk my thumb at Reaper, “would have bled out the other night too and...”I pause and sigh as if they are all exasperating.“Now, out of the goodness of my heart.I’ll stitch up this Tank Man and make sure he doesn’t get an infection in the wound.”
“His name is just Tank.”Jock’s eyebrows are right up in his forehead.He looks at Reaper.“She always like this?”
“I reckon so.”Reaper shrugs and slips his hand around my waist again.“Come on, you’ve got work to do.”
He steers me toward the cabin.It has a sign on the wall that reads, BISON VIEW.
The door is open and as I step in, I hear deep voices upstairs and then a female voice.
“I should check on her.”I glance at Tank.“Keep pressure on that and find a first aid kit, preferably one with some sutures in it.I’ll get to it soon.”
“Yes, ma’am.”He nods and goes into a kitchen area.
The place is sparsely furnished with one long sofa, an old android TV, a table and two chairs, and a bookcase full of dusty novels and boardgames.
I climb the stairs and when I reach the top I turn left.This room is bursting bright with the morning sun and has a large bed in the center.Consuela is sitting on it.
Her face lights up when she sees me.“Doctor Mesa.”
I smile and go to her.The very fact she is alive is nothing short of a miracle, first the massive overdose and now an attempt on her life.
“How are you feeling?”I glance at the sparse medical equipment in the room.The IV looks useful.
“Exhausted but glad to be out of the hospital.”She shudders.“I think they were there, in the corridor, waiting to get me.”
I take her hand.“Thank goodness they didn’t.”
“Did you...”She looks up at the two bikers standing with their hands on their hips at the end of the bed.AK47 is there again.He must have been in the car with her.“Did you organize this, Doctor Mesa?”
