Lucky bastards must have a guardian angel.
“How’s your shoulder?” Zeus asks, nodding at the bleeding wound.
“It’s just a flesh wound,” I respond, sliding my gun into my holster. “I’ll have the doc take a look at it later.”
I’m wearing a bulletproof vest to protect my vital organs—all the brothers are—but a well-placed shot can still take me out.
“You did good,” Zeus remarks, slapping me on the back.
I dip my chin, acknowledging the rare compliment.
“Found this on Bear’s body,” Tank says, holding up a bulging envelope.
“Payment for the merch,” Jigsaw states, taking the envelope from him. “I’ll give it to Butch.”
“All right, people, move like you got a purpose,” Zeus orders. “Dump the bikes and disappear the bodies.” He looks at Draco. “In the morning, gather some prospects to put the warehouse to rights, but the cleaner needs to come tonight.”
He nods and pulls his cell phone from his cut pocket.
It’s going to be a long fucking night.
“Twelve stitches,” Naomi announces, securing the bandage around my shoulder. “You’re fortunate your injury isn’t more serious.”
“Thanks, Doc,” I mumble, rotating my shoulder.
The pain is minimal. I’ll be back in tip-top shape within the week.
“You’re welcome,” she replies with a bright smile. “Keep the stitches dry for the first twenty-four hours. After that, you’ll need to wash, rebandage, and apply petroleum twice a day. I’ll pull them out in ten days.”
I nod, taking in her instructions.
“Antibiotics to prevent infection.” A pill bottle is pressed into my palm. “Take one three times a day for a week.”
“Got it.” I push the bottle into my inner cut pocket.
Zeus slides into the chair to my right and passes me an ice-coldbeer. “Finally got your badge of honor, boy,” he praises, a grin on his face. “And you took it like a soldier.”
“I hardly call getting shot a badge of honor,” Naomi scoffs, ramming her supplies back inside her medical bag. “He could’ve been killed.”
“Shut your mouth, woman.” He winks at me, mirth in his gaze. “I’m talking to my son.”
Naomi is an emergency room doctor and a recovering gambling addict. She got in way over her head. I don’t know the particulars, but rumor has it that she’s millions in debt.
Zeus offered her a side gig patching up our wounded. He loves getting under her skin. They have a lust-hate relationship, though the hate is on her part. Zeus just wants in her pants. I see why he has a hard-on for her. Curvy waistline, double D’s, and a plump ass with ham hock thighs—she’s thick, thick.
Naomi springs to her feet, her hands balled into tight fists at her side. “I’m not one of your lackeys.”
“But you’re on my payroll,” he quips, his sensual gaze slowly roaming over her. “And insubordination has consequences.”
“Then fire me.”
“I’d rather fuck you.”
Naomi’s fair skin turns bright red, and Zeus smirks. The tension between them crackles—lust and fury wrapped in barbed wire.
“Fuck you, Zeus.” She snatches her medical bag off the table and stomps toward the door.
“Naomi!” His booming voice cracks through the air like a whip, halting her instantly. “Don’t mistake my kindness for weakness. My patience is wearing thin.”
