Pink seemed happy with the conclusion I’d come to, because she smiled wide before hooking an arm in mine and rounding another corner. “His ass had no intentions, Mia. It’s why we’re here—to rattle his cage a little. See if we can get the real Jameson to come out.”
The real Jameson. Was that the one who took Valerie in the study, or the one who put his hand on my throat to get me to listen with bullets flying outside?
“Has Jameson told you what he does for a living?” Olive inquired, her eyes dancing as we made our way down some stairs and came to a stop in front of double doors.
“He said he was a doctor.”
Pink chuckled, and Franny bounced on her toes. “He is. He helps people.”
Olive swiped her watch over a small pad to the left of the entry.
The doors unlocked.
That’s when I heard a man scream.
Jameson
“FUCKINGCHRIST, KNIGHT. THATburns.” Jacques deserved more pain than me scrubbing his road rash clean.
“Should have gone to a hospital, then.”
“Can’t you give me some drugs? You’re killing me,” he practically cried.
“So you can go back to rehab?” He knew better, and his eyes danced with mischief I didn’t have time for. “I should actually shoot you up with something so you have to endure the withdrawals again.”
“That’s fucked up.” His dark brows slammed down before he started laughing. “I like it. That’s the Jameson we’re used to.”
I poured disinfectant in his wound. Mostly because I wanted to hear his scream. “Franny’s here today. A hospital would be better suited for your—”
“Jesus, you fucker.” He shoved my hand away that held the liquid. “What do you want me to tell them? Xavier stabbed me after we raced down the highway?”
“I want you to consider the repercussions of your choices.”
“You sound like your father.”
“My father’s in the ground, Jacques, and maybe I sound likeyourdad, but definitely not mine. Mine never considered therepercussions of his actions either. I agonize over every single one.” Then I poured more disinfectant on the wound for good measure. Another scream. I should have recorded this to hold over his head.
“You’re an asshole. You know that? You were the least careful of all of us before Franny. And now you’re even more twisted. I heard what you did to Paolo’s men. You got one here now, don’t you?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I wasn’t answering any of his questions because I didn’t have to. They all answered to me. Not the other way around. “Whatever it is you or the other Heathens think I did, I can do much worse if you keep stumbling in here, bleeding out every week.” It was a warning to him and his motorcycle club as I started to close the wound with a sutured needle. It would only take seven stitches, but I intended to make each one hurt.
He winced at the pressure. “What else you got this room for if not to help us?”
The last-minute addition three years ago had served our community well, actually. I’d perfected surgeries, treated gun wounds, saved lives, made allies.
And made enemies.
“Not to deal with you and Xavier’s spats. You’re two stupid cats from the same litter clawing at each other. I don’t have time for it.”
“Cats?” He looked affronted as he jumped off the metal operating table, holding his side that was now bandaged. Immediately, two of my guys started cleaning the area. “I’m a pit bull of a fighter.”
“You’re choosing to argue about that?”
“I’m not a damn cat.”
I walked to the sink to clean up. “Get out of my house, Jacques. My daughter is home, and I have a new nanny who’s skittish. I don’t have time for this.”
“If you want the Heathens to run down any of the guys left who came to her school …” He clapped me on the shoulder, his voice sincere.
