I didn’t focus on their interaction, but on the task at hand. More than once, I had to ask Rev for guidance on cleaning, sewing up, and bandaging his wound. He’d have a gnarly scar, and it cut through one of his tattoos. But he was alive. He survived.
We all did.
I wasn’t sure how much Becca remembered, so I gave her space and went to Diesel, waking him up, and ordering him onto the only vacant bed.
As he flipped me off, he reached for Becca’s hand, squeezing it before he lifted his feet and lay down. There wasn’t much to do except to clean and dress his laceration. He needed a few stitches, but waved me off, insisting it could be taken care of later.
There wouldn’t be a later. He’d probably staple it shut or sew it himself, the arrogant bastard. I had to admit he was tough as they came. Same with Rev. Not once did either of them moan, complain, or betray the pain I knew they were in.
Finally collapsing in the chair, I kicked out my feet, closed my eyes, and slept.
Chapter 8 Becca
The howling wind woke me. I could hear it outside, hungry and angry, whipping at anyone who dared to venture into its domain. I shivered as I pulled the blanket tighter around me, fully returning to the present. My dreams faded. All that remained was the reality that I was with three injured bikers who all braved the snowstorm and danger to find and rescue me.
I never even got the chance to call or text them. Somehow, they came after me despite the argument we had before I left my house. My head was a little foggy, so I remembered being pissed at them, but I couldn’t remember exactly what upset me. Wait. Secrets. Lies. Betrayal.
Was it Hades?
Fuck. My head hurts.
“Hey.” Diesel gently pushed the hair out of my face. “You’re okay. Safe. Protected. We’re all here for you, princess.”
“It hurts to think,” I blurted, realizing how idiotic that sounded right after I said it.
“Pretty sure you hit your head or got whiplash during the crash. Don’t push it. Relax,” he urged.
“After what happened?”
“That’s a discussion for later, once everyone is awake and no longer bleeding.”
It wasn’t a joke.
Sighing, I sat up. Diesel helped me, placing his hand on my back to steady me as I swayed. “Oh, wow. This sucks.”
“Yeah. You got a head injury. No moving around for you.” He gently pressed me back against the pillows.
I didn’t remember being moved. I wasn’t in the little clinic like before. This was a bed in a room decorated with blues,greens, and dark wood. I never saw it before today. “Where am I? Who moved me?”
“Void insisted. He said it was the best bed in the house.”
“That’s because he probably feels guilty,” I deadpanned.
Diesel snorted. “Yeah. I’m with you on that.”
“How are you?” I gestured to the bandage on his arm. “How bad is it?”
“Eh, I’ve had a lot worse. This is nothing.”
“Diesel.” I didn’t want lies or half-truths—just honesty.
He seemed to pick that up as I stared at him. “Okay, princess. I got you. This really isn’t much. A bullet grazed my arm. Doesn’t even need stitches.”
I was sure that was an understatement.
“And Rev? Void?”
“Rev took a hit to his right shoulder. Void dug out the bullet, and now he’s patched up. Rev lost a lot of blood, but he’ll be fine. Void must have veins of steel. He got grazed on his neck, saved all of us with his quick thinking, and provided the safe house. Nobody knows about it but him. Not even Hades.”
