Ash (Hounds of Hellfire MC #5)

Chapter 11

11

NORA

O ne minute, Mark had been teasing me about finally having my first boyfriend, and the next, a truck sideswiped his side of the ambulance. He’d thrown the rig into park and jumped out so fast, I hadn’t understood what was happening until it was too late.

A van skidded to a stop only a few feet next to me, and it took me a moment to realize the driver was wearing a ski mask. In June. When it was eighty-three degrees outside and humid. I turned to call Mark’s name, but he was yelling at the guy who hit us and didn’t hear me.

By the time I undid my seat belt, three other guys had piled out of the van. They were all wearing ski masks, too.

“Holy guacamole, this cannot be good,” I muttered.

I was quickly proven right when one of them yanked my door open and pointed a gun at my head. “Get out.”

“Okay.” I slowly climbed out of the rig, careful not to make any sudden movements. Taking care of Ink’s bullet wound the other day didn’t mean that I wanted to end up with one of my own. Ever.

“You’re coming with us,” he growled as soon as my feet hit the ground.

“I’m what?” I squeaked.

He wrapped his hand around my wrist and started to tug me toward the van. Even as I struggled against his hold, he turned to one of the other guys and ordered, “Grab whatever shit you think she’ll need from the back of the ambulance.”

Realization hit me…I was being taken by these men so I could provide medical care to someone. To an unknown location where my patient could be fighting for their life from something I couldn’t treat. And if they died, odds were good that these men wouldn’t be happy.

I started fighting as though my life counted on getting away from them—because it likely did. “Mark, help!”

My partner rounded the front of the ambulance just as the guy holding my arm lifted me off my feet to toss me into the van.

“No, stop! You can’t take her,” Mark yelled.

The driver turned in his seat and aimed a gun at me. “Come any closer, and I’ll shoot her.”

Mark stopped, holding his hands high in the air, his eyes agonized as he stared at me. “Take me instead.”

“No way in hell,” the guy who’d manhandled me growled. “She’ll be a fuck of a lot easier to handle than you.”

The man who’d been ordered to grab supplies dumped a bunch of stuff into the back of the van before climbing in with me. I was relieved to see my trauma bag was one of the items since it had most of what I needed on a variety of calls, and I had a feeling that I could use whatever help I could get.

On that thought, I shouted, “Call Eli! Tell him what happened.”

“Will do. Stay safe,” Mark answered, a muscle jumping in his jaw as the two remaining men climbed into the van. Then they slammed the door shut, and the driver stepped on the gas.

From my safety training, I knew that being taken to a secondary location was bad. Getting shot in the head would’ve been worse, though. As long as I was still alive, I had hope. And a secret weapon who would look for me and had an entire club to help.

“Who’s Eli?” the guy who’d manhandled me into the van asked.

“My boyfriend.” I’d been awkward when Mark had used the term earlier to describe him since we hadn’t really made our relationship official. And calling Eli any word that started with boy seemed like an odd choice, but under these circumstances, it was a heck of a lot better than explaining he was the biker I was sleeping with…and was supposed to move in with if I made it out of this situation alive.

If these guys knew about my connection to the Hounds of Hellfire, either it’d scare them into letting me go or make them freak out enough that they’d decide to get rid of me right away to limit their chances of getting caught.

“Do what we say, and you just might get the chance to see your boyfriend again.”

I rubbed my damp palms against my thighs and asked, “Are you taking me to someone who needs medical care?”

“Keep your mouth shut until we get where we’re going.”

I pressed my lips into a flat line and twisted my hands together while I did what he ordered. The ride felt as though it took forever, but it was probably only ten minutes later when we pulled in front of an abandoned warehouse in the industrial sector of the town between mine and Eli’s.

I didn’t put up a fight when I was dragged from the van. Or when I was shoved through the rusted door that the driver opened for the guy who was manhandling me yet again.

The place was filthy, and the lighting was awful, but there was no missing the man sprawled on the floor. The piece of clothing pressed against his abdomen was covered in blood, and a small red pool had gathered beneath him. Even from here, I could see how pale his skin was.

As I approached, I took in the perspiration dotting his forehead and upper lip. “What happened to him?”

The guy behind me shoved me forward before answering, “He got shot.”

“In the stomach?”

“Yeah.”

I rushed over to the injured man and dropped to my knees next to him, gently moving the blood-soaked shirt up so I could see where the bullet wound was. “Did it happen here?”

“Why do you want to know?” one of the guys carrying in the supplies snarled.

“Because I need to know if you moved him or if he was mobile on his own,” I explained. “With where he was hit, there’s a high risk of spinal damage.”

“Didn’t happen here,” the man I’d coined their ringleader in my head answered. “He was able to climb into the van, but we had to help him out when we got here.”

“How long ago did this all happen?”

“Thirty minutes ago.” He raked his fingers through his hair. “We were lucky to come across your ambulance so quickly.”

All of the worries that I’d had when Eli asked me to treat Ink’s bullet wound were multiplied. This situation was worse in so many ways. I didn’t have access to all of the medical equipment available to me in the Hounds of Hellfire clinic. This guy had been shot in his abdomen, not his thigh. And instead of having Eli and Echo there to help me, I had four men with guns who were ready to shoot me if anything went wrong. Even if it wasn’t my fault.

“Your friend really does need a hospital,” I insisted. “He got shot in one of the worst possible places. If his liver, spleen, or intestines were hit, the internal bleeding is life-threatening. And even if I can stop it, there’s a much higher risk of infection due to the bacteria in his digestive tract.”

“You tell us what you need to fix him, and I’ll send a couple of the guys out to get it for you.”

I tilted my head back to glare at him. “What I need is a doctor. And not just any kind—a surgeon. I’m only an EMT, not even a paramedic. You would’ve been better off if you had taken Mark. He was a combat medic. If you’re not willing to take your friend to the nearest emergency room, he would’ve been your best bet at saving his life.”

“You better hope you’re wrong.” He used the barrel of his gun to point at his wounded friend and then me again as he threatened, “Because your fates are tied together now. If he dies, you die.”

I’d just found Eli and fell head over heels in love with him. I needed to make it out of this alive so I could tell him those three little words that I’d never said to another man other than my father.

“Then take the gun away from my head so I can focus on what I need to do.” I pointed at my trauma bag. “And bring that over here while one of your men checks the stuff they took from my rig to see if there are any pain meds. Your friend is gonna need them.”

As I began my examination, I sent up a little prayer that Eli would find me before things got worse for me.