Cork (Raging Barons MC #19)

CHAPTER ONE

-:- CORK -:-

The loud bangs and the shaking of the ground were the cause of the alarms sounding. I spring out of bed and quickly put on my clothes. I run out of my apartment and down the stairs after quickly grabbing my weapon.

I can hear men talking, and there are more than I can take down on my own, but this is my shop, and it is the MC’s business.

“Put your fucking hands in the air,” I snarl as I point the sawn-off shotgun at them.

The good thing about a sawn-off is the shot spreads, and I’ll hit more than one with ease.

“Hey, it’s only you, and there are four of us.” I point the sawn-off at him as I grin. Now I’ve been practicing Axel, Drag, and Buzz’s nasty grins, and the flinch I see on this fucker’s face tells me I may have just perfected it.

“You know this is the property of the Raging Barons MC don’t you? You know that I’m a brother of that MC, and you know I’m not fuckin’ joking when I tell you to get the fuck out of here or I’ll fill your ass full of buckshot.”

I’m just registering the fact that I have my sawn-off pointed at three men, not four, when I sense movement behind me.

Shit! Number four! As I start to turn, I feel something solid slam into my right arm, and I drop my weapon.

My arm is numb, and as I complete the turn, I see a crowbar scything at my head.

Throwing myself under the bar, I manage to send my attacker flailing backwards.

As he hits the ground, there’s a loud crack, and he’s out for the count.

Turning back to face the other three, I kick the sawn-off shotgun out of the reach of one who is bending down to grab it.

As he looks up and snarls, my knee makes contact with his jaw, and that’s another out of the fight.

As I’m mentally congratulating myself on taking two out, everything goes black. I don’t even register the sound of breaking glass as a bottle smashes over my head.

Waking up with a hangover to end all hangovers, my blurred vision shows someone kneeling over me. Trying to sit up quickly, my head spins and I fall back, but my head hits something softer than the shop floor.

“Whoa there, Kemosabe! Slow down while I’m stitching you up,” a woman’s voice tells me, and there’s a firm hand pressing on my chest.

“Who are you, and what are you doing?” I manage to spit out between waves of dizziness.

“I’m Dallas, and I’m trying to get some butterfly stitches onto the nasty flap of skin that is bleeding all over my pants. Now keep still while I do what I can until Stitch arrives.”

“Did they get away with much of the stock?” I don’t feel like swiveling my head around to see what is missing.

“Judging by the mess in here, I’d say they damaged more than they stole. They rammed the back doors to gain entry and dislodged the racking. I’m guessing that you keep all the cheaper stock on the shelving out here? You upset their little party when you showed up with your persuader.”

“My what?”

“Your sawn-off shotgun. Quite a persuader in most situations.”

“Oh. Yes. I keep it for emergencies, like this. Never expected to use it in anger though.”

“Okay. I’ve given that a lick and a promise until Stitch does a proper job on you. The bleeding is much slower, but you need to lay still or you’ll open it up again. That was a hefty blow you took. Either that or you have a soft head.”

Not being in the mood for light-hearted banter or getting into an argument over the thickness of my skull, I decide to keep quiet and wait for Stitch.

Hearing footsteps approaching, I crack open my eyes and see a guy in a BaronsSecure uniform. Before I can say he’s a bit late turning up, Dallas asks if he found anything.

“Nothing. They had obviously reinforced the back of their truck for this kind of thing. How’s Sleeping Beauty doing?”

“And you can just fuck off. If you’d got here sooner, maybe you would have caught them instead of rolling up ten minutes after they'd left.” I’ll give him Sleeping Beauty, the cheeky bastard.

“We were here quick enough to save you from bleeding out, asshole.”

“Now, now. Play nicely boys. Cork, meet Pryce. Pryce, meet Cork. We got the call as soon as they hit the doors and triggered the alarm, but we were on the other side of town. Always the way, isn’t it? Sounds like some of your brothers are on their way.”

A second or two later, I hear the sound of hogs approaching.

They’re not sparing the horses either. Moments later Stitch rushes in, bag in hand and a look of concern when he sees me still on the floor.

Without so much as a word to me, he starts firing questions at Dallas.

She tells him what she found, how she dealt with it and why she kept me on the floor.

Shining a flashlight in my eyes, he frowns, and I don’t like the look he’s giving me. Tilting my head to the one side, he grunts as he examines me.

“Did you do these stitches?” He asks, and I think he’s not the sharpest knife in the drawer if he thinks I could stitch myself up.

“Don’t be so fucking stupid...” I start to answer him before realizing he is talking to Dallas.

“Sure did. It’s a fairly straightforward wound. Just slap the flap back in place and stick it down. I’ve seen and dealt with a lot worse.”

“Prior military?” Stitch asks.

“Hell, no! Cowboying on a ranch for eight years you get to see all sorts of shit. Not to mention tending bar in a few redneck bars along the way. I even got to stitch myself up one time. Some asshole had himself one of those dang belt-buckle knives. They think of everything these days to stick you with.” She laughs, and it’s a pleasant sound.

Before I get a chance to say a word of warning, the world starts to spin, and I turn my head and throw up.

Coming around again, I find myself in bed.

My bed, too. That’s a surprise. I half expected Stitch to drag my sorry ass to the clubhouse where he could observe me and carry out experiments.

That’s not fair. Stitch isn’t a Frankenstein-type doctor.

He’s looked after the brothers from all kinds of injuries, and he’s made sure that all the women have been well cared for during their pregnancies.

We haven’t lost anyone on his watch, as they say.

Hearing the shower switch off, I look toward my bathroom door. Expecting Stitch to come through the door after probably rinsing my vomit off him, I’m shocked when Dallas walks out wrapped in a bath sheet and drying her hair with a hand towel.

“Oh, you’re awake. You need to change your diet. Whatever you’ve been eating, it stinks. Your vomit almost made me throw up, and there was a helluva lot of it, man!” Hearing footsteps I wait to see who else is in the apartment.

Pryce walks in as though he owns the place and hands a travel bag to Dallas.

“Delta was on a night shift monitoring one of the businesses, so she threw some stuff in a bag for you. Your other stuff I dropped in a dumpster. No one was going near it.” Looking at me, he says, “What did you eat, man? I’ve been on some benders in my time and eaten some doubtful meals, but nothing has made me vomit like that. Jesus!”

Hearing more voices, I recognize Axel’s among them. Dallas takes her bag into the bathroom and raises her eyebrows as Pryce goes to follow her. “You can stay and keep Kemosabe over there company. You ain’t coming in here, Pryce.”

Turning, he heads for the door but has to stop and wait as Axel, Drag, Buzz, and Wings walk inside. He leaves as Axel stands by my bed and shakes his head.

“What the fuck happened here?” Axel waits, and I can’t think of what to tell him.

“Honestly, Pres, I don’t remember much except waking up and Dallas was doing something to my head. Everything is just a blank up until then.” I look at the four of them and, as I’d expect, Wings has something deep and profound to offer.

“Of course, you can only remember waking up next to a beautiful brunette. The rest of the evening was just a lead-up to that one perfect moment.” Wings doesn’t even blush when a voice from the bathroom states, “A beautiful brunette, huh?”

From the open bathroom door Dallas walks back into the bedroom in her new clean uniform.

“Guys, you’ll probably get far more from the CCTV than you will from Cork.

Whoever hit him with that bottle sure did a number on him, they were lucky they didn’t kill him.

It must have been a helluva bottle too.”

“Dallas is right. Stitch wants you to have an X-ray and some other checks. He’s organizing it right now. Whatever it was they hit you with could have killed you, Cork. I want these assholes. I want them found, caught and in the shed.”

Axel gives me a nod and then takes his escort out, mumbling about retribution and not justice as he goes.

Wings gives Dallas a nod and a wink and suggests to Axel that he spend some time at BaronsSecure reviewing the CCTV footage to see what can be gleaned from it.

I’m pretty damn sure he would be asking for Dallas’ help with that, too. The sly dog!

****

Two days! Two damn days of being poked, prodded, scanned, X-rayed, and God knows what else they’ve done to me! I was determined to walk out of the hospital room today if I had to fight every one of those doctors or nurses.

Now, I’m a very laid-back kinda guy, but being given a bed bath two days running by a nurse old enough to be my gran was too much.

Especially when she was definitely not washing and was definitely stroking!

There were plenty of young, attractive nurses that I would have stayed there for, but a man has his dignity.

Stitch was on my side with that, at least, and had me discharged.

I’m not convinced that he didn’t know, or wasn’t involved, in the whole granny nurse, touchy, strokey thing.

He had an evil grin when I told him about it.