Ryder’s War (Blind Jacks MC #3)

Chapter 1-Nursing a Brother

Tiffany

Blood and bullets—some things never changed, but Tiffany had. Six months as a Blind Jacks old lady had taught her that sometimes the fastest response wasn't running away, but running toward the chaos.

As gunfire shattered the autumn air, Tiffany's hands were already moving, grabbing her medical bag with the practiced efficiency that came from loving a man like Ryder.

The Halloween decorations suddenly seemed less festive and more prophetic as she raced toward the sound. She'd helped hang those decorations yesterday, another surreal moment in her new normal—the nurse who used to run from violence now planning MC parties between patching up bullet wounds. The plastic skeletons seemed to mock her as she grabbed her ever-ready medical bag. Some habits were worth keeping.

These days, trouble usually wore a Blind Jacks cut—and usually belonged to her man.

Racing back in the direction the sound originated from, she was intercepted by one of the brothers and hustled into the MC clubhouse instead. Clutching her soft-sided first-aid bag, she came to a staggering stop inside the back room.

Old instincts warred with new ones—her nurse's training pushing her forward while five years of running from danger screamed at her to flee. But that was before Ryder, before she'd learned that sometimes safety meant choosing the right kind of dangerous.

The sight unfolding in front of her was nothing short of alarming. Ace was lying on his back across a pool table, and Ryder was standing over him, plugging a hole in his thigh with a pool stick. The table was covered with copious amounts of blood, and if that wasn’t bad enough, black bats and Halloween streamers hung down around the arguing pair, like a not-so-funny comic backdrop.

The contrast would have been comical if she hadn't become so accustomed to how the club mixed violence with normality. Even their parties came with a body count.

Stumbling over a hay bale, she ignored the pumpkin that went rolling off to the side and slid to a stop beside the pool table.

Tiffany bit back a smile despite the situation. Six months together had taught her that under his gruff exterior, her man had good instincts—even if his execution needed work. “This is not proper compression procedures for a wound, babe,”

she chided, the endearment as natural now as breathing.

Jerking open her bag, Tiffany snapped on a pair of rubber gloves before shooting the love of her life another disapproving glare. “Why in the hell did you take the first-aid class, if you weren’t going to take it seriously?”

Jerking back, Ryder stared at her indignantly. “Don’t look at me like that, doll. I tried to push on it with both hands, but the blood wouldn’t stop gushing out all over the damn place. The stupid fucker’s got abnormal goblin blood or some shit. I swear, it was fightin’ to get out of his body. What the hell am I supposed to do with that? Pluggin’ the damn hole up is the only thing that worked.”

Tiffany shook her head and mumbled, “Yeah, you’re a freaking hero, babe.”

Quickly pulling out a sterile pad and some clamps, she climbed onto the table to have a look for herself. Pulling slightly at the skin around the pool stick caused blood to pool again, and Ace groaned in pain.

“It sounds like the bullet may have nicked a secondary artery. You’re simply compressing the artery at the injury site. Plug it with your finger next time.”

“No fuckin’ way.”

Unsure exactly what was up with the stubborn set of Ryder’s jaw, Tiffany insisted again, “I’m serious. It’s less likely to damage the artery and soft tissue.”

His face contorted into an expression of absolute disgust. Jesus, what was his problem?

“You gotta be kidding me, doll. I ain’t about to stick my finger in some dude I don’t even like.”

Her big, beautiful biker was looking at her as if she was ten kinds of crazy.

Ace’s furious voice filled the air as his hands white-knuckled the sides of the pool table. “Fuck you, man. I don’t even think of you as a brother.”

Ryder smacked him roughly on the side of the head and bent down to look him in the eye. “Of course you don’t. You ain’t a brother until you earn your bottom rocker. Till then, you’re just a snot-nosed prospect.”

“I’m the only snot-nosed prospect around here who’s done a dime, so fuck off.”

Tiffany caught the flash of respect in Ryder's eyes before he masked it with annoyance. The club had its own hierarchy, but respect was earned in unexpected ways. Prison time meant something different here than it had in her old world of hospital administration and charity galas.

Climbing up to get a better look, Tiffany scolded the squabbling men. “Knock it off, both of you.”

Cutting her eyes up to Ryder, she gentled her voice. “Ease up on the pool stick, baby. I’m going to try and clamp off the artery. This is so far beyond my ability, I don’t even have words...”

The moment he pulled back, a tiny arc of blood squirted from the wound. Using forceps, Tiffany quickly clamped off the artery and got to work stabilizing him for transport to the local emergency room. Her time as an ER nurse came in handy hanging around with this wild bunch of bikers.

Glancing up at Ace’s handsome face, she saw he had three dots tattooed beside one eye and a tiny teardrop inked on his cheek. She vaguely remembered Ryder saying that meant he’d killed someone in prison and led a crazy life. Then again, that statement could pretty much describe every man in the club, including her beloved Ryder.

She frowned as she continued to work on his wound. “I thought you two were finished shooting each other up.”

Ace darted a quick glance from Ryder back to her. Licking his lips, he admitted softly. “I…uh…kind of shot myself.”

Tiffany noticed the little drops of sweat beading up on Ace’s forehead and the tightness around his mouth when he spoke. His gaze slid away she tried to catch his eye.

“Let me guess. You were cleaning your gun, and it accidentally went off.”

That was always the story when someone got shot, and nobody wanted to give up the details.

Ace’s eyes jerked back up to hers. “Hell no. I pulled the trigger, and there was a delayed discharge. I thought it was a misfire. When I brought the gun down to open it up, a bullet came out and hit me in the leg.”

“I see.”

Tiffany could almost imagine that in her mind’s eye. Since there was a ring of truth to his tone, she let it go and continued cleaning and packing the wound.

“It burns like a bitch.”

Ace’s exasperated words tugged at her heartstrings. Since they’d do a drug screen when he hit the emergency room, however, it would not be in his best interest to have illegal pain killers in his system. That meant all she had to offer was empathy and fast transport to a doctor.

“There can be particles of burning and unburned powder embedded in your skin. Gunpowder residue can feel like burning. Because the gun was so close to your body when it discharged, you caught a little more of it than usual this time.”

“Are you gonna stitch me up?”

“Your artery is damaged beyond my ability to repair. You really do need a good surgeon.”

Smiling up at her, Ace’s expression was more like a grimace. “I’d rather you do it. You have a nice touch.”

Ryder cuffed the injured man on the side of his head yet again. “I already told you not to get friendly with my old lady, you stupid fucker.”

Shooting Ryder a frown, Tiffany turned her attention back to Ace. “I’m a registered nurse, not a physician. I know you wouldn’t want the artery to collapse at some point in the future when you’re running for your life, now, would you?”

He groaned pitifully when she taped the wound closed over a stack of gauze. “No, ma’am, I sure wouldn’t.”

“Want me to drive you to the hospital?”

Ryder grunted as he jumped down off the table and turned to offer her a hand. “You ain’t driving him anywhere, ‘cause I don’t trust this stupid fucker any farther than I can throw him. I already called for an ambulance.”

Letting Ryder help her back down off the pool table, she didn’t object when he pulled her in for a light peck on the lips. Looking up at him, she smiled. “You two have practically been joined at the hip lately, so I’m not buying all that BS about hating him for a minute.”

Shoving a strand of hair back out of her face, he looked into her eyes. “Don’t act like you know me, baby girl. I’m a dark, mysterious fucker. No woman knows what’s going on inside my head.”

Rolling her eyes, she pulled back. “Keep telling yourself that, handsome. Meanwhile, I’ll just keep learning all your secrets.”

“Ain’t no good can come of that, babe.”

Ace’s exasperated voice cut through their conversation. “Hey, there’s a dying man right over here. Any plan for how to deal with that problem, lovebirds?”

Stepping back, Tiffany gestured toward the door. “Go look out for the ambulance and get them in here as soon as possible. I don’t feel comfortable moving him.”

“Sure thing, babe.”

Turning to face Ace, Ryder pointed at the man. “Do not touch my pretty little nurse, you filthy fucker.”

Ace immediately reached out and touched her arm with one bloody finger.

Punching the palm of one hand with his fist, Ryder turned to leave, muttering under his breath, “Can’t wait for a certain stupid fucker to get patched up so I can pound him into sawdust.”

Shooting Ace a dark look, Tiffany began tossing the bloodied bandages and ripped packages into a nearby trash can. “You sure do love to keep my man perpetually pissed off at you. Mind if I ask why you do that?”

Easing to a sitting position, he kind of shrugged. “If it weren’t for arguing with the dumb fuck, I’d have no one to talk to.”

Moving to his side and helping him to stand on his good leg, she replied, “That’s not true. I see the other club members talking to you all the time.”

“They talk at me, not to me. I’m the stupid, pathetic fucker wearing the face of a child rapist. Ryder is the only man in this club willing to look me in the face when he talks to me. How’s that for fucked up?”

Grabbing her bag, she frowned at him, remembering someone mentioning his twin brother and the drama that hung over him like a dark cloud “It’s got to be hard on you, sharing your face with someone like that. Who’s older, you or him?”

Glancing away, he grunted. “I’m three and half minutes older and a whole fucking lot less of a demented freak. Not that it matters to anyone around these parts.”

A small, timid voice sounded off from the doorway. “It matters to me.”

The sight of Ryder's sister froze Tiffany's blood faster than any gunshot. Rose's black-dyed hair and witch costume couldn't hide how young she still was—too young to be anywhere near club business, even on Halloween. The memory of what Ace's brother had done still haunted them all, making every interaction between Rose and Ace a minefield of unspoken trauma.

“Rose, your parents will not be happy that you came into the clubhouse. You know the rules. Amscray before they find you in here with him.”

“Forget her parents. Ryder will lose what little is left of his mind if word gets back to him that his little sister was in here. The barbecue's safer for you,”

Ace growled, but something in his eyes betrayed a deeper concern. The same look Ryder got whenever his sister came too close to club business. Some sins left permanent marks—Ace knew that better than most. Rose might be sixteen now, but some wounds didn't care about birthdays.

Planting her hands on her hips, Rose stared the huge man down. “Don’t talk to me like I’m a child. I’m sixteen now.”

“You’ll be a grown up when you’re twenty-one. Now get the hell outta here, kid.”

Regardless of the words he chose, Ace’s voice took on a soft quality when he spoke to the teen, and Tiffany realized he was afraid of hurting her feelings. He refused to look at her as silence spun out between the two of them.

Tiffany didn’t know what to do, and things were already getting absurdly awkward. “Rose, will you see if the ambulance has arrived? They don’t always come in with sirens blaring.”

Nodding, the young teen turned on her heel and walked out the door, her long, black hair catching the wind and floating behind her like a cape. The sunlight rushed through the door, casting strange, creepy shadows of the Halloween decorations on the floor that slowly diminished as it drifted closed.

Whirling around to look at Ace, Tiffany demanded, “What was that all about?”

Ace huffed. “Who the hell knows. After the shit my brother pulled on her, she needs goddamn therapy, if you ask me. Of course no one ever asks me shit. Why in the hell do I feel like I could run circles around this building?”

“When the human body sustains serious damage, it releases adrenaline and endorphins to dull the pain and give the person the strength to fight or flee. It’ll wear off before long, and you better pray you’re in front of a doctor when it happens, because that’s when the pain kicks in full force.”

“Jesus, you sound like a walking medical encyclopedia.”

Their conversation was interrupted by several volunteers from the local ambulance service barreling through the door. After checking Ace over and hearing Tiffany’s rundown on what was beneath those bandages, they elected not to tear them off. Loading him carefully onto a stretcher, they eased him into the back of a waiting ambulance. It all happened so quickly, Tiffany didn’t have time to ask to go, leaving her behind with worry niggling at the back of her mind that the clamp would fail, and he’d bleed out if the EMS workers weren’t careful.

Watching the ambulance disappear in a cloud of dust, Tiffany's mind raced through the possibilities. Hospital meant cops. Cops meant questions. Questions meant danger—not just for Ace, but for the whole club. Her new family.

The Halloween decorations cast long shadows across the lot as the sun dipped low, and she couldn't shake the feeling that this was just the beginning. A wealthy man's reach was long, and she'd learned the hard way that money bought more than just fancy cars and designer suits. It bought information.

As the ambulance disappeared in a cloud of dust, Tiffany couldn't help wondering if hospital records might finally give Sawyer the breadcrumb trail he needed to find her. After all, in her experience, trouble never came alone, especially where the Blind Jacks were concerned.