Chapter Nine
Katey
I ’d been sitting in my room at the clubhouse thinking about the shitstorm that was my life. At this point, I wasn’t sure how many days had passed. It could’ve been seven or one thousand, and I wouldn’t have known the difference because I rarely left the room. Despite what Sniper and his friends thought, none of this was to punish anyone except maybe myself.
I hated everything.
I hated Ethan with enough passion to power ten million suns. I hated myself for being stupid enough to fall for the wrong man. No, not stupid because he hadn’t been like this at first. I met him during my last year of medical school, and he was handsome and charming, and most of all he’d been kind. But it was all a lie. Ethan waited, bided his time until I was solidly in love with him before he pulled the rug out from under me. But I stayed after the first of the many red flags, such as his jealousy over my long hours during my residency. Then when my residency was over, I stayed just long enough that when I finally found it in myself to leave, he was too attached to let me go.
Attached. What a goddamn joke.
Ethan had never been attached, he’d just felt a deep sense of ownership that he refused to let me go. In hindsight I knew it was his ego more than anything.
At the time though, I hadn’t been so wise. The abuse had come on so slowly that I hadn’t recognized it as abuse at first. The verbal jabs and the mental ones, making me second guess myself. Doubt my skills as a woman and a doctor. Soon enough his hands joined the party because every little fucking thing I did pissed him off.
Came home late? Backhand across the face.
Smiled too big at one of my male colleagues? Punch to the gut.
Dress too sexy? Kick to the ribs.
Not sexy enough? Kick to the ribs.
Too much makeup? Whipped with a belt.
It was awful and every escape attempt had ended with Ethan tracking me down and finding me. Beating me. Dragging me back.
Until this time. I smiled to myself as I thought about that last escape that had freed me from Ethan. Sure, I had to give up medicine to make it impossible for him to find me, but he hadn’t found me until recently.
The asshole.
He had a way of taking every good thing in my life and obliterating it.
Suddenly gunshots rang out, startling a scream out of me and pulling me from my thoughts. Two shots sounded, they were close enough to be worrisome but not inside the clubhouse. I tore my gaze from the ceiling and sat up as another cluster of shots rang out.
Instinctively, I froze. I stayed that way for just a moment before my medical instincts kicked in and I was on my feet. My heart pounded. What if it was Sniper who ended up in front of one of those bullets? I’d be back where I started. My feet carried me to the door and down the dimly lit hallway that led to the bar. I arrived just as three bikers rushed inside, the blond in the middle hung onto the other two.
“Fucking ambush,” the blond groaned, wincing with every step he took before he finally collapsed onto the floor. His pained grunts tore through the sudden silence in the room.
Without looking around the room, I dropped to my knees in front of the man and lifted up his shirt. “What’s your name tough guy?”
He managed a laugh. “Falcon.”
He was alert and that was a good sign. “Nice to meet you, Falcon. Can you tell me what happened?” He winced in pain, so without waiting for his response, I quickly checked his front. He’d taken one shot to the midsection and as I turned him on his side, I sighed in relief when I spotted the exit wound.
“It was probably the Dead Crows,” Falcon finally said. “Their VP is pissed that his girl likes my dick better than his.” His grin was there, and I realized if I gave myself a chance, I might like Falcon.
“Okay, let’s get you up on your feet.” I looked up at the two men who brought him in. “We need to get him on a flat surface. Covered, if there are towels or blankets around.”
The guys stared at each other for a long moment but finally did what I asked.
Once he was on the table, I crouched down and started examining his wound properly. The men who brought him in were all standing around, I heard one saying that he’d called Doc—who I assumed to be the actual club doctor—or at least a club brother with medical experience.
“Where the fuck’s Laura?” someone shouted, but I didn’t pay attention because my focus was on Falcon’s side.
There was no time to wait, not for Laura the nurse, or whatever doctor they had on call. Falcon was losing a lot of blood, and the wound was low in his belly, so he was bleeding faster than I liked. If I didn’t hurry he would be dead in minutes.
I didn’t stop to think, I just moved as muscle memory kicked in. “I need clean towels or sheets, whatever you have,” I called out. “And hot water.”
“What’s she doing?” someone whispered behind me.
“There’s a medical kit in my car—unless you already have supplies here.” I ripped off my t-shirt and pressed it to his side. I needed to stop the bleeding.
“How’s it look?”
My gaze flicked down to Falcon and I gave a relieved smile. It looked like the bleeding was slowing. “Not too bad. I just need to explore the wound so I can make sure there are no fragments in there.”
“Nice bra.”
I grinned despite myself, if he could make comments about my underwear, then he mustn’t be feeling too bad. Either that, or he was still high on adrenaline. “I need alcohol.”
“Me too,” Falcon laughed. “A double shot of whiskey will do.”
“Where the fuck is Doc? What the fuck are you doing?” someone shouted angrily. I glanced up and saw it was Sniper—he’d shoved his club brothers aside and was now glaring at me.
I gritted my teeth and said, “I am a fucking doctor! I specialize in emergency medicine, and this is exactly what I do, so please stop just standing around and get me what I need to save your friend before he bleeds out!”
He looked stunned for a second, before saying, “Sure thing. On it.”
Moments later he reappeared beside me with a stack of towels and sheets in his arms. “Do whatever you can to save him.”
I nodded. Snatching one of the towels from the top of the stack, I pressed it to Falcon’s side. Quiet settled all around me as I got to work. As well as the kit from my car, someone brought me a medical kit they kept in the clubhouse. Opening it I let out a gasp when I saw the contents. Clearly bullet wounds and battlefield surgery was something they’d encountered before. There were vials of antibiotics, suture material, bandages, and most importantly a vial of lidocaine. As I drew it up in the syringe and started injecting it around his wound, I was the calmest I’d felt in more than a year. While these weren’t ideal circumstances to be operating, I felt confident that he’d be okay. I opened a sterile scalpel, the lidocaine would numb his skin, but it wasn’t going to be painless.
“You good?” I asked him.
“Yeah, just peachy,” he responded.
“Inhale deeply and hold it until I tell you to exhale. You might feel some of this, but I’ve got no choice.”
“Got it.” Falcon inhaled deeply. I made the incision then started to explore the wound with my gloved fingers. He let out a low growl.
“Sorry,” I said.
There was no fresh bleeding which was good, I couldn’t see any obvious bullet fragments, which was also good. “Do you guys have access to x-rays?” I asked.
“Yeah,” Sniper answered. “Doc can arrange for off-the-record tests. Does he need one?”
“I can’t feel any fragments, but it would be best to check. So I’d have your club doctor arrange that.” I gave the wound a final once over then said, “Okay, we’re all good. I’ll disinfect and stitch you up.” I worked quickly and precisely, completely focused on the task at hand. This was my happy place, the place I could finally relax. After I finished suturing, I stood back and looked at my work. The stitches were neat, and I knew they wouldn’t leave much of a scar. “All good. How are you feeling?”
“Like I got shot, Doc.”
I laughed. “That’s normal,” I told him and covered the wound with a bandage while I rattled off care instructions. “I’ve given you a shot of antibiotics, but I can’t prescribe you anything or else Ethan will find me, but you need antibiotics for a week, and also pain meds.”
“Prescribe them,” Sniper demanded.
I glared over my shoulder at him. “What?”
“Prescribe them. We need to smoke this asshole out, don’t we?”
Oh. Right. “Okay.” I grabbed the prescription pad in my bag and wrote two prescriptions that would bring this thing with my ex to a head.
One way or another.