Chapter Three #2
Sway was closer, so he rushed to Raff, grabbing him, and half-dragging him to the car.
I ran around the hood, dropping into the driver’s seat and reaching across to slam the passenger door as Sway and Raff fell into the backseat.
There was no waiting for everyone to get in their seats, to strap into their seatbelts. I threw the car into reverse and peeled down the dirt road, then turned in the direction we’d approached from.
My foot didn’t ease off the gas until we were three streets away.
My mind didn’t work until then, either.
“How is he?” I asked, glancing into the rearview to catch Sway’s gaze.
He looked rough.
Half his face was starting to bruise. His left eye was nearly swollen shut. Blood trickled half-heartedly from his nose.
But his gaze was clear, focused, likely running on adrenaline still and not feeling the pain.
“It’s not as deep as I was worried it might be,” Sway said. “But it’s nasty.”
“It’ll make a nice scar,” Raff said. “Chicks love scars. Speaking of chicks, just drop me off outside of Lulu’s place. I think she’s been dying for a chance to play nursemaid for me.”
Raff had a notorious one-sided crush on Detroit’s cousin Lulu since I’d met him. Before, even.
Lulu worked for the Italian mob in town, cooking their books so no one could ever find the dirty money they washed through their legit business—the local pub called The Bog.
“Pretty sure she’d tell us to get your ass out of her place before you bled all over her fancy carpet,” Sway teased.
“Can we get back to Shady Valley?” I asked.
Because any hospital on the way from here to there would have to report it. And none of us wanted to answer questions.
But back in our town, we had a doctor who just… didn’t ask questions. If it was safe to risk it, it was our best bet.
“It was bleeding like a fucking sieve for a while there,” Sway said. “But the pressure is working. If we can keep it from bleeding and he’s not showing any signs of shock, I think we can risk it. But maybe don’t be granny-tapping the gas.”
It had been about a four-hour drive from Shady Valley to the meeting spot.
But it was late at night.
Not many cars were on the roads.
And the truckers who were, once we hit the main drags, didn’t give a fuck if we were flying past them.
“Hey, yo, boss man,” Raff’s voice drifted to me, shaking me out of the stupor I’d been in while I focused on the road, making sure there were no speed traps set up anywhere, any cops taking a nap or dinner break off to the side of the road. “Well, here’s the thing,” he went on.
He sounded a little winded.
Was that just the pain?
Or were signs of shock setting in?
I couldn’t see him from my position, and I didn’t want to worry him by asking Sway if he was pale or sweaty.
“Well, shit went sideways. Long story short, we got the guns, but not the money. And you might want to make sure Doc Price is awake and available.”
I couldn’t make out what Slash was saying, but could hear the deep rumble of his voice coming from the phone.
“Well, think the guys are just a little busted up. But I have me a nice knife wound down my leg. Should be real pretty when it’s stitched up. Yeah, yeah, here you go,” he said.
It was Sway who spoke next as Raff held the phone up to his ear. He couldn’t reach for it himself, with both his hands pressing hard into Raff’s leg to keep the wound from bleeding.
“Slash, yeah, it was a shitshow. We’re on our way back. How far are we?” he asked.
It took a second to register that he was talking to me.
“Fuck if I know,” I admitted, staring out at the endless road ahead of us.
“Boss man, we’re about an hour and a half out. Maybe faster if we pick up speed closer to home,” Raff said before pushing the phone to Sway’s ear again.
“I think we can make it. The bleeding is under control. He’s obviously conscious and in his right mind.
Well, as right as his mind can be, that is,” Sway teased.
“He’s a little pale, yeah, but he lost a fuck-ton of blood before I got the pressure on.
He’s not weak. A little sweaty, but that could be pain.
Okay. Yeah. I’ll let you know if anything changes. ”
“See you, boss-man,” Raff said before ending the call.
“What’d he say?” I asked.
“That if you don’t see any cops, to step on it.”
So that was what I did.
And that hour and half shaved down to forty minutes.
By the time we pulled into Shady Valley, I was drenched in sweat from focusing so hard on the road and my control of the car at such high speeds.
I had to lay off the gas; the local police force didn’t have shit to do around town, so they would be all too happy to pull us over for speeding as I wove around the town and headed off in the direction of Dr. Price’s office.
He lived in a renovated house, his office on the lower level and his home upstairs.
The lights were all on across the first floor.
Several bikes were lined up at the curb—our brothers waiting for us.
The second the car pulled up, Slash was ripping the back door open and reaching inside to pull Raff out.
Sway went with him, still applying pressure as Detroit grabbed Raff’s feet and Saint rushed forward to help stabilize his bad leg.
It was the first time I got a good look at Raff since I’d seen him take that knife.
Good mood aside, he wasn’t looking great.
Sway was right; he was pale. But I think Sway was either playing it down when he talked to Slash, or it had gotten significantly worse since. There was a fine sheen of sweat on Raff’s face, and soaking through his clothes.
More than that, though, he looked tired and weak before he disappeared inside.
“You alright?” Coach asked, his hand landing on my shoulder and giving it a reassuring squeeze.
“I’m fine. Worried about Raff.”
“We can trust Dr. Price,” Coach reminded me. “And his nurse. And Saint actually called in some other nurse… from the prison? Dunno what the story is there…”
“She was partying at the clubhouse the other night. I guess he figured she’d done a good job stitching him up at the prison. And that she’s probably seen a lot of nasty shank and shiv injuries over the years.”
“He’s in good hands. He’ll be up and demanding some pretty thing come and give him a sponge bath in no time.”
“Hope you’re right,” I agreed when Slash, Saint, and Detroit moved back outside with Sway in tow.
Blood stained his hands and his pants and I couldn’t help but wonder how bad the backseat was saturated.
But there was no time for that.
“Talk,” Slash demanded, looking between the two of us.
“There was a… negotiation,” Sway started. “Everything was… under control. But then some animal or something snapped a twig somewhere, and all hell broke loose.”
“They thought you brought more guys,” Slash guessed.
“Seems like it. We were all fighting. I heard Raff howl in pain. I guess when he got stabbed. Then there was a gunshot,” Sway said, turning to me.
So everyone else did too.
“And their guy was down. And everyone scrambled.”
“He dead?” Slash asked.
“I think so,” I said, thinking about how still his chest had been even before he crashed down. “But I didn’t shoot him.”
“What do you mean you didn’t shoot him?” Sway asked, stiffening.
“It wasn’t me. He was behind me. Taking aim, from the looks of things.”
“If you didn’t shoot him, who did?” Slash asked.
“There was a woman…”