41. Kelsey
Kelsey
Behind a chain-link fence, several cars, in various states of disrepair, were parked in front of a large gray cinder block building.
On the side, painted in bold block letters, was the name Oberlin.
Kelsey had driven by it a bunch of times but never needed to utilize the services. Pulling into the lot confused her.
A body shop.
Why would they go there?
She’d overhead Kev telling someone they were coming. The person on the other end of the phone loudly made her feelings of displeasure well known. However, he didn’t seem bothered. At least not by the reaction of the woman on the call.
He was in a lot of pain and bleeding far too much. Even in the low light, she noticed he’d gotten pale. Beads of sweat lined his hairline, and he was clammy to the touch. Kelsey wasn’t a doctor, but even she could see he was worse for wear.
While she never claimed to be an expert, she was pretty sure a body shop worked on cars, not people. Then again, she wasn’t well-versed in the criminal underworld of bikers. For all she knew, this was a front for some black-market hospital that extracted and sold stolen organs.
What had she gotten herself involved with?
As the car stopped, light billowed from the open door.
A woman with spiky brown hair and glasses, wearing dark-gray coveralls stained with grease, exited the building. Her arms were folded across her chest as she approached the car. Behind her, someone else cautiously followed.
Who were they?
“He’s in awful shape,” the driver said as he got out of the SUV.
What would they do about it?
The woman with short hair blew out a heavy breath and made her way toward the back of the car. She opened Kev’s door.
“Jesus Christ,” she hissed as she looked him over.
“Good to see you too,” Kev mused through clenched teeth.
So he knew her. Of course he did. Why would he go to a stranger in this situation?
“What the fuck happened?” she asked.
Did that matter? If this woman had the ability to fix him, then she should get to it. Ask questions later.
He attempted to shrug as he scooted. “Stabbed a few times.”
She stepped back and shook her head. When her gaze found Kelsey, she narrowed her eyes. “Who is that?”
“Better question,” Kev groaned as he exited the vehicle. “Who’s that?” He gestured to the Black woman behind the one he spoke to.
Short, spiky-haired lady glanced over her shoulder as though she wasn’t aware anyone was there. “Janell.”
“Date?” Kev asked with a sputtered chuckle.
The woman rolled her eyes. “She’s a nurse. Kid called and said you were fucked up, so I cashed in a favor.”
Janell came forward. “Hi. I’m Janell Cleary. I’m an advanced practice nurse. Your sister said you could use some attention.”
Sister? Kelsey sat back in the car, watching the exchange and learning a hell of a lot about Kev in the process.
Janell’s large brown eyes swept over Kevlar, assessing him. “You look like shit,” she commented.
Rude! Was that her medical diagnosis? Kelsey bit her tongue. This wasn’t about her, but these people could be a bit more understanding. Kev had a knife sticking out of his side!
“Thanks.” Kevlar coughed and crumpled.
Luckily, his sister reached for him and caught him before he toppled to the ground.
“Dammit, Weston,” she grumbled.
Who?
“Oh my God!” Kelsey squealed and threw her door open and hopped out.
Rounding the car, she stood as Kev’s sister struggled to keep him from falling over. Janell stepped up to assist, but the driver stood back, leaning on the fender of the SUV, smoking a cigarette as though nothing out of the ordinary was going on.
Where was his sense of urgency?
“How can I help?” Kelsey asked, approaching them, unsure if another set of arms would hinder the process.
As the women shuffled toward the door, Janell glanced in her direction. “You hurt too?”
Kelsey ran a hand under her chin, recalling what had happened to her earlier.
She hadn’t forgotten so much as she shoved it aside out of concern for Kev.
She wasn’t someone who’d been on the sidelines watching the hellfire rain down.
Men had their unwanted hands on her. Weapons were used against her. She’d bled too.
But not like Kev. He was the priority.
“Nothing serious.” She waved a hand. “He needs your attention.”
Following along helplessly, Kelsey went with the women inside the auto shop. Each lady had one of Kevlar’s arms over her shoulder. His head lolled forward, and his feet dragged on the ground as they brought him past the lifts to the back of the building.
A steel desk had several towels laid over it.
“Careful.” Kelsey cringed, watching them hoist him up and onto the desk.
Kev’s sister glared at her once she’d let him go. “Who are you?”
“Kelsey,” she said quickly, realizing that meant nothing.
While a portion of her wanted to claim being his kitten, that wouldn’t help either. Besides, this didn’t seem like the right time to bring that up, so she stuck with her name.
The sister furrowed her brows. Kelsey understood. She hadn’t given a sufficient answer, but she didn’t know what else to say.
“She’s the reason Kev looks like that,” his brother announced as he entered the room carrying Carrie.
“Oh, thank God.” Kelsey breathed a heavy sigh seeing her friend.
Though her relief was short-lived. Carrie’s eyes were closed. Had she passed out too? Kelsey couldn’t blame her after the evening her friend had. Anyone would be overwhelmed by it.
“Goddammit.” The sister rolled her eyes. “You got one too? You’re aware this isn’t a hospital, right? How many more people should I expect?”
Shifting Carrie in his arms, he glanced down at her. “This is it. She’s Hitman’s sister.”
Hitman? What the hell? Carrie’s brother was Tim. He’d died a few years ago, tragically, in a building fire. It’d been all over the news. Did Kev and his family know him? How?
Kelsey’s head spun, either from the night’s events or from the information she wasn’t sure how to process.
The sister muttered curses under her breath, which drew Kelsey’s attention back to Kev lying on the desk, groaning in pain. Her heart pinched, and she wrung her hands, fretting over his condition. She’d never been in a situation like this before.
Blood dripped down his arm and saturated his torn shirt. The color had drained from his face. He didn’t look good.
Wearing rubber gloves, Janell poked at the knife in his side.
“Is he still alive?” Kelsey had to ask.
“For now,” Janell said.