26. Mia
For hours it was silent, the men going about their business after Rex left. Millie and I holed up in Rex’s room, being generally nosey and rummaging through his drawers. When I found nothing interesting that could give me hints about the man beneath the leather, we got comfortable and watched Friends re-runs, a show that never failed to lift my mood.
Shouts sounded in the other room, and I lifted my head from the pillow, listening intently to what all the commotion could be about.
“What is it?” Millie whispered.
“Sshh, I don’t know. Let me listen.” Poking my head out of the door, men ran up and down the hall, their hands laden with towels and boxes, their heavy boots thumping along the corridor as angry faces ignored me to head to whatever the drama was.
Fear and curiosity was an equal mix inside me. My dad always said, ‘curiosity killed the cat’ and that jumping into investigating things leads to trouble, but I was a nurse, and judging by the box of supplies that Ryan was carrying, someone was hurt.
“Stay here,” I told Millie, pulling on a pair of socks, because I would not in any way walk barefoot on that floor.
“But Mia, you can’t?—”
“Stay. There,” I demanded, indecision lined her face before she nodded, giving into me. And before I knew it, I was running down the hall following the other men into God knows what.
It was chaos, and all I could think was where the hell was Rex?
He said he wouldn’t be gone long, and he’d been out for hours. The club gathered in a tight circle in the hall, first aid kits and clean towels stacked on the bar—an unhygienic surface that was currently contaminating the stark white cloth. I really bloody hoped they weren’t planning on using those now, not after I’d seen Emma faceplant the bar earlier on, her scabby mouth coming disgustingly close to a place where I put my hands.
Gauge was arguing with someone on the phone, white knuckles clenching the device as he cursed up a storm, ordering someone to get the fuck here now.
“What’s going on?” As one, their heads whipped around, pinning me with their glares, and I had to take a step back, the rage almost palpable.
“You shouldn’t fuckin’ be here, girl. Get back to the room and stay there,” the president shouted, the first time I’d seen the calm man raise his voice. His eyes flashed with the devil, hinting at the darkness within him and I stepped back until I hit the wall.
“No, wait.” Threads weaved between the men, his hand outstretched toward me. “You’re a nurse, right?” The men waited anxiously, and I nodded at the tall man who stepped cautiously toward me. “We could use your help.”
“Threads!” the president warned.
“She took an oath, Prez. Do No Harm, right?” Threads stated, with his eyes locked firmly on me. “The doc can’t make it, and we need her.”
The men looked as worried as I felt. As the prez rubbed at his face, his thumbs digging into his eye sockets and letting out a harsh shit.
The men waited with bated breath for the prez to say something, and they watched him, waiting for an answer. With a nod, he stalked toward me. “You say nothing about what you see here tonight. Do you get me?”
I got that he wasn’t asking me a question, it was a warning. Keep my mouth shut. “I wouldn’t say anything anyway, patient confidentiality and all that.”
A glint of something indecipherable sparked in his dark eyes, and I couldn’t imagine what would happen to someone who betrayed a man like Callahan.
The doors flew open to grunts and shouts, and the men rushed over to whoever had just rocked up.
“Get him to the couch,” was shouted out, and I stood on the edge, unable to see over the leather wall. Groans of pain preceded a yell of ‘fuck fuck fuck’. Recognizing Sly’s voice, I shoved my way through, looking at every face that surrounded him looking desperately for those bright blue eyes.
Rex stood over the injured man, blood coating his hands, his face white with worry as he looked down at his friend. “It’s ok, Brother, the doc’s gonna be here soon,” he muttered, shoving a cloth to the wound.
“What happened?” I shifted into nurse mode, the other men moving aside to let me through with ease.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” Rex growled, before twisting angrily to Cal. “What the fuck is she doing here, Prez?”
With resignation, Cal sighed. “She’s all we’ve got, Rex, the doc can’t get here until tomorrow.”
“Goddammit.” Rex scraped at his jaw, his bloodied hands leaving crimson trails along his skin. “Just… fix my brother.”
Sly lay along the sofa, bloodied towels padded along his chest. Pulling the sodden material away, I chucked them down, and pulled the leather aside. A neat hole resided in the thin cotton that was soaked with Sly’s blood, it had dripped along the floor and left a trail of scarlet in his wake.
I reared back, moving away from the groaning man. “That’s a bullet hole,” I whispered to the room. “He needs to go to a hospital.” Uncertainty warred within me, I couldn’t get involved in this. He needed to be treated properly, if something had been damaged in there… I was just a nurse, I didn’t fix bullet holes.
“He can’t go to a fucking hospital, Mia. It’d be flagged by the feds, there’d be questions and investigations, he could go to prison,” Rex snapped and grabbed my arm, pulling me toward him. His eyes filled with worry, fear for his friend tangible. His hand gentled on me, his thumb stroking the skin of my inner arm. “Please,” he whispered, pleading with me to help.
“Jesus,” I mumbled, grabbing antiseptic wash and scrubbing my hands, before rifling through the boxes of supplies, digging out everything I needed. “You fucking skotinyaki are going to get me fired.” Pulling on the latex gloves, I moved over to the patient, sitting on the edge to better see what I was working with. “OK, Sly. This is going to hurt but I need to see if the bullet is still inside you.”
He grunted through clenched teeth and squeezed his eyes shut as I tenderly prodded the open wound, and turned his shoulder to see behind him. “It’s a through and through, which is good, it means the bullet isn’t lodged inside him and I don’t need to dig it out. You’re lucky it wasn’t a bigger gun, the exit wound is minimal, but there’s a lot of blood loss, he’ll need a transfusion once I stitch him up.” I cut the shirt away, the little medical scissors sharp enough to rend the material and I pushed it aside to see the small dark hole that leaked his life blood. “What’s his blood type?”
There was silence, not one person made a sound as they looked at each other in confusion. “You mean you all practically live together, eat together, and fuck women together but you don’t know each other’s blood types?” They shrugged in unison, mumbling excuses. “Sly… Sly?” I slapped at his cheek, taking his attention from the pain that ate away at him. “What’s your blood type?”
His pain-filled eyes cracked open, delirious with the blood loss and agony that he must be feeling. “Dunno.”
“Brilliant,” I said sarcastically, turning to the men who stood around and watched me try and save their friend. “I need O-Negative blood. Please God tell me one of you at least knows that?”
“I’m O-Neg.” Threads shuffled forward, rolling up his sleeve to reveal scarred pale arms, his eyes downcast with a shame for revealing the healed slashes across his wrists. “Where do you want me?”
“Just wait there for now, I need to stitch him up first. Gauge, get me boiled water and fresh towels.” I turned to my patient, luckily he was out cold, because this next part was going to hurt.
The first aid kits were equipped with everything I’d need to perform minor surgeries. The lidocaine was perfect to numb the area while I stitched him up and hopefully gave Sly a small amount of peace.
Silently, I worked on the unconscious man, praying to God that the bullet hadn’t hit something vital that I missed, and that stitching him up now was not all for nothing.
“Mia?” Millie’s hushed voice came from the entryway, her petite frame outfitted in a large nightie dotted with flowers. I ignored her in favor of keeping my stitches neat and precise, but I was aware of Kannon moving toward her and ushering her back to the bedroom.
Finally, wiping sweat from my brow, I lifted my aching head, my neck creaking as I moved from my awkward bent position. My fingers cramped from stitching Sly up, which had taken ages trying to ensure the scarring was minimal.
“Do you need me now?” Threads stood to one side, standing sentinel over his fallen friend, his sleeve still rolled up and waiting for me. Grabbing an antiseptic wipe, I rubbed along his arm, cleaning the area before prompting him to get comfortable.
“You’ll be here a little while, it takes about 2 hours, so I don’t want you sitting on one of them hard seats.” He dragged something over, took a seat, stiff backed and stoic, his arm ready and in position.
“There’ll just be a sharp scratch, sorry about this.” Prepping the needle, I stood beside him, staring at the pale white scars that lined his inner arm—cutting marks.
“Pain doesn’t bother me,” he muttered, staring at the ground.
He didn’t flinch or make a move as I hooked him up to Sly, watching the trail of scarlet flow through the IV and provide Sly what he lost so much of. He would be fine, he would live, and he’d owe a debt of gratitude to Threads, a man whose past was as dark as the night.
The clock ticked by. Some of the brothers trailed off, hitting their beds as there was nothing they could do here while Sly slept. Threads still sat alongside Sly, in the armchair shoved over to be convenient, the IV still pushing his beautiful universal blood supply to the man who so desperately needed it. Taking a deep breath, I pulled off my gloves and chucked them in the pile of red towels, needing so badly to take a shower and close my eyes. But I had a patient relying on me, so unfortunately, I wouldn’t be getting any shut eye yet.
The bitter smell of coffee perfumed the air with its perfection, and I sniffed gratefully as Rex handed me a steaming mug of creamy goodness.
“You remembered,” I muttered, taking a sip.
“I remembered you like some coffee with your hot milk,” he replied, sitting opposite me on the edge of the coffee table, his hands gripping his own brew.
“Thank you,” Rex whispered, taking his eyes across the white gauze that wrapped around his shoulder, “for saving him.”
“Well, I may have saved his life, but we won’t know the extent of the damage for a while,” I started, telling him my worries as I’d patched him up. “The bullet exited his scapula—or his shoulder blade for the less medically inclined,” I explained. “He’ll need extensive physical therapy to gain full mobility, if he even gets the full use of it back… I’m not sure.”
“Will he be able to ride?” My chest squeezed at the stark look of worry on his face. “He won’t survive if he can’t ride.”
“I’m sure he’ll be fine, Sly is young and healthy… strong.” I reached over and grasped his free hand, the uncertainty rolled off my tongue. I didn’t want to lie to him and say he would make a full recovery and gain the full use of his arm again. But I couldn’t give him the truth either, not with how anxious he looked worrying about his friend. The truth was, he might never be able to lift his arm again, what that meant for riding a bike… I had no idea.
But until we knew anything for sure, I would keep my thoughts to myself. Because Rex and the other men had enough to worry about at the moment.
Tonight had been linked to Margot. And if I had to hazard a guess, the same people who murdered a little old lady tried to take out the Street Kings, injuring Sly in the process.
“You’re close,” I said, shaking off my worrisome thoughts.
“We’re brothers.” He sipped at the hot drink, his eyes fixed on the rise and fall of Sly’s chest. “Not by blood, but in every way that counts. We prospected at the same time, got sworn in at the same time too. We did everything together… still do.”
His gaze turned inward as he recalled times the two of them had got into trouble together. Pranks and chaos and problems that two teenage boys had thought was hilarious at the time. “Surprised more daddies didn’t chase us out of town with shotguns.” He smirked before the smile fell from his face and the light left his eyes.
“They tried to kill my brother tonight. They put a bullet in him and I have to live with the fact that I couldn’t stop it. What if… what if he can’t use his arm… what if…”
“There’s no use in thinking the shoulda, woulda, couldas. Sly’s alive, you got him home, that’s all that counts.” His head dropped forward, a loose tendril falling free from his bun and brushing against his jaw. My fingers twitched with the urge to brush it off his face, to touch him and ease some misplaced guilt that rode his shoulders.
“You should get some rest, princess,” Rex said quietly, his eyes soft with tenderness as he raked his eyes over me. “I can watch Sly from here, and I’ll get you when he wakes up.”
At that moment, a yawn cracked me wide open, taking me by surprise, the fatigue weighing down on me from the day’s stress.
“Go on,” Rex encouraged, squeezing my hand the same way I’d offered comfort to him before. “I’ll keep watch over your patient.”
Dragging myself to my feet, I shuffled to the hallway, intent on crashing as soon as I hit the pillow. I wanted to sit with Rex, the urge to stay by his side was almost overwhelming my common sense. But I knew I wouldn’t be much help to Sly in my tired state. My eyes were starting to blur, and I wanted to yawn after every sentence—I was almost dead on my feet. So with one final glance at my biker, I walked out and gave no more thought to the men standing guard over their fallen brother.
Slipping into Rex’s empty room, I changed into my pajamas and scrubbed my teeth, before dropping face down on the bed and scrabbling beneath the covers to keep warm.
The problem was, my body was tired, but my mind was on overdrive, wired from the makeshift surgery and adrenalin of the evening.
In times like these, I’d have BOB to help me through it, to help me relax and get me off to dreamland. Unfortunately, I didn’t have my little friend with me, it wasn’t something you’d think to pack when rushing off to another country to help your sister. In hindsight, it should have been the first thing I packed, especially with the amount of stress this trip was causing me.
Part of that stress had to do with a big blue-eyed trouble maker. Rex was making it extremely hard to stay on track and focus on my reason for being here in the first place.
I’d never been ruled by my body, and now I felt like a hormonal teenage girl every time his gaze landed on mine. His scent was intoxicating, and being around him was a danger to my senses.
The familiar rush of warmth hit my core as I lay in his bed, his presence wrapping around me as I slipped my hand beneath the band of my shorts. My fingers brushing against my soft curls had my heartbeat picking up tempo, imagining Rex’s hand doing the touching.
I envisioned him earlier, looming over me, the brush of his lips on my forehead… and my hand slipped lower, lower to dip into the wetness, then brought my middle finger up to rub against my clit. Gasping aloud, I bit down on my bottom lip, pulling it between my teeth as I circled the tight nub, sending sparks of lightning shooting through my entire body. I closed my eyes and gave up to the sensations. Rex was the main character in my fantasies as I worked myself up, the ultimate ending getting closer and closer…