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“Let’s go have some fun,” he whispered before dashing off deeper into the trees, knives in both hands, only wearing his boxers. Shaking my head, I took aim and fired, watching another body hit the ground. Walking over to him, I frowned, seeing the Satan’s Angels cut he wore.
These idiots weren’t just trespassers.
They were a rival club.
The same club causing the Golden Skulls trouble.
The reason Jessica and the other women were here.
Angry now, I pulled my spare gun from my hip and started firing at random. No one came to my home unannounced.
If Satan’s Angels wanted a war, then they were getting one.
A few hours later, the clubhouse was wide awake as King roared into his phone, while Claudia and Jessica tended to a few minor injuries. I was surprised to even see her, but I should have known she would come. She was always taking care of others, no matter how she felt.
The last twenty-four hours had turned into a three-ringed circus. With Granny showing and demanding I marry Claudia, Scribe’s wedding fiasco, Cameron chewing Claudia’s ass, and now this, I just wanted this crap to end.
While King furiously yelled at Sypher, I tried not to flinch when Claudia numbed my arm.
“What am I going to do with you, Frank?” she muttered, shaking her head while she reached for a surgical needle and thread. “I just cleared you for duty and now you are back on the injured list.”
“It’s just a scratch,” I mumbled.
Claudia slowly turned her head and glared at me.
I gulped, quickly shutting my mouth.
“You have a bullet hole in your arm, Frank. You’re lucky it didn’t do any damage.”
“Ouch, woman!” Scribe bellowed loudly as he girly slapped at Jessica’s hands, getting everyone’s attention.
“Then next time wear fucking shoes!”
“Frank needed my help.”
“And you thought being buck naked was helping?” Jessica shot back, before she added, “Gunner, Pyro, hold him down. I need to debride his feet.”
“Not naked, and why?” Scribe stated factually, backing up when Gunner and Pyro approached.
He was right.
He wasn’t naked.
He did have his boxer shorts on.
“Why what?” Jess snapped.
“Why can’t I just shower? Why do you need to debride?”
“First off, a shower. Really? Do you know the types of bacteria that live in regular tap water? Do you want to get sepsis? And second, I need to debride your feet because God only knows what you infected yourself with outside. But hey, if you don’t mind losing your feet, or worse, have your dick fall off before you can ever have your honeymoon, then by all means, Scribe, go take a fucking shower!” Jessica snarked while Scribe paled, quickly cupping himself.
“That can’t happen,” he gasped in disbelief.
“Oh yes, it can,” Claudia said to no one in particular while she cleaned the area around my wound. “Next time, wear fucking shoes.”
“Well, what the hell are you waiting for woman,” Scribe shouted, shoving his feet in Jessica’s face. “Clean them really good.”
Claudia smirked, then whispered so only I could hear her, “That true, Frank? Did you need help?”
