I acted on instinct, diving between the girl and the executive. The blade slashed through the air and found contact. Hot pain flared across my forearm.
“Get the fuck inside!” I barked at the CEO, who didn’t hesitate. He scurried into the building like the pussy he was as I forced the girl to the ground, pinning her body to the gritty pavement. The knife skittered across the ground as police officers and TV cameras swarmed around us.
Blood poured down my arm, soaking into the sleeve and dripping down my hand. I looked at the shredded fabric and grimaced. My funeral suit was ruined.
“We got her,” a cop said, pushing me aside to cuff the woman.
I nodded. My breath was heavy, but steady. I’d taken worse. Forcing down the burn, I pressed my hand hard against the wound.
“You need stitches,” the cop said.
“Probably. Need to get my client to his goddamn meeting first, though.”
I stalked away, ignoring the cop’s insistence that I give a statement. He could find me later. I pulled my ruined jacket off and pressed it to the wound as I escorted the CEO to his boardroom. I stood guard outside the door as his shareholders streamed in. I texted Coast, and he showed up thirty minutes later.
“Sorry. Parking was a bitch. Pretty sure I’ll get a ticket,” Coast said as he strode toward the boardroom.
I shrugged. “Give it to Rhetta. She’ll cover it from the business account.”
“You’ve sprung a leak,” he said, eyeing my bloodied clothes. “You should get that looked at.”
“Yeah, heading to the hospital now. Good thing it’s only a few blocks. Don’t want blood all over my bike.”
“Going to ask for Merci?” Coast asked with a smirk.
“Fuck off,” I said automatically, though the thought had already crossed my mind.
The sterile, white walls of the Emergency Room were familiar.I’d spent way too much time here the past few months. At least this visit didn’t require surgery and an overnight stay. Still, I hoped Merci was on shift. Not that I’d admit that to Coast.
I ditched my ruined jacket in the nearest trash can as a nurse escorted me to a bed. She pressed a wad of sterile gauze into my hand, and I held it tight against the gaping wound. The pain settled from a sharp sting to a dull ache.
Merci strolled in with a tray a few minutes later. “When the nurses said we had a frequent flier in here, I assumed it was Homeless Dave. But when they started chittering about the pretty biker, I knew it had to be you.”
“When you hear ‘pretty biker,’ I’m your first thought?’ I teased.
“Don’t let it go to your head.” Her tone was sharp, but her eyes flickered with concern. “Who’s with Chaos?”
“Eva’s babysitting. She’s using her as leverage to try to talk Reaper into another dog.”
Merci snorted. “I doubt Chaos will help that case.” She slipped on rubber gloves. “Let me see the damage.”
I pulled the gauze away, and she prodded at the filleted skin. She leaned in, close enough for her magnolia shampoo to cut through the scent of antiseptic. As she cleaned the cut, her fingers brushed my arm, and a spark shot up my spine.
“I’ll do my best, but it’s probably going to fuck up the tattoo.”
“Figures,” I grunted.
Merci stitched up the wound and wrapped it in gauze. “Keep it dry. No heavy lifting. Try to avoid gunshots. You know the drill by now.”
I nodded. If I had a dollar for every stitch I’ve had over the years, I’d probably be able to buy another bike.
My phone chirped, and I pulled it from my pocket to read the message. Merci glanced over, reading it before I had the chance to darken the screen.
“Still ignoring her?” she asked quietly.
“I don’t owe her shit.” My biological mother didn’t deserve a second of my time.
“You don’t. But closure could be good for you. I’d give anything to talk to my dad again.”
