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“What the hell am I going to do with you?” I whispered.

“Kiss me. And then sew me up.”

I assessed the damage. The bullet wasn’t deep, but I would’ve liked an X-ray to tell me if it had hit bone—and I wished I had a sterile environment, but this would have to do.

“Liquor is not advisable under the circumstances,” I said.

His reply was to lift the bottle and drink.

I sighed. “Fine. Do you want to hear about the kid who puked on me tonight?” Without waiting for a reply, I launched into the story about Joey while I dug the bullet out of Boxer’s body.

He grimaced but didn’t complain. “Another contender? Why am I not surprised? Fuck, woman, hurry up and grab the damn thing.”

I extracted the bullet and dumped it into a small metal bowl. I cleaned the wound. “Joey was pretty charming,” I continued on, “and he had adorable freckles.”

Ramsey came in from the porch, carrying a bottle of liquor. He sat down on the couch and drank.

I grabbed the thread and needle and sewed Boxer’s flesh back together.

He swayed slightly on the stool when the needle pierced his skin. Colt had remained on the other side, and his hand shot out to steady him.

I finished the last stitch and then snipped the end of the thread. “The stitches are done. I need to give you a tetanus shot and some antibiotics, and then I’m putting you to bed.”

He lifted the bottle of bourbon to his lips and took another sip. I wanted to pull the booze away from him, but I wouldn’t embarrass him in front of his brothers.

“Thanks for your help, Colt,” I said.

“My pleasure, Doc. Thanks for coming. It means…it means a lot.”

His brown eyes delved into mine and held my stare.

Something unspoken moved between us.

I quickly injected Boxer with antibiotics and a tetanus shot, and then removed my gloves, tossing them onto the table. “Okay, champ. Let’s get you upstairs.”

We got to the second floor, and then I opened the door to his room. I flipped on the main light and then stepped aside. He walked in and plopped down onto the bed. I knelt to help him with his boots; they were heavy and hit the wooden floor with a thud. I went for his belt next and eased off his jeans. He laid down on his back, and I tugged the covers up over him.

Boxer stared at the ceiling for a moment before looking at me. “You came.”

“Of course, I came.”

I swallowed. The terror of hearing that he’d been shot still lived in my throat. I needed something strong to wash it down.

“We don’t involve our women in club business.”

“So you’ve already told me.” I went to leave. “Rest, Boxer. I’ll be back later to check on you.”

“Wait,” he said. “Just wait. We don’t involve our women in club business, but you’re different, Linden. I talked to the club. For various reasons, they’re okay if I let you in.”

I stopped with my hand on the doorknob. “Why? Because I’m a doctor?”

“Yeah.” He looked back up to the ceiling. “It isn’t fair to ask you to come here like this and put your entire career on the line without telling you what’s going on, and we’re probably gonna need you again. Now, will you sit here and listen to me?”

After a brief pause, I let go of the handle and headed back to the bed to sit on the end of it.

“I still can’t tell you everything. Not because I don’t think you can handle it. Actually, I’m starting to think you can handle anything I throw at you.” He smiled, but it wasn’t in humor. “There are still some things you’re better off not knowing. Certain details that might not sit well with you…emotionally.”

“I get it, now spill.”

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