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“Rattler took care of it.”
“See you in Vegas.” Cobra ended the call and Mamba rested his head against the seat.
“I love seeing shit go up in flames,” Python said.
“Your road name should be Pyro instead of Python.” Rattler banged on the back of his seat.
“You do know how I got my road name, right?” Python shot them a smirky grin over his shoulder.
“Yeah, I know,” Rattler teased. “I’m just wondering if your sweet Virginia knows it was some skanky pass-around who gave it to you.”
“Yeah, well, she doesn’t, and it’s gonna stay that way.”
Rattler and Mamba broke up laughing and Python flipped them off from the front seat.
“If you two are done with the trash talk, drop me off at the hospital so I can check on Mandy and the baby.”
Rattler gave him a look. “You’re gonna waltz in there covered with blood?”
“Shit.” Mamba peered at the blood-stained gauze wrapped around his arm. “You think if I went to the emergency room first, they’d believe I cut my arm trimming the hedges?”
Rattler narrowed his eyes. “Doubtful, but if you’re gonna pull this off you better take off your cut.”
“Good thinking.”
“And bring me with you.”
Twenty minutes later, after letting Cobra know what they were doing, Python pulled into the emergency side of University Medical.
“Good luck.” Python gave him a thumbs up as Mamba and Rattler got out of the SUV. “Try not to get your sorry ass arrested.”
When the clerk in the emergency room saw Mamba’s blood-soaked bandage, she waved him through the double doors. A female doctor ushered them into the curtained off bays, then shoved a clipboard of forms at Mamba for him to fill out.
When she returned, she unwrapped the bloody gauze while Rattler kept her entertained with his brand of humor mixed with a little flirting. She proceeded to cleanse the wound never asking Mamba how it happened. She did inform him he needed stitches as she numbed the area while keeping up a steady stream of banter with Rattler. After she was done, she redressed the wound, gave him a tetanus shot and send him on his way.
“C’mon.” Mamba shoulder butted Rattler with his good arm. “Why don’t you let the doctor get back to work.”
“No worries.” She flashed Rattler a flirty smile. “He’s the most fun I’ve had all day.”
“See, she thinks I’m funny.”
“Funny lookin’.” Mamba rolled his eyes as he steered Rattler out of the emergency room.
“You guys are great,” the doctor called after them as they left.
Mamba pointed toward the elevator bank anxious to check on Mandy and the baby.
“You could be a little more grateful.” Rattler preened. “I had her completely charmed. She didn’t ask you one damn question about how you sliced your arm.”
“Remind me to call the Comedy Club later, or I could just give Serafina a call and tell her how you were shamelessly flirting with some pretty doctor.”
“Go ahead, she knows I gotta do certain things for my brothers, plus she knows how irresistible I am.”
The door whooshed opened and Mamba shoved Rattler onto the elevator. “I’m surprised you were able to get your head through the door.”
The two women already on the elevator shrank back giving them plenty of room. Rattler threw them a grin and they moved closer to the elevator wall. Sometimes Mamba forgot what they actually looked like to civilians. Two guys over six-feet, tatted from head to toe, in ragged jeans, and jacked muscles—Rattler wearing his Serpents cut, and Mamba with one side of his bloody T-shirt cut away and his arm wrapped in gauze. When they exited on the third floor Mamba swore he heard their sigh of relief.
“I think we scared them.” Rattler jerked his thumb to the closing elevator doors.
