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“Are you sure we shouldn’t just wait for an ambulance or something?” I could hear the concern in his tone as I tried to focus on anything other than the blood pouring from the bullet wound. “I don’t know if you can hang on, bro.”
“Just start my bike, Gunner,” I snapped, wincing at the pain making me lightheaded. “Please.”
“Okay, okay.” The prospect rushed toward my old bike. He shoved the vests down into the saddlebag and swung a leg over. He turned the gas on and pulled the choke. “This thing is ancient. I don’t know why—”
“It was my dad’s. Just start it, come on.” My eyes could see the flashing red and blue lights heading our way, and I moved quickly, though my feet suddenly felt like cinder blocks. My stomach lurched at the feeling.
Already losing too much blood.
Gunner kept hitting the start button, but the engine wasn’t firing off, sputtering over and over. “What the hell?”
“Give it some throttle when you hit the start—but don’t flood the carb. It’s touchy.”
“You need a new bike.”
“And a new arm, probably, too. Come on.”
Gunner did as I instructed, and my motorcycle finally fired off, drowning out the sirens that I knew were seconds from approaching. I shuffled toward him, my vision going splotchy as I finally made it to him.
“Dude, you don’t look good.”
“Thanks, now help me.”
Gunner spun, steadying me as I threw a leg over, still holding onto my arm. “There’s a lot of blood on the sidewalk.”
“Cool, let’s go.” I leaned against the back of him, shutting my eyes as I gripped my arm. I was going to have to rely on my balance to while he rode.
He jumped the bike over the curb and I winced as he took off down the sidewalk, weaving back out into the street to avoid the cop cars now parking out front. Whoever had made the call must’ve not given specifics—or Sargent Johnston was on duty.
Because they didn’t seem to notice our quick departure.
“Hospital?” Gunner shouted over the roar of the motor as we sped toward the outskirts of town.
“No,” I shouted back at him, my arm now feeling like a dead brick in my lap. “Just take me to the clubhouse.”
“What?”
“The clubhouse. Just get me to the fucking clubhouse and send them the SOS,” I choked out, hoping Gunner knew what I was talking about. We kept him out of the loop about some things since he wasn’t a member yet.
But hopefully, an SOS wasn’t one of them.
I couldn’t remember at the moment.
“Got it,” Gunner shifted, the bike weaving as he dug out his phone. I continued to rest against him, fighting to keep my consciousness. “It’s sent—I’m sure they’ll have the doc over soon,” he called over his shoulder, grabbing my attention.
“One more thing after we get there.”
“What?”
“Go get Hannah.”
Chapter 13
Hannah
I stared at the still-blank computer screen.
Ugh.
