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I nodded. “Hangin’ in there.” I watched as his two men went into the small warehouse my club owned and began to get their crates. “How are we doing with this transfer?”
“Reapers are impressed,” he told me. “Your weapons are top-quality. Few more buys, and I think the prez will be ready to have a meeting with you.”
I nodded once. “Good.” That was what I wanted. The Reapers MC was one of the biggest players in the game. Having them in my pocket would not only keep our pockets full, but we would have protection if shit ever went down, too.
The sound of a loud engine reached my ears. I barely had time to turn before a bullet slammed into my shoulder. A roar of pain left my lips as Brian knocked me to the side, covering me as he began firing back. My ears were ringing, making it nearly impossible to hear anything. Blood pumped from the wound, soaking my flannel and my cut. Pain pulsed from the wound, and I gritted my teeth, biting back another yell.
My head was throbbing, my ears still ringing. The pain in my shoulder made it hard to fucking focus.
Brian grasped my face and roughly shook me. A moment later, he slapped me—hard as fuck—and I blinked up at him. “Come on!” he barked at me. “Get up, Blink. Get the fuck up. We’ve got to get out of here.”
“Weapons,” I muttered, staring at his two dead men by the crates. Shit, that fucking sucked. They were good guys. Loyal. I knew Brian had known them for most of his life.
“Fuck those weapons right now, brother. You’re fuckin’ bleeding out.”
I lowered my head, looking at the blood steadily pumping from my shoulder wound. “Fuck,” I muttered.
“Fuck is right,” Brian growled, hefting me to my feet. I stumbled for a second, the blood loss quickly making me dizzy. “You’ve got to ride bitch, Blink. Clubhouse or hospital?”
“Clubhouse,” I grunted. A hospital would bring too many questions and cops. I couldn’t have either. Grit was a medic in the military; he could get me patched up enough to survive.
I hoped.
I managed to snap my helmet on one-handed and slid on behind Brian. “Hold on,” Brian snapped at me. And then, he tore off the warehouse lot and sped for the clubhouse, leaving his two dead men behind. Probably only for now.
Ihopedonly for now.
“Jesus fucking Christ!” Carver roared as Brian got off the bike and helped me off. I stumbled and crashed to one knee, my vision a little hazy. Pain was throbbing through my shoulder and down my arm, and my teeth hurt from clenching them together. Blood was soaked into my clothes. I’d lost way too much and probably needed to go to the hospital, but that was a last resort and only if I was dying. I wasn’t dying yet. I knew that much.
“Help me get his ass inside,” Brian growled at Carver.
Carver came to my other side, and I barked out his name when he moved my arm to drape my arm over his shoulders. He growled at me to shut the hell up, and the two of them helped me inside. Lindsey was wiping glasses at the bar, and the moment she looked at me, the glass fell from her hands, shattering on the floor at her feet.
“Blink!” she cried out, her eyes widening in horror.
“Get her away from that mess,” I barked at Carter when he moved toward me.
He immediately changed direction and lifted Lindsey from behind the bar, depositing her a few feet away from the glass. He then pointed at Eric, who was sitting frozen at the bar, staring at me with wide, horrified eyes. “Get the broom and dustpan. Clean this shit up.”
I dropped into the chair Carver pulled out for me. Grit was immediately there, dropping his massive first-aid kit on the table. I looked at Carter and Carver. “Go with Brian to help make sure he gets the guns he came for. Clear? Follow him back home. We’ll talk when you get back.”
They both nodded. Brian looked down at me, pointing a stiff finger in my face. “You better stay alive, brother.”
I nodded at him. “Same for you.”
He walked out of the clubhouse, and Carver and Carter followed out behind him. Grit shoved my cut off before ripping my shirt so half of it fell to my lap.
“Blink…” Lindsey whispered, tears filling her eyes as she neared us, her hands shaking.
“I’m alright, darlin’,” I grunted. I closed my eyes, swallowing vomit. “Little fuckin’ dizzy. That’s all.”
“Keep your eyes open,” Grit snapped at me. I peeked one eye open so he knew I was awake. “Probably lost too much blood, but ain’t shit I can do about that.” He began prepping a syringe of numbing agents. “Lindsey, keep his ass distracted.”
“I can help,” Lindsey told him. “Please let me help.”
He looked at her. “You can help by keeping him distracted. Because if he punches me and knocks my ass out, ain’t shit I can do for him after that.”
She nodded. I patted my lap. “Come here.”
