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The heels of my borrowed boots pound against the concrete, but then I’m right there beside Zeke, crouching down on the ground. The first step is to asses his injuries. I grimace. There, on the side of Zeke’s abdomen, is the wound. There’s a small hole in his black t-shirt and blood is trickling, forming a small pool on the concrete underneath him. I brace myself and whisper a quick prayer. A shot to the gut is never good, but at least he’s still breathing.
I’ve got to stop the bleeding.I hesitate for a moment before slipping the silky black top over my shoulders.
I’m so sorry, Kiki and Kitty,I think, but a man’s life is on the line.I just hate that it has to be this borrowed blouse.My hands are shaking and I fumble as I fold the shirt up into a ball and press it against Zeke’s wound.
Zeke lets out a low moan and rustles slightly.
“Just be still, Zeke,” I say, immediately surprised at how soothing my voice sounds. “I’ve got this compress on your wound. You’ll be okay. Just hold still.”
I wish I could fashion some sort of tourniquet, but at least I seem to have staunched the bleeding. I look around, debating on whether or not I should scream out for help. It could draw the enemy closer, but I’m worried Zeke will die if we don’t call for an ambulance.
Zeke’s eyelids flutter before opening and staring up at me.
“Goldie,” Zeke whispers, a small smile spreading across his lips.
“Yes, Zeke. Stay with me,” I say, gazing down at his eyes that are as blue as the Southern sky. “I’m here.”
I’m still pressing down my makeshift dressing on the wound, but I begin to feel a sticky warmth between my fingers. I know it is Zeke’s blood, and the horror causes my adrenaline to surge. Zeke’s eyelids flutter again and close.
“Help!” I cry out. “We need help!”
Zeke’s passed out cold, but I hear a flurry of heavy footsteps. I hold my breath, wondering if the group of bikers rounding the corner is friend or foe.
“Zeke!” A familiar voice shouts and my head swivels, turning to see who’s coming while my hands still press down.
I breathe a sigh of relief. Gunner is at the head of the pack, his square jaw fixed into his customary scowl. They come closer and Gunner’s expression seems to soften as he makes sense of the scene.
“Go get Doc!” Gunner orders, turning to a smaller man with a prospect patch on the shoulder of his vest. “Now!”
The Grim Riders have their own doctor?I think, but I forget my bewilderment asGunner looks me over, his expression incredulous. Suddenly, I remember I stripped down to use my blouse for a compress and I’m crouched here, next to a bleeding man, with my top half clad only in a bra.
Desperate times call for desperate measures,I think, lifting one eyebrow as I stare up at Gunner. I refuse to be embarrassed. My glare dares him to say anything to me, but I’m surprised to see a lusty look in his eyes instead.
Gunner shrugs off his jacket and tugs at the neck of his t-shirt, pulling it off over his head. It’s reallynotthe time, but I can’t help glance at his thick but chiseled abdomen. He’s covered with dark tattoos, but I still see the outlines of his six-pack.
“Here,” Gunner says gruffly, kneeling down beside me to offer the garment. I take it with one hand and add it to the compress on Zeke’s stomach, offering Gunner a small nod of approval.
Suddenly, the heavy metal door to the compound swings open with a bang. A biker with close cropped gray hair and small wire-rimmed glasses is barking out orders, followed by two younger bikers carrying a stretcher.
“We’ve got to get him on the stretcher, boys,” The man orders in his gravelly voice. He strides over to crouch down beside me and he’s silent as his steel-gray eyes asses the damage.
“Good,” He grunts, nodding. “You’ve been holding pressure. I’ll take over.” His weathered hands replace mine, holding the makeshift dressing against the wound.
I’m in a daze while Doc barks out orders, expertly moving Zeke from the ground to the stretcher before whisking him to the compound’s clinic. I’m still crouched on the ground when Gunner drapes his jacket over my shoulders. He gently runs his hands down the length of my arms and when he speaks, his voice is tender.
“Let’s get you inside.”
Chapter 16
Gunner
Goldie is sitting with her legs folded underneath her on the end of my long leather sofa. She’s dressed in one of my black t-shirts and when she stands up, the hem falls beneath her knees.
I grunt when I offer her a can of cold beer. Goldie looks up at me with a small smile as she accepts the drink, but her nose wrinkles in disgust after the first taste.
I roll my eyes as I plop down on the sofa beside her. She’s got to stop being so fucking cute. I can’t stand it and I don’t want to like her, but Goldie has impressed me. I’ll give her that.
“So,” Goldie begins, biting down on her lower lip. I feel a tingling between my legs, and I wonder if she knows she drives me wild.
