“You’re hurt,” the woman says, her fingers grazing the top of my thigh. She sounds as dazed as I feel, the difference is I need to focus in order to convey the information to Saber so he can keep the other guys safe.
“Not right now, angel,” I say, gritting my teeth as she prods at the same area.
“Who are you talking to?” Saber demands. “Axel, what the hell is going on?”
“I need a cleanup crew,” I say, the pain in my thigh starting to radiate down my whole leg. “I– Angel, what’s the address?”
The woman snatches my phone, giving me a strange look. It’s almost like I’m speaking gibberish, but then she says, “No, he’s lost a lot of blood… He needs a hospital… Are you serious? I mean, whatever. I’ll do my best with what I have.”
The rest of her words get garbled as an intense rush to my head fills my ears with the sound of the ocean. All I can hear is my own labored breathing, and it’s becoming difficult to hold myself upright. Maybe I just need to rest my head for a minute, then I can help get this whole situation sorted out.
I’m not sure how long I’m lying back with my eyes closed, but the woman’s face appears in front of me once more. Her long blonde hair hangs down in my face, and those brown eyes search my face, and it dawns on me that she’s trying to take care of me.
How cute. Doesn’t she know that that’s why I’m here – to take care of her?
She’s saying something, but I don’t hear her. I’m busy trying to memorize her face and fight off the inexplicable sleepy feeling that’s threatening to drag me under. Was I this fuckin’ tired when I got here? Maybe it’s the adrenaline crash.
Maybe I’m dying.
What a funny thought. Truthfully, I always thought I’d be killed during MC activities. It might just be my time.
Then, I lock eyes with this girl, with this absolute angel of a woman, and think that maybe I’m already dead. Maybe I was already dead when I got here and this whole thing has been a pre-death hallucination. That would explain why the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever seen is tending to me.
That’s the last thought I have before my whole world goes dark.
Chapter 2
Hazel
“Hey, stay with me!” I yell, falling to my knees next to the man who rescued me.
If he’s lost consciousness, this isn’t good for him. I might be able to patch him up with the supplies I have on hand, but I don’t have any blood for a transfusion. As a former ER nurse living half an hour from the nearest hospital, I keep a healthy first aid kit on hand, but there’s only so much my collection of medical supplies can do.
I take a moment to assess the situation. He was only hit once, in his upper thigh. He’s losing a lot of blood, so there’s a chance the bullet nicked his femoral artery. If that’s the case, it might be a death sentence for him.
Like hell I’m going to let him die, though.
With all the strength I can muster, I shove my fingers into the blood-soaked hole in his jeans and pull, ripping the fabric to give myself better access. I struggle slightly, but eventually the denim gives, and I’m able to get a look at his leg. While he’s still bleeding, I don’t see the kind of gushing you’d expect from an artery being hit.
That’s good. He still has a chance. I might be able to get him put back together without having to take him to a hospital. The voice of the man on the phone still rings in my ears – no hospitals unless the MC deems them necessary.
God, I can’t believe I’m mixed up with another motorcycle club. Like the mess I’ve already found myself in isn’t enough. There isn’t time to think about that now, though. Now, I’ve got a patient in desperate need of attention right in front of me.
“Hazel, what the hell happened out here?”
I glance up momentarily as II rip my jacket from my body to shove against the wound to stop the bleeding. My dad is standing on the porch, his eyes wide as he takes in the carnage. I ignore the question because I’m pretty sure that he watched this whole thing go down from inside the house.
It’s crazy to me that he can get us into this mess, but he’s too scared to help me clean it up. That’s something for me to dwell on later. It’s a discussion that’s long overdue, but one that we’ll have once this stranger is stable.
“I need you to help me get him inside,” I say as I shove my jacket against the wound. “It’s going to take both of us to carry him up the stairs. I need to keep pressure on this.”
My dad, for his credit, nods and rushes towards us. The two of us get the man into the air, me supporting him with one hand while I’m pressing down on his thigh, and my dad cradling him, struggling under his weight. We make our way inside, straight to the dining room that we rarely use. It’s the cleanest room in the house, and by some stroke of luck, I used a disinfecting wipe on the table this morning.
“Get me my first aid kit,” I say, gripping onto the man’s wrist to find his pulse. “And the scissors. I need to get the bullet out and the hole stitched up.”
Without a word, my dad leaves the room, following my instructions. While he’s gone, I take a deep breath and focus on counting the beats of his heart. His pulse is normal, so Ican only assume that he lost consciousness due to shock and an adrenaline drop.
That’s good for him, actually. That means he’ll be out while I stitch him up. The process is painful without local anesthetics, which is something I don’t have in my first aid kit.
