Page 7 of March 5

He took a step and stretched his back. There was a weakness right above his ass that hadn't been there earlier.

He limped, holding his lower back, and met Jagger at the door.

"You hurt?" Jagger frowned.

"Fucked my back up."

"How?" asked Jagger.

"Getting off the damn bike." He followed Jagger inside and took a chair at the table, slowly lowering himself to the seat. "God damnit, it feels like I'm gonna break in two."

He pushed to his feet. Sitting hurt too much.

"You're getting old." Jagger gave him a pointed look. "Wearing down."

"Still younger than you, Prez." He grunted, trying to work out the spasm.

Jagger scoffed. "Bane's coming with everyone's money for the month. Can you stick around, or do you want to get home and ice your back?"

He wasn't going to jump on his motorcycle without his muscles loosening first. "I'll wait around."

He walked the length of the table, trying to ease the pain.

Brett came inside, followed by Cord andRush. The rest of his crew had arrived.

Cord slapped Dio on the shoulder. He groaned, catching himself on the back of the chair before his leg buckled.

"What the hell happened to you?" Cord grabbed Dio by the upper arms and helped him straighten. "Did you plant your bike down?"

"Hell no." He grimaced. "I don't know what I did. My lower back all of a sudden feels weak and I have shooting pain down my leg."

"Sciatica." Cord laid his hand on Dio's back and prodded around. "That hurt?"

"No."

Cord was the closest thing to a doctor the Havlin members had. An ex-military paramedic, Cord had doctored them all at one time or another.

"Nothing I can do for you." Cord straightened. "If I were you, I'd call up Maverick's girl and pay her for a massage. Your muscles are seized up, probably pressing on your sciatic nerve."

"What caused that?" He pressed his hand against his back.

"Too many hours sitting your ass on the seat of your Harley."

"Bullshit." He stepped away. "How do I fix it?"

"Stay off your bike." Cord took the band out of his hair and shook his hair loose. "Don't sit down."

"Nothing is going to keep me off my bike," he muttered.

Bane walked out of the hallway, carrying a box. Dio tried to ignore the discomfort and paced the area. As long as he kept moving, the pain down histhigh eased.

"Dio?" said Bane.

"Yeah. Here." He limped over to the head of the table and picked up his stack of money. "Thanks."

"Go home and take care of yourself," ordered Jagger.

He walked off, determined to get home. As it was, he felt weak. Hell, maybe Jagger was right. He was getting old.

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