Page 6 of Pulse

“What the fuck is me looking at your throat going to do for you?” Pulse looked up from his burrito into the pitiful face of his club brother. To be fair, Jinx’s eyes were puffy, his skin paler than its usual deep tan, and his nose was raw from frequent tissue use. Even a layperson could recognize that he felt like garbage.

Jinx’s hulking body dropped onto a barstool next to Pulse. He frowned. “What do you mean?”

Shrugging, Pulse pressed his lips together to keep from laughing at the huge guy who never failed to act like an oversized child when he was sick. Men everywhere balked at the termman flu, but then Jinx went and proved all their irritated significant others right. “I mean, I won’t be able to tell you shit by looking at your throat. If you think you’re sick, go see a doctor.”

Horror transformed Jinx’s expression from sullen to indignant in a second. “A doctor? Fuck no. I’d rather die of tonsilitis or whatever the fuck I have.”

Pulse snorted. “You’re not going to die. You’re just being a baby.”

“Puulse…” The whine was back and as pathetic as ever.

“He might die,” Spec called from across the room. “If he doesn’t stop pissing and moaning, I’ll have no choice but to killhim.” He disappeared into the kitchen with a case of beer on his shoulder.

“Come on, man, you’re a medical professional. Help me out. Think of the mess if Spec kills me. You know that fucker doesn’t ever do it neat and tidy.”

Pulse stared at him. “I’m a trauma and ER nurse.”

Jinx sniffed, and it sounded like he was working his hardest to keep a gallon of snot from pouring out of his nose. “And?”

A huff came from across the room. “Oh my God, Jinx. Are you harassing Pulse after I told you to leave the poor guy alone?” Harper sidled up to her ol’ man, folded her arms over her chest, and glared. “Sorry, Pulse. I tried to spare you from his serious case of the grumpies.”

Chuckling, he stood and greeted Harper with a kiss on her smooth cheek. “Don’t worry about it, sweetheart. Comes with the territory.” That was true. As the club’s solo medical professional, his brothers asked him for advice on everything from hangnails to bullet wounds. He preferred the latter and tolerated the former.

Sometimes.

“Why you so nice to her and so mean to me?” Jinx grumbled as he snaked an arm around Harper’s waist and pulled her onto his lap.

“Because she’s so much better-looking than you are.”

“Can’t argue with you there,” Jinx said, leaning in for a kiss.

“Oh, no.” Harper arched away from his searching lips. “Do not bring that germy mouth anywhere near me until you are feeling better. The shelter opens tomorrow, and I cannot be sick.”

Jinx pouted. “Baby…”

“Look, brother, if you’re feeling like shit, go home, take some cold medicine, and sleep it off. That’s all anyone would tell you to do right now. That and drink lots of fluids.”

Jinx lifted his near-empty tumbler of whisky. “Working on that one.”

“Not what I meant.”

“Tried that,” Harper muttered while Jinx said, “I can’t leave. We’re having a party,” as though missing so much as five minutes of fun was unfathomable.

Spec stuck his head out from the kitchen. “Fire’s roaring, and drinks are flowing. Come on out, you three.”

Instead of taking the sound advice of resting and drinking something besides alcohol, Jinx gathered Harper in his arms and hopped to his feet. “Let’s go, baby,” he shouted before sneezing so loud the damn clubhouse shook.

“Oh my God,” Harper shrieked. “You sneezed on me, you big ogre. Put me down!”

Pulse shook his head. This place was a madhouse on a good day. Throw in a celebration, and the chaos ramped tenfold.

But they were the only family he had.

A family he sometimes felt like an outsider around but still valued above anything else in his life. The occasional discomfort was his fault. He had secrets he could never divulge and thick scars that prevented him from letting people get too close—even his brothers, who he’d kill and die for. The same went for their ol’ ladies.

Now that every damn man in the club had coupled up, he was even more of the black sheep. But it was all right. He was safe there and had the brotherhood he’d craved since the day he left his life as an undercover Del Rios Cartel member.

How fucked up was that?

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