Page 15 of Ash

“What the fuck happened?” King roared at the brothers.

“Matteo è proprio un cagacazzo,”Rafa snapped.

Ink raised an eyebrow at his cousin. “Gielo dirai, stronzo?”

“Tell me what?” King seethed.

Blaze’s phone rang, and he answered immediately. “Where the fuck are you? Fucking hell. Ink’s been shot. I don’t know. Yeah. No, go and help Flint. Yeah. Call me when you’re on your way.”

“Motherfucker,” he swore as he shoved his phone back into his pocket. “There was a fucking shoot-out on the south side of town. They’re bringing in over twenty stupid punks, at least half are critical. They called Flint in to help.”

“Don’t Tomcat or Fallon have medical training from the Navy?” Rafa asked.

“Combat medicine maybe,” King answered as he put gauze over the wound to stanch the bleeding. “But they spent most of their time in the air.”

Rafa glanced at Dacio. “How long would it take to get Doc Franklin out here?”

Dacio shook his head. “He’s got his hands full with our injured men. I don’t think he can get here any time soon.”

“Well, somebody needs to fix my damn thigh!” Ink shouted, then groaned when the movement caused his leg to jerk. “Shit!”

“Let’s check the damage level,” I suggested, an idea forming. Rafa and I moved Ink as carefully as we could, turning him just enough for me to look over the back of his leg.

“Son of a bitch, that hurts!”

“Stop being such a baby,” I grunted. “I was shot in the shoulder and didn’t whine this much about it.”

Ink shot me a scathing glare. “You had a damn flesh wound. A few inches higher, and I’d be singing soprano!”

Okay, he had me there.Still… “Flint had to dig the slug out, motherfucker,” I muttered. “You can whine when he’s got a scalpel playing hide-and-seek with a bullet.”

Ink flinched, then groaned when we turned him back over.

“There’s an exit wound, so he probably won’t need surgery.” I glanced at my watch and saw that it was after three. “I could call Nora,” I proposed, looking at King.

He stared at me, thinking over my suggestion. This was club business…and apparently mafia-related. We didn’t tell our women much about club business, but more importantly, Nora wasn’t my old lady.

Yet.

“Do I need to have a vest sent out for stitching?” he asked, referring to the stash of female vests we kept on hand. We sent one out to have our name embroidered on the property patch when we were ready to give it to a woman.

“Absolutely,” I answered immediately, without a shred of doubt in my voice.

King nodded. “Call her.”

I pivoted on my heel to leave the room as I reached into my pocket for my phone again.

Nora picked up after a couple of rings. “Hi,” she said softly.

Her voice washed over me, causing warmth to spread through my chest and streaks of lust to shoot to my groin.

I fucking hated that I was calling her to ask a favor. One that could blow up her plans for the future. But she was really our only option outside of the club or Rafa’s organization.

“Hey, baby girl. Before I get to why I’m calling, I want you to know that I’ve missed you all fucking day.”

Nora sighed, her happiness at my admission clear in her tone. “You just saw me last night,” she giggled.

“Yeah, a whole night and morning without seeing you, kissing you…I don’t like it,” I confessed. I was surprised at how easy that had been to say.

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