Page 2 of Ryder's War

“Let me guess. You were cleaning your gun, and it accidentally went off.” That was always the story when someone got shot, and nobody wanted to give up the details.

Ace’s eyes jerked back up to hers. “Hell no. I pulled the trigger, and there was a delayed discharge. I thought it was a misfire. When I brought the gun down to open it up, a bullet came out and hit me in the leg.”

“I see.” Tiffany could almost imagine that in her mind’s eye. Since there was a ring of truth to his tone, she let it go and continued cleaning and packing the wound.

“It burns like a bitch.”

Ace’s exasperated words tugged at her heartstrings. Since they’d do a drug screen when he hit the emergency room, however, it would not be in his best interest to have illegal pain killers in his system. That meant all she had to offer was empathy and fast transport to a doctor.

“There can be particles of burning and unburned powder embedded in your skin. Gunpowder residue can feel like burning. Because the gun was so close to your body when itdischarged, you caught a little more of it than usual this time.”

“Are you gonna stitch me up?”

“Your artery is damaged beyond my ability to repair. You really do need a good surgeon.”

Smiling up at her, Ace’s expression was more like a grimace. “I’d rather you do it. You have a nice touch.”

Ryder cuffed the injured man on the side of his head yet again. “I already told you not to get friendly with my old lady, you stupid fucker.”

Shooting Ryder a frown, Tiffany turned her attention back to Ace. “I’m a registered nurse, not a physician. I know you wouldn’t want the artery to collapse at some point in the future when you’re running for your life, now, would you?”

He groaned pitifully when she taped the wound closed over a stack of gauze. “No, ma’am, I sure wouldn’t.”

“Want me to drive you to the hospital?”

Ryder grunted as he jumped down off the table and turned to offer her a hand. “You ain’t driving him anywhere, ‘cause I don’t trust this stupid fucker any farther than I can throw him. I already called for an ambulance.”

Letting Ryder help her back down off the pool table, she didn’t object when he pulled her in for a light peck on the lips. Looking up at him, shesmiled. “You two have practically been joined at the hip lately, so I’m not buying all that BS about hating him for a minute.”

Shoving a strand of hair back out of her face, he looked into her eyes. “Don’t act like you know me, baby girl. I’m a dark, mysterious fucker. No woman knows what’s going on inside my head.”

Rolling her eyes, she pulled back. “Keep telling yourself that, handsome. Meanwhile, I’ll just keep learning all your secrets.”

“Ain’t no good can come of that, babe.”

Ace’s exasperated voice cut through their conversation. “Hey, there’s a dying man right over here. Any plan for how to deal with that problem, lovebirds?”

Stepping back, Tiffany gestured toward the door. “Go look out for the ambulance and get them in here as soon as possible. I don’t feel comfortable moving him.”

“Sure thing, babe.” Turning to face Ace, Ryder pointed at the man. “Do not touch my pretty little nurse, you filthy fucker.”

Ace immediately reached out and touched her arm with one bloody finger.

Punching the palm of one hand with his fist, Ryder turned to leave, muttering under his breath, “Can’t wait for a certain stupid fucker to get patched up so I can pound him into sawdust.”

Shooting Ace a dark look, Tiffany began tossing the bloodied bandages and ripped packages into a nearby trash can. “You sure do love to keep my man perpetually pissed off at you. Mind if I ask why you do that?”

Easing to a sitting position, he kind of shrugged. “If it weren’t for arguing with the dumb fuck, I’d have no one to talk to.”

Moving to his side and helping him to stand on his good leg, she replied, “That’s not true. I see the other club members talking to you all the time.”

“They talkatme, not to me. I’m the stupid, pathetic fucker wearing the face of a child rapist. Ryder is the only man in this club willing to look me in the face when he talks to me. How’s that for fucked up?”

Grabbing her bag, she frowned at him, remembering someone mentioning his twin brother and the drama that hung over him like a dark cloud “It’s got to be hard on you, sharing your face with someone like that. Who’s older, you or him?”

Glancing away, he grunted. “I’m three and half minutes older and a whole fucking lot less of a demented freak. Not that it matters to anyone around these parts.”

A small, timid voice sounded off from the doorway. “It matters to me.”

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