Page 4 of Reaper's Ride
“He’s not moving,” I told the dispatcher. “His eyes are closed.”
Tears stung my eyes as I dropped my gaze to his chest. A slight rise and fall confirmed he still breathed. Blood covered the dirt and asphalt as I noticed a tear in his jeans. Blood spurted from a wound in his thigh as he groaned.
“Hey! I’m right here, Pagan. Help is on the way,” I assured him as I lifted my hand and pressed down on his wound, applying pressure. I could feel the artery beneath my fingertips as I dragged air into my lungs. “Please don’t die on me,” I begged as I heard sirens in the distance.
This wasn’t how I planned to meet Pagan a second time.
Fate was an asshole.
Chapter 2 Pagan
My head was foggy as I tried to blink, groaning when I felt pressure in my head, chest, and left leg. It fucking hurt like a son of a bitch. Everything throbbed and ached like I’d just been plucked from my bike and slammed into the ground by some invisible force.
Fuck. My Harley.
My ears rang as I blinked, coughing as I tried to move.
“Hey, don’t do that,” a sexy female voice ordered. “I’ve got my fingers pressing down on your artery. I don’t want you to bleed out.”
What? Shit!
I turned my head and spotted the sexy brunette I’d met an hour earlier and helped load a heavy box into the back of her SUV. How the hell did she end up at the same intersection at the exact time I did?
A wave of nausea flooded my gut, and I leaned my head back, hoping like hell I didn’t die with her fingers pressing on my thigh. “Fuck,” I spat as my vision tunneled.
This wasn’t good. I was losing too much blood.
“My bike,” I managed to say, wondering if it was totaled. I fucking loved my Harley. I just picked it up after a custom paint job only a few months earlier. The motherfucker who hit me would pay for this.
“You’re worried about your bike?” She sounded flustered.
“What’s your name, gorgeous?” I asked, noticing my words had slurred. I was getting tired and fading fast. Exhaustion pressed in. I struggled to keep my eyes open.
“Hey!” She patted my cheek. “Stay with me, Pagan.”
The pressure on my leg increased. I ignored it as I stared into her pretty blue eyes filled with alarm. “Your name.”
“Snooki,” she blurted. “That’s so not important right now.”
“It is to me,” I argued. My eyes closed, and some of the tension and pain left my body. I felt a sharp prick in my arm.
What was happening? I wasn’t sure if I asked out loud or only thought about it.
“An IV,” Snooki explained. “You’re going to be okay, Pagan.”
That was the last thing I heard before I got pulled under into blissful, pain-free dreams. The best part? A sweet, sexy brunette with blue eyes straddled my hips and fucked me like a goddamn porn star.
Sometime later, I slowly returned to awareness. The first thing I noticed was the consistent beeping from a machine close to the bed I was resting on. Then the clean, sterile scent of a hospital room. When I tried to move, every fucking muscle in my body ached.
A groan slipped from my mouth as I blinked, struggling to open my eyes. It was dark outside. I could see through the partially open window where the blinds weren’t completely lowered. My gaze swept the room and landed on Snooki.
She leaned forward, holding my hand as I caught her worried, concerned expression. “Hey there, big guy.”
“Snooki.”
“Ah, so you do remember my name.”
“Why wouldn’t I?” I asked, tensing as my head throbbed and I closed my eyes again. Fuck. I was still exhausted.
