Page 23 of Cocky

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It’d be a long-ass day at the office—a cramped trailer in the middle of a construction zone in the middle of summer with the AC unit on the fritz—followed by a headache at the clubhouse he’d needed to sort out, leaving Blake hot, tired, hungry, and mean.

“Hey, Prez—”

Blake snapped his hand into the air and kept his eyes trained on the exit. “If it isn’t broken, dead, or dying, I don’t want to hear about it.”

“Uh…okay.”

He didn’t know who’d been talking to him, but he heard them muttering something about having to talk to Repo and needing a bulletproof vest as they walked away.

It kind of made him feel shitty for passing the buck. On a good day, his VP was a cantankerous bastard. On a bad day…no one dared to cross his path. But since Repo and Red had shacked up and were starting a family, the old man had been a regular ray of sunshine—if sunshine was dull with a slight cloud cover. Still, it was a huge improvement from the man Blake had grown up knowing.

Needing to get home to his wife and kids, take a load off, and eat away his troubles, Blake was a man on a mission. But even his one-track mind couldn’t escape or ignore the heap of trouble that burst through his front door.

“What the fuck happened to you?” Blake demanded as his escape quickly turned into a kind of rescue mission.

“Fucking deer ran out in front of us. Didn’t have time to stop,” Moose grunted as he limped his way inside with his new girl, Angel, tucked under his wing.

Blake breathed a momentary sigh of relief, glad it hadn’t had anything to do with rival gangs or anything else untoward. It was common knowledge that Manuel Contreras was still in the area, but so far he’d been laying low and keeping a low profile. Blake wasn’t stupid enough to think he wasn’t still getting his hands dirty, but he wasn’t in the mood to kick up or reignite another turf war. Right now, all he wanted was some damn peace and quiet.

It looked like even without an active war going on, that just wasn’t in the cards.

Moose and Angel were both pretty banged up, blood and scrapes and debris everywhere, looking like they’d just walked off the set of a Quentin Tarantino movie. They needed showers and new clothes—the whole lot.

Like his nickname implied, Blake was quick to action, tucking his shoulder under Angel’s other side and helping his brother carry her over to a table and ease her down into one of the chairs. He would have preferred she be on something soft, but the couches sanitary state were questionable at best.

To Ginger, who stood watching with worry from the bar, he said, “Call the doc. Tell her to get here, pronto.”

“Already on it,” she replied, the house phone already pressed against her ear.

“Don’t need all that fussin’ about,” Moose said as he sat down with a wince and a grunt, holding his hand against his side as if in pain. “We’ll be fine. Nothing but superficial stuff.”

“Speak for yourself,” Angel whined. “I think I broke something.” She cradled her elbow against her chest, calling Blake’s attention.

Concerned, he gently grasped the injured arm’s wrist and asked, “May I?” She nodded, fear making her eyes wide and glossy, as he slowly and carefully extended her arm toward him. She winced and caught her breath, and he stopped. “Too much?”

She thought about it, then said, “No.”

So he continued until he had her arm fully extended. Then he smiled softly at her. “Good news. I don’t think it’s broken.”

“How do you know?” she asked hopefully.

“Because if it was, you’d be screaming your head off by now. At worst, maybe a hairline fracture or a sprain, but my money is on some deep bruising. We’ll wait until the doc gets here, though, to know for sure.”

“Impressive, doc,” Moose said sarcastically. “Do me next.”

“No thanks, man.” Blake got to his feet. “You know I don’t float that way.”

“Clearly not, with the way you and Gabby keep popping out kids.”

“Hey,” Blake said, shooting Moose a cocky grin, “gotta pass the time somehow.”

“Got that right,” he agreed.

Getting serious again, Blake cast Angel a concerned look. “You’re gonna be fine. Just sit tight and wait for the doc. She’ll patch you up.”

Angel nodded, a weak but grateful smile appearing.

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