Page 24 of Bride for the Bikers

“Hold Outlaw.” I make sure Thunder's got him, then jam the door closed with the back of a chair shoved under the handle. Safe, for now. Or maybe trapped, but it’s a chance we gotta take.

Harper’s eyes are fixed on Outlaw, her face white as a sheet. “He got shot. He’s bleeding,” she whispers.

“Yeah, baby. That happens sometimes when people point a gun at you. Why don’t you look around and see if there are any supplies in here. Anything that might be useful.”

My heart fucking bleeds for her. The first time you see someone get stabbed or shot is a real fucking head game. Humans are only born with so many holes, and we like to keep it that way. There’s something really fucking disturbing about coming face to face with the reality that under all the fancy clothes, we’re just sacks of blood and guts.

She nods. Having something to focus on will keep her brain from spinning in place and panicking.

“Lemme clear off that table,” Shadow says, already sweeping the random coffee mugs and debris straight onto the floor.

With a heave, Thunder and I get Outlaw in place. He snaps out a pained “Fuck!” through clenched teeth, so at least he's still conscious. That's something.

“Hang in there, brother,” I tell him.

Shadow pushes Outlaw’s jacket open and starts carefully pulling up the blood soaked shirt. He and Thunder roll him gently to check for an exit wound. It’s there, so at least it didn’t stay inside, scrambling his guts, but I can’t tell the angle it went through him.

“Call Doc,” Thunder snaps.

I'm already on it. Twins think alike. It takes way too fucking long for the number to start ringing. “Come the fuck on,” I hiss like it'll make it go any faster. God knows how much fucking time we have.

“Yeah?” Doc's grouchy voice is like fucking music. Off-key maybe, but sweet all the same.

“Thank fuck. Outlaw's down, bullet through his right side, back to front. He's awake and bleeding hard. Walk us through it.”

“Get the wound clear and his knees up. I’ll call back on video.” Doc hangs up.

Harper comes over with a roll of heavy duty paper toweling and a six pack of store brand bottled water. She also found a small first aid kit. “Here. I don’t think the bandages are big enough to help, but there’s some antiseptic. It’s better than nothing, right?”

“Abso-fucking-lutely,” I say with a grin, putting a hand on the back of her neck and pulling her in for a quick, grateful kiss. She gapes at me in shock as the video call starts ringing.

“Yeah, good. Clean it up,” Doc orders. “How fast can you get back to the compound?”

“Not happening. We’re in Vegas.”

“Vegas? For fuck's sake. Outlaw, if you're gonna get into trouble, at least do it at home. Fine.” He follows along as we do our best to get the blood off so we can see what’s going on, telling us where and what to feel for.

“It’s not bleeding as much. That’s a good sign, right?” Thunder asks.

Outlaw’s face contorts and he flips Thunder off.

Doc barks a curt laugh. “Or a very bad sign, but he’s still breathing and pissed off, so that’s a point on the right side of the equation. If you’re calling me, I’m guessing 911 isn’t an option.”

Shadow looks over at the camera. “Not a good one.”

“Of course it isn’t. It looks like he got lucky, but how the fuck would I know from here? Watch him like a hawk. It’s a good thing he’s a lean fucker. Keep his legs bent to take pressure off his abdomen and if you see any sign of bloating or he starts throwing up, I don’t fucking care where you are, you drops his ass off at the ER. Let him drink, but no food. If he’s still breathing in the morning, infection could still be a problem but there’s probably nothing worse happening where we can’t see it. He needs to rest, and I want you to call me if anything changes. Got it?”

“Got it,” I say, and hang up.

“Le—” Outlaw winces at the effort to speak. “Leave me here. You heard him. I’ll make it or not.”

Shadow rolls his eyes. “Shut up, dumbass. No one’s gonna fucking leave you here. Thunder, scout around. See if there are any tarps, Hi-Viz jackets or anything we can use to keep him warm and make this a little less fucking uncomfortable. Stay out of sight and don’t take any fucking chances.”

“On it.”

Harper is sitting off to the side, watching everything with a thousand yard stare. I walk over and crouch down in front of her. “Hey.”

“It was for me. He got shot because he stayed between me and the guards. Is he going to be okay?” she whispers.

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