Wirth (Dirty Aces MC Book 5), Lane Hart [best ebook reader ubuntu .txt] 📗

until another woman about the same age comes busting through the door without knocking, nearly giving us all a heart attack before she takes over the duties on Hunt.

Malcolm’s sitting at the small, four-person dining table in the corner of the kitchen with a bandage on his shoulder. Joanna gave me the gauze, tape, and some antiseptic after checking the wound, and let me slap the prez back together.

Hunt’s guy, Preston, comes over, wiping the sweat from his brow a little while later. “She thinks Hunt has a concussion and that the throbbing of his headache made the side of his head bleed more. He’s going to be fine, she said, but he lost the top half of his ear.”

“Jesus,” I mutter.

“Casey!” Joanna yells from the bedroom. “I need you in here if you can leave him!”

“On my way,” the other woman calls back before she disappears.

“That’s not good,” Silas says when he takes a seat in one of the three empty chairs at the table with Malcolm. “Nash is still in there too.”

“I’ll go check on things,” I say since I can’t sit still, and pacing isn’t doing any good.

I head around the corner and down the short hall to the bedroom. Inside, Nash’s sister is sitting on the bed next to Fiasco with a tube going from her arm to his as he sleeps. Her friend Casey slowly and methodically pulls a needle and thread through the skin of his leg. Nash is just standing and watching.

“He needed blood,” Joanna looks up and says when she sees me. “I’m O positive, so I hope he’s positive and not negative. Either way he was screwed.”

“Yeah, let’s hope he’s positive,” I reply.

“Joanna didn’t see any internal damage on his side and got him stitched up there,” Nash explains. “She pulled the bullet from his leg, and Casey is closing him up.”

“Now we just have to find some antibiotics to give him to make sure he doesn’t get an infection.” Joanna places her hand on Fiasco’s forehead. “He already feels warm. Can infection start this soon?”

“Anything is possible,” Casey replies without looking up from her sewing.

With each of her new stabs, Fiasco’s face winces.

Noticing, Joanna says, “We need better pain meds too.”

Casey pauses and looks at the other woman in concern.

“He’s tough. He can take it,” Nash says. “Better to have the pain than bleed to death, right?”

“Right,” Casey agrees before she goes back to work.

“So, um, now that things have calmed down, I think it’s a good time for that long story of yours,” Joanna says to Nash.

“Oh, well, ah, where to start?” he looks to me, eyes wide in question like he expects me to know what to say here.

“Go on,” Joanna encourages him. Nash opens his mouth to say something and then shuts it again, shoulders slumping. He’s obviously not ready to tell her she’s his sister yet. So, I try to jump in and help him out.

“Nash’s girlfriend is a computer genius. We were in the area and needed medical attention for the guys but couldn’t take them to the hospital,” I explain.

Nash nods at me and then picks up the story. “So, Lucy, that’s my girlfriend, she pulled up the state’s nursing board or whatever to find someone close and there you were.”

“Huh,” Joanna mutters. “And why couldn’t you take them to the hospital exactly?”

“There was a shooting,” Nash tells her. “We were attacked at a bar and have no idea who it was yet, but we like to handle that type of thing ourselves, without getting law enforcement involved.”

“Right,” she drawls. “And bullet wounds are reported to law enforcement when they show up in the ER.”

“Yes, exactly!” Nash replies. “But we didn’t hurt anyone. Or at least, I don’t think we did. When the men barged in with masks on, some people fired back to make them retreat. We’re innocent, though.”

“Uh-huh,” Casey mutters as she clips the thread. “You all look…innocent in your little motorcycle vests.”

“Cuts,” I correct her. “They’re cuts. And we’re in a motorcycle club. That’s all they are.”

“Sure. Whatever you say,” Joanna replies as her and her friend exchange a look.

“We owe you both for helping,” Nash tells them. “Name your price and we’ll pay it; just please don’t tell anyone we were here.”

“I don’t know about Casey, but I don’t want to lose my nursing license. My mouth will remain shut.”

“Mine too,” Casey responds. “And I think…a thousand for each of us would be sufficient.”

“A thousand? That would work for me,” Joanna agrees.

“No,” Nash tells them, and I’m about to smack him for refusing their offer when he goes on to add, “Five thousand at least. For each of you. It’s the least we can do.”

“That’s very generous of you,” Joanna says when she smiles at him. It’s a flirty smile. Jesus. She has no fucking idea. Nash really should tell her that they’re biologically related.

“No, ah, what you’re doing is generous,” Nash stammers, rubbing at the back of his neck after he picks up on the same vibe. “I should go check on Malcolm and Hunt,” he tells them before escaping the room. Joanna’s eyes follow him.

Since he doesn’t want to spill the beans yet about their connection, I decide to remind her, “He has a girlfriend he’s crazy about. She’s a tiny little thing that’s vicious when she needs to be.”

“And?” Joanna says as she narrows her eyes at me in question.

“And I’m just putting that out there.”

“Like I would ever be interested in some criminal outlaw biker dude,” Joanna responds. She tries to point her finger to her chest which tugs on the tube connecting her to Fiasco, making her wince when she has to readjust the entry point in her skin. “No, thank you. I have enough problems on my own.”

“Good,” I reply. “Not that I’m glad you have problems but that you wouldn’t waste your time…Whatever. I’m going to check on the other guys,” I say so I can get the hell out of there before