Soul Ties (Club Ties #4) (3 page)

She pulled away and gave her friend a smile. “I’m fine. Just wondering when I get my cut of the cash-ola.” She winked at Ever. They both knew Sarah was joking. The money in that bag had been for gambling debts owed the Hell’s Sons.

“What is it?” Ever stood back and eyed Sarah.

Was she that transparent? Her mask must be slipping.

She tossed the empty box in the bonfire and scuffed the toe of her boot against the grass. When she looked up at her friend, guilt flooded her. She couldn’t keep anything from Ever.

“Jamison turned me down for more missions.”

Ever’s red brows pinched together. “And you asked again?”

“It would be good to do more for the club than this.” She waved at the smoke that curled as the box caught fire.

Ever stared at the flames as bright as her own hair. “You’re important. You belonged to the club before I did, Sweetheart.” Her use of Sarah’s nickname wasn’t used off the cuff. Ever used it to drive her point home—Sarah
was
the Hell’s Sons.

“Yeah, but I’m accepted because of my father. If he hadn’t taken a fall for the club, would I be here?”

“Of course. You contribute so much.” Ever laid a hand on Sarah’s forearm. She let her hold it for a moment, taking comfort.

“I know what I contribute, but I’d like to do more.” Mainly because she didn’t feel she had enough power yet. O’Dovey was still trying to control her.

Ever met her gaze. She pressed her lips into a tight line before blowing out a breath. “I bet it was a rush to steal that bag. You’re the real deal. A Hell’s Son with brownie points because you can cook. Don’t you feel bad-ass now?” Ever leaned in teasingly.

Sarah slapped her lightly. “The club’s the only family I have.” The slap might be playful but her words were dead serious.

“I’m glad to hear you say that. We’ve been worried.”

She looked up in surprise. “Worried about what?”

“You’re not going to join your sister in Florida?”

Sarah’s mouth fell open. She’d never given it a thought. Cassidy had run away before she was eighteen. She’d taken up with a guy who’d urged her to get her life together before contacting Sarah or any other family member—especially one in the club that had raised her. A few months ago, Sarah had finally gotten that call.

After a tearful hello, Cassidy had told her that she was happy and doing well. Her boyfriend paid the bills while she went to college. Sarah missed the hell out of her sister and having her fears finally laid to rest after all this time was one of the most amazing moments of her life. But leave Heller’s Gap?

She shook her head, and Ever visibly deflated as some of the tension left her. “I could never leave you guys.” Jamison and Ever were family. Hell, they all were.

Ever threw her arms around her and planted a kiss on Sarah’s cheek. “Good. We weren’t the only ones worried you’d go, you know.”

Sarah hugged her friend back. “Who else?”

“O’Dovey. He put the bug in Jamie’s ear.”

Ice-cold water splashed Sarah’s system. She took a step back. “That’s…uh…unexpected.” Sometimes it scared her how well she could act. Ever didn’t even realize Sarah hated O’Dovey deep down. The words burned on her tongue, but before she could spill her secret to her best friend, Ever spoke.

“He’s crazy about you, Sweetheart.”

Crazy. Yeah, that’s true.

She forced a bright note into her voice. “Well now you know the truth. You’re stuck with me. But I’ll be out for an hour. If I don’t get to the grocery store, there will be a mutiny. Especially since our ranks are swelling.”

Ever gave her a soft smile. “You mean the doc?”

She blinked. “Doc?”

“Yeah, the new guy from the north. He’s a doctor, didn’t you know?”

No. How could she when O’Dovey had called her away from the panty-melting newcomer and wrapped her in his stronghold? She hadn’t resisted because…well, often O’Dovey was worse if she denied him, and she’d been too exhausted to fight it last night.

“I didn’t know. Interesting.” She checked that the fire wasn’t raging out of control. It would die down on its own and didn’t need doused. But the sensations inside Sarah might. The striking man whose gaze turned her to a soggy puddle of desire was also a doctor? All that delicious goodness couldn’t possibly fit into his fine, fit body. There must be a law against having muscles
and
brains.

“I’d better get to the store.” To cover her discomposure, she caught Ever’s shoulder and reeled her in for a hug. “I’ll see you later.”

“Don’t forget Ace’s birthday party. We need ingredients to make a cake.”

“Oh yeah, red velvet. I won’t forget.” As she walked away from Ever and into the clubhouse, Sarah’s mind flitted over each point of their discussion but lingered on the details of Connall West.

Doctor
Connall West.

Through the store aisles she daydreamed of having the sexy doc cure what ailed her. On the flip side, she was terrified of ever speaking to him. She had a high school diploma, and he had umpteen years of college plus medical school. Surely she’d stumble over words.

But I have better footwear.
The thought made her giggle. No wonder she’d caught him wearing Crocs—it made perfect sense now. He must have left work without changing his shoes.

His jeans sure fit him just right, though.

After lugging all the bags to the car, she checked her phone. Unlike most people, she rarely had the device on her. It was alternately left in cars, bedrooms, or on side tables. Once she’d left it on the washing machine and a club couple, Paxton and Santana, had discovered it when Santana was bent over the appliance.

While listening to her voice message, she picked at her fingernail. Ace wanted her to pick up a case of beer at the Gearhead on the way home. Typical. Her thoughts drifted back to her conversation with Ever. That led to missing Cassidy. She definitely wanted to visit her baby sis soon.

As soon as she hit the Gearhead parking lot, she sensed something was wrong. Mainly because there were bikes parked there that didn’t belong to the Hell’s Sons.

She pasted a hand to her chest, over her thumping heart. Rival bikers on Sons’ turf couldn’t end well. And they were just getting over Blake’s loss.

Steeling herself against the snake of dread coiling in her stomach, she got out of the car. Her feet crunched on gravel. On the way to the door, she caught movement.

Hunky Doctor was kneeling in the dirt, his head canted forward. As she looked on, he bracketed his nose with his hands and pulled. Blood rushed out and he leaned forward to let it spill over the mud.

Sarah pressed a quivering hand to her mouth, fighting a cry. Connall didn’t retch as she’d seen some people with broken bones do. He squeezed his eyes shut and let the blood flow freely to mingle with the Alabama dirt.

Unable to stand there another second, she rushed forward, removing her plaid overshirt as she did. “Let me help you.”

He looked up at her, surprise shuddering over his face. He winced as the expression obviously caused pain. Waving her away, he grabbed her offered shirt and held it to his nose.

“Didn’t think I’d bleed that bad.” His tone was light but thick from his broken nose.

Cupping the back of his head, she held the cloth over his nostrils. He groaned, and she thought she’d hurt him. “I’m sorry,” she said quietly.

“Not your fault.”

“Whose was it?” She was afraid to learn the truth but keeping him talking seemed the best course. She didn’t need him passing out.

His eyes were bloodshot and sympathy tears rolled down each cheek. He hadn’t shaved today and a coating of light brown hair dusted his angular jaw. Sometime today he’d also gotten some sun. He’d been riding.

With a wing and a prayer, she’d get him out of here before whoever busted his nose came to do more harm, but he didn’t seem concerned. He took the cloth from her hand, covering her fingers with his long, straight digits.

“Thank you,” he said in that muffled way.

“You didn’t answer my question. Is this the Raiders?”

He gave a small shake of his head. “Don’t you know the look of a Raiders’ bike?”

“I don’t pay attention. Now, is it?”

“No. Look, I got it. You shouldn’t be here.” He stumbled to his feet and staggered a few feet to his bike. When he popped open his saddlebag and pulled out a long-barreled pistol, shock tore through her. He was going back in.

With weapon in hand, he stalked toward the door. Sarah rushed forward. As he reached for the handle, she intercepted him.

“This is no place for a woman. Now go, Sarah.” Even with blood running down his face, he was beautiful. A god. Looking into his eyes set off fireworks in her body. Suddenly her panties were a silk blend torture device.

She sucked in a breath. “You think I’m helpless.”

“I never said that. Go back to the club. You don’t want to be here for this.”

Reaching past him, she covered his hand with hers, halting the momentum of the door. “Be here for what? Are…the rivals still inside?”

He waved the gun. “Do as I say.”

“Connall—”

He plastered his back against the door to keep her from going in. “There’s a Son shot inside.”

Her heart plummeted and her jaw dropped. “Who…is he d-dead?”

“Who—I’m not sure of his name. He works here at the bar, though.”

“Harris.” It wasn’t a question. It was total authority. She shoved him out of the way, and found she could. He was either done fighting her or she was stronger because she hadn’t lost a gallon of blood. By the looks of his white T-shirt, he had.

“I don’t think it’s Harris. Now please let me do my job. Go back to the clubhouse, Sweetheart.”

She paused. “What did you call me?”

“Sweetheart. I asked about you, okay?”

Her heart gave an odd beat, different from all the others she’d ever had her whole life. “Wait,” she cried as he stepped inside the open door.

He turned, the shadow from inside covering half his face.

“Let me assist you, at least.”

He blinked at her. Finally, he groaned. “Fine, but you better not get sick at the sight of blood.”

As if I’m not staring at it on you.

When she was led to the back room, she spotted Bones laid out on the floor. A few towels were bundled beneath his head, and his face was pasty white. Sarah’s pent-up breath burst from her and she dropped to her knees next to his head.

“Bones. You’re okay.” Her gaze skimmed his body, which was covered in blood. Connall’s bloody nose looked like a fucking scratch compared to this. More towels were pressed to Bones’ side.

“Guys, guard that door so we don’t have to worry about someone bursting in here.” Connall tipped his head to indicate they needed to protect Sarah.

Two prospects closed the door and stood with weapons ready. They stared at her.

“Clean shot, didn’t hit anything,” Connall was saying.

He took a pair of scissors from Harris. Then Connall cut Bones’ shirt. A thick weal of blood appeared on his side.

“What the hell happened in here?” she asked.

One of the Sons appeared in the doorway, looking more haggard than usual. “All clear.” Now that she concentrated, she heard the engines screaming out of the parking lot.

Sarah released a sigh in a slow trickle of air. The coppery stench of blood was thick in the air. Turning her attention to Connall again, she cupped Bones’ face and tried to distract him with a story about something mundane that had happened to a sweet butt at the club.

Connall was prodding the wound.

“You’re so pretty, Sarah,” Bones’ voice was reedy.

“Just look at me, Bones. It’s not bad.”

Connall glanced up. Sarah caught his gaze and nodded toward the wound he was meant to be dressing. Do it, she mouthed.

With his lips in an unyielding line, he returned to blotting away blood. “If it were that bad, you wouldn’t be lying here having me perform surgery. Give me some alcohol. Something strong.”

A bottle was placed in his hand and he uncapped it. Sarah lightly ran her fingers over Bones’ cheeks, creating a rasping noise when she reached his jaw. This was going to hurt like hell, and she had to take his mind off the pain.

“Remember that time you came into the club dressed in drag?”

He gave a snort of laughter. “For Haa…Halloween.”

“Yeah, but Harris was sure you wanted to be a woman. He kept trying to get you into the kitchen to make him a sandwich.” There were very few feminist views in the club. It wasn’t that men couldn’t do for themselves, but their women
liked
doing it.

Bones glared at Harris, who was wheezing with laughter. “Yeah, fucker. I told you we were out of ham.”

“You had the best rack I’ve ever seen on a man, Bones.”

Connall tipped the bottle of their strongest vodka over Bones’ side. He hissed in pain and tried to writhe away. Sarah held and soothed him with quiet words until the worst passed.

Connall poured more into the open wound. Bones bit off a scream.

“What the hell are you doing? Torturing him?” she snapped.

Connall narrowed his eyes at her. Damn, they were pretty eyes. Bright green with a darker outer ring. “Do I tell you how to do your job?” He wielded a syringe. God knew where he’d gotten it.

“Sarah’s the…best at everything she does,” Bones stuck up for her.

“Thank you, sweetie.” She stroked her thumbs over his temples, and he let his eyes close.

“What was that you gave him, Doc?” Harris’s tone sounded easier and the whole atmosphere took on a less panicked feel.

“Morphine, just like in the battlefield. He’ll be out for a bit while I stitch him.”

“I didn’t think there are edges left to even stitch,” Sarah said. The wound looked like a meatloaf.

Connall didn’t look at her, and that was worse than his annoyed stare. “He’s out. You can let go of him.”

She looked down at Bones’ face in her hands. He was white but wore no grimace of pain. “Why would I do that? It’s important for people to know they have someone there for them—someone to comfort them.”

Connall grunted and pulled a suture kit from some hidden interior pocket of his leather cut. He must have all the modern equipment of an OR in there. He probably did this all the time—patched up men to send back out to get shot again. Suddenly she was disgusted with the whole situation.