Crash & Carnage by Emma Slate

Chapter 19

“Joey hassomething he wants to tell you,” Mrs. Fosco said with a smile at her ten-year-old son.

I looked at the adorable boy with brown hair and freckles splattered across his cheeks who was leaning back against his hospital bed, looking embarrassed.

“I’m sorry I threw up on you.” His tone was contrite.

It took all my effort not to laugh at his sincerity. “Thank you for your apology, but I understand why you did. In fact, you are not the first boy to throw up on me because of his appendix.”

His eyes widened. “Really?”

I nodded.

“Who else threw up on you?” Joey asked in excitement.

“My boyfriend,” I said before I could stop myself. I didn’t even stutter over the word.

“You have a boyfriend?” Joey asked.

“I do,” I admitted.

Joey flashed a toothy grin. “He’s really lucky.”

“Why,” I asked with a smile.

“Because you’re really pretty and smart.”

I looked at his mother. “You’re going to have your hands full.”

She snorted. “Tell me about it.”

“Did you save my appendix?” Joey asked, switching easily from one topic to another. “I want to take it to school and show all my friends.”

Kids were fascinated with the most gruesome things. I looked at his mother for help.

Mrs. Fosco instantly jumped to my aid. “That’s not appropriate, honey.”

“What about my scar?” Joey pressed. “Can I show them my scar?”

I threw Mrs. Fosco a sympathetic smile and then hastily retreated.

I checked in on a few more patients and wrapped up my long shift. When I went into the locker room, Peyton was shrugging into her sweater. “Drink?” she asked.

“Yes, please. Like right now. I need it. I got puked on again today. It was this really cute kid, but puke is puke.”

“I heard,” she said in amusement. “I’ll buy the first round.”

“I’m so glad I’m off the next few days.” I slid into my clothes and grabbed my purse, and then we headed to the elevators.

“Careful, it sounds like you’re starting to enjoy your free time.”

“Am I a fan of the erratic scheduling? No. But I’m digging the idea of several days off. It’s almost like a mini vacation.”

“We need those every now and again,” Peyton assured me. “Emily’s meeting us over there in a bit. She said to order her a vodka soda.”

“She wants it ready and waiting,” I said with a laugh.

The elevator doors opened into the lobby, and we stepped out. I dug around in my purse, looking for a piece of gum.

“Linden,” Peyton said.

“Hmm?”

“Linden,” she said again.

“What?” I looked up at her and then glanced in the direction where she was staring.

Zip stood in the lobby, hands clenched by his sides. He was in a pair of dark jeans and a skin-tight black shirt that showed off his muscled arms and chest. His leather cut was boldly on display, and he caught more than a few stares. His blue eyes were stony, and there wasn’t a trace of his usual good humor.

He appeared formidable, even more so when he stalked toward me. “I need to speak with you. Alone.” Zip looked at Peyton.

“I’ll see you at Tony’s,” Peyton said to me.

I nodded.

Zip watched her walk out of the lobby and when he was sure we were alone, he took my elbow and guided me to the corner.

“What is it?”

“Boxer,” he said, pitching his voice low. “He’s been shot.”

All the blood froze in my body, and then my mind suddenly snapped into doctor mode.

“Where?”

“Arm. Bullet’s still in there.”

“Why didn’t you take him to a hospital?” I demanded.

“Gun shots have to be reported. And it wasn’t bad enough for the ER. The bleeding’s under control.”

Boxer and the Blue Angels were criminals. It would’ve invited questions.

“Clubhouse?” I asked.

Zip nodded.

“I’ll meet you there.” I turned to head back to the elevators.

Zip’s hand on my arm stopped me. “Where the hell do you think you’re going?”

“He’s injured,” I hissed. “I need supplies to tend to him. Things I don’t just have on hand.”

“We’ve got all that covered. Let’s go. I’m driving.”

“What? No, I need—”

“Linden, this isn’t our first rodeo. We have everything you’ll need to patch him up. Now, let’s go.”

“Okay, but drive fast.”

“Woman,” Zip stated, “fast is my middle name.”

* * *

The prospects saw us coming and opened the gates to the clubhouse. Zip parked the SUV in the gravel lot, but before he’d even cut the engine, I was out of the car, my purse in my hand.

Reap and a familiar-looking man were standing on the front porch. The stranger with rakish curls falling across his forehead leaned against the railing and took a swig from the liquor bottle he was holding. He was dressed in all black, but he didn’t wear a leather cut and I saw no ink on his skin. He didn’t look to be a Blue Angel.

A flash of recognition kindled in my brain.

Ramsey Buchanan.

Reap placed a cigarette between his lips and lit it with a classic flip-top Zippo lighter.

“Smoking can kill you,” I said in way of greeting.

“If something else doesn’t kill me first,” he said. He threw an arm around my shoulder and gave me a brief hug. “Thanks for coming.”

“Where is he?”

“Inside with Colt and Gray,” Reap replied.

I walked into the clubhouse, steeling myself for what I was about to see.

Boxer sat on a stool, looking woozy. Gray had his hand on Boxer’s shoulder to steady him. Colt stood on the other side pressing gauze to Boxer’s arm.

Torque and a few others sat quietly in the living room, watching me with somber gazes.

I set my purse on the counter and then went to Boxer. Not caring that we had an audience, I stroked a hand down his stubbly cheek to his jaw. “What did you do to yourself?” I asked.

“He tried to be a hero,” Colt replied gruffly. “He’s lucky this was in his arm… I got most of the bleeding under control, but you’re gonna need to take a look.”

“You’re here,” Boxer said, his eyes glazed with pain as they met mine. He exhaled, and I smelled the liquor fumes on his breath.

I smiled gently. “Yeah, I’m here.”

“Took you long enough. I’ve been drinking for the better part of two hours.”

“Yeah, well, maybe next time you should date a doctor a little bit closer to you so she can patch you up in no time,” I said, trying to keep my tone light.

“Don’t want another doctor,” he muttered.

The bikers had pulled a table next to the stool, and it was littered with all the supplies I could possibly need to repair a gunshot or knife wound. “Where the hell did you guys get all this?”

“It’s better that you don’t know,” Colt said.

“All right then,” I said. “Okay. I need better light in here. Get me some lamps.”

“Got it, Doc,” a biker said, jumping up off the couch.

I turned my attention back to Boxer.

“What the hell am I going to do with you?” I whispered.

“Kiss me. And then sew me up.”

I assessed the damage. The bullet wasn’t deep, but I would’ve liked an X-ray to tell me if it had hit bone—and I wished I had a sterile environment, but this would have to do.

“Liquor is not advisable under the circumstances,” I said.

His reply was to lift the bottle and drink.

I sighed. “Fine. Do you want to hear about the kid who puked on me tonight?” Without waiting for a reply, I launched into the story about Joey while I dug the bullet out of Boxer’s body.

He grimaced but didn’t complain. “Another contender? Why am I not surprised? Fuck, woman, hurry up and grab the damn thing.”

I extracted the bullet and dumped it into a small metal bowl. I cleaned the wound. “Joey was pretty charming,” I continued on, “and he had adorable freckles.”

Ramsey came in from the porch, carrying a bottle of liquor. He sat down on the couch and drank.

I grabbed the thread and needle and sewed Boxer’s flesh back together.

He swayed slightly on the stool when the needle pierced his skin. Colt had remained on the other side, and his hand shot out to steady him.

I finished the last stitch and then snipped the end of the thread. “The stitches are done. I need to give you a tetanus shot and some antibiotics, and then I’m putting you to bed.”

He lifted the bottle of bourbon to his lips and took another sip. I wanted to pull the booze away from him, but I wouldn’t embarrass him in front of his brothers.

“Thanks for your help, Colt,” I said.

“My pleasure, Doc. Thanks for coming. It means…it means a lot.”

His brown eyes delved into mine and held my stare.

Something unspoken moved between us.

I quickly injected Boxer with antibiotics and a tetanus shot, and then removed my gloves, tossing them onto the table. “Okay, champ. Let’s get you upstairs.”

We got to the second floor, and then I opened the door to his room. I flipped on the main light and then stepped aside. He walked in and plopped down onto the bed. I knelt to help him with his boots; they were heavy and hit the wooden floor with a thud. I went for his belt next and eased off his jeans. He laid down on his back, and I tugged the covers up over him.

Boxer stared at the ceiling for a moment before looking at me. “You came.”

“Of course, I came.”

I swallowed. The terror of hearing that he’d been shot still lived in my throat. I needed something strong to wash it down.

“We don’t involve our women in club business.”

“So you’ve already told me.” I went to leave. “Rest, Boxer. I’ll be back later to check on you.”

“Wait,” he said. “Just wait. We don’t involve our women in club business, but you’re different, Linden. I talked to the club. For various reasons, they’re okay if I let you in.”

I stopped with my hand on the doorknob. “Why? Because I’m a doctor?”

“Yeah.” He looked back up to the ceiling. “It isn’t fair to ask you to come here like this and put your entire career on the line without telling you what’s going on, and we’re probably gonna need you again. Now, will you sit here and listen to me?”

After a brief pause, I let go of the handle and headed back to the bed to sit on the end of it.

“I still can’t tell you everything. Not because I don’t think you can handle it. Actually, I’m starting to think you can handle anything I throw at you.” He smiled, but it wasn’t in humor. “There are still some things you’re better off not knowing. Certain details that might not sit well with you…emotionally.”

“I get it, now spill.”

He nodded. “We’re not heroes. We’re criminals.” Boxer paused. “But even we have lines in the sand. Even we have hills we’re willing to die on. People we’re willing to die for.”

My heart drummed in my ears, and my hands turned clammy. I wasn’t sure I was ready to hear the truth. I wasn’t sure I was ready not to.

“We had a tip off about a van heading for the Mexican border. The info was from a solid source, so we intercepted it. There were five women of various ages, bound and gagged in the back. While we were trying to untie them, the driver and passenger from the van fought their way free and ran into the brush. They circled back around, and I took a bullet.”

He paused, gauging my reaction.

I exhaled slowly, trying to process everything he was saying. It was a lot, but he wasn’t done yet.

After a moment, he went on. “ We put them down, and then examined them. They were both marked with cartel ink. This is as serious as it gets. We just fucked up a shipment of human cargo for a cartel and nuked two of their guys. Do you understand, Linden?”

“Human trafficking,” I murmured.

“Yeah.”

I suddenly felt detached from my own body. My head and my heart severed from one another. “Where did they come from? The women?”

“We don’t know exactly. This is as bad as you’re imagining right now. They were abducted. If we hadn’t gotten to them, then—”

“Where are the women now?” I asked, my voice soft.

“Acid dropped the van off at the ER entrance of Dallas Methodist and then had Crow pick him up a couple of blocks away. Gloves while driving the van, hooded masks, and sunglasses for the cameras and plate covers for the bikes, plus they took the back roads.”

“Why didn’t he stay with them?” I asked before I could stop myself.

“How the fuck would he explain that? Bikers rescuing kidnapped women and having a shootout with their abductors? We’re supposed to stick around after we dropped them off at a hospital for the police to ask questions? Come on, you’re smarter than that. The fact that we got to them before they crossed the border is a miracle. Their families, the hospital, and the police have to do the rest.”

He fell silent, his eyes still on me, but they were struggling to remain open.

My curiosity hadn’t abated. I wasn’t done trying to piece it all together, and my mind raced with emotion and fear. “Why did you drop them off in Dallas? Why not Waco?”

“They were closer to Dallas. Besides, there’s less of a chance they link us to this because we dropped them off in Dallas.”

“And Zip was in Dallas already,” I guessed. “Which is why he was able to pick me up quickly.”

“Yeah.”

“What happened the other night? Was it something like this?”

Boxer was quiet for so long I was sure he wouldn’t answer, but he finally replied. “That night, we found children.” His gray eyes met mine, bright with anger. “We rescued three, but we were too late to save one of them.”