Renegade (Southern Rebels MC Book 4)

by Kristin Coley

  Chapter Ten

  Diane

  “Finally,” I sighed as his eyes slipped closed and I started to dig into the wound in his shoulder, searching for the bullet. My finger grazed it, but it slipped away and I muttered, “Shit.”

  “Language,” Uncle Tom chided and I let out a shriek, twisting around, my heart damn near pounding out of my chest. He squinted at the unconscious man on my couch, blood turning the previously white shirt a dark red. “I knew I hadn’t seen the last of him,” he grumbled. He waved at Clutch’s inert form. “Nice shot.”

  “I didn’t shoot him, Uncle,” I growled, turning back to my patient. “He showed up like this.”

  “And you let him in?” Uncle Tom asked in disbelief. “Haven’t I taught you any better?”

  I pressed my lips together to stop the retort that formed. “He needed help,” I said instead, praying for the patience I never seemed to possess.

  Uncle Tom snorted, crossing his arms over his chest. “Good riddance, I say.”

  I glanced over my shoulder, glaring at him. “I’m not letting him die.”

  “And for what? So he can wind up back in prison?” He stabbed his finger in Clutch’s direction. “He’s shot and he came here instead of a hospital. What’s that tell you? It tells me he was doing something illegal. That’s what.” Uncle Tom’s forehead creased as he frowned. “And what is he doing here anyway? How did he know where you lived?”

  “How about a little less negativity and a little more brute strength?” I said instead of answering. “This would be easier if he was lying flat.”

  Uncle Tom grunted but came around as I struggled to move Clutch’s deadweight. “Don’t think I’m forgetting about this,” he warned, hooking his arms under Clutch’s shoulders and dragging him until he was laid out on the couch, his head hanging off the side. “There.”

  “Fix his head,” I replied, glancing at Uncle Tom through my eyelashes. He made a grumbling noise but moved Clutch’s head, albeit grudgingly. “We don’t know what happened, but I do know he needs my help. Remember, I took an oath.”

  He scoffed. “I like how you trot that out when it suits you.” He dragged my medical bag closer though as I slipped my fingers back into the wound, determined to grab the bullet. “What’s your mother going to say when she finds out?”

  I didn’t bother to look up as I pinched the bullet between my fingers. “Nothing because she’s not going to find out.” I held up the bullet, inspecting it with satisfaction. “Gotcha,” I murmured, before laying it on the table and taking the gauze Uncle Tom held out. “Thanks.” I wiped the skin around his wound, and absorbed the blood that had started to ooze out when I removed the bullet. “I mean unless you want to give Mom a call and tell her?” I spared Uncle Tom a glance, catching his grimace. “That’s what I thought.”

  “He’s a criminal.”

  “He was pardoned,” I replied tongue in cheek.

  “Don’t make me regret that,” he growled with a shake of his head as I started to stich the wound closed. “The fact that he’s even here makes me regret it,” he muttered under his breath.

  “If it makes you feel better, it was Mom that signed the pardon,” I said cheerfully and he just gave me a flat stare. “I have a good feeling about him.” I tied off the thread as he exhaled in exasperation. “And you know I’m never wrong.”

  “Yeah, I’m not putting any faith in your gut feelings, any more” he grumbled. “Remember, I met that loser you were going to marry.”

  My eyes narrowed as I pointed my finger at him. “We don’t talk about him. Besides, Mom introduced us.”

  “You’re the one that said yes,” he retorted, getting to his feet.

  “Hold it,” I ordered and he stopped. “What’s your blood type?”

  ***

  “He’s stable.” Uncle Tom rolled his sleeve down, covering the bandage creasing his elbow. “Thanks to me,” he added under his breath before raising his voice. “I need to call this in.”

  “No,” I said quickly, shaking my head.

  “Yes,” he retorted, gesturing to Clutch. “Something happened to him.”

  “It did,” I agreed to Uncle Tom’s surprise. “But until he can explain, we’re not calling anyone.”

  “Diane,” he said wearily. “This isn’t up for discussion.”

  “Uncle Tom,” I paused, taking a breath. “Uncle Tom, you know they won’t listen to him. They’ll arrest him and ask questions later.” He glanced away from me, knowing I was right. “Plus, it’ll look bad,” I added, growing desperate. That caught his attention as he turned his gaze back to me. “For me. You know I can’t have any more bad press. They’ll take my medical license.” It was a low blow, but there was a thread of truth in my words, one he recognized. “Stay. Make sure I’m safe. Hear him out,” I pleaded, knowing I needed him on my side. We’d always been close, especially after Dad died, but the stubborn streak ran strong in our family tree. “He can’t hurt anyone at the moment.” We both glanced down, and even in sleep Clutch managed to exude a sense of menace that couldn’t be denied. I chuckled uneasily, patting his bare chest. “See, harmless.” His skin was hot, too hot, considering we’d stripped the torn and bloody shirt off of him when we’d done the blood transfusion and he still wore wet jeans.

  “Harmless,” Uncle Tom echoed as I dug in my bag for an antibiotic. “If that’s what you call harmless, then we really need to work on your definition.”

  I glanced up at him. “I’ve faced down knife wielding drug addicts, Uncle Tom,” I reminded him. “And Mom after Hugh broke off the engagement because I was quote, ‘Bad for his image.’”

  “I can’t believe your Mom hasn’t had his medical license revoked,” Uncle Tom mused.

  “I can’t believe she never put a hit on him,” I retorted, tapping the vial of antibiotic as I filled the needle. “She was more furious than I’ve ever seen.”

  “This is true,” he agreed, cocking his head. “But don’t think you’re going to distract me, Diane Renee Richard.” He cut his eyes to Clutch. “If you thought your mother was furious about Hugh, it won’t come close to what she’ll do when she finds about him.”

  “If,” I corrected. “If she finds out.”

  He gave me a dry stare. “When.” His confidence had me barely repressing a shiver. “You’re playing a dangerous game, Diane.”

  “It’s not a game, Uncle.” I inserted the needle in Clutch’s hip, and injected the strong antibiotic. “It’s his life.” I sat back, studying the harsh planes of his face, the close cropped beard highlighting instead of detracting. “I didn’t save his life to just to have someone else take it.” I ran my finger over the purplish scar in his side. “I owe him.”

  “I think you’ve repaid him in full,” Uncle Tom retorted, pacing away from us. “Diane, I worry about you. You know that. And you seem,” he stopped and I glanced over at him.

  “Go ahead,” I dared him. “You can say it.”

  He closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You seem a little more interested in this guy than just as doctor and patient.”

  “Well, I’ve never had a patient save my life,” I quipped lightly, knowing that wasn’t what he meant, but not wanting to admit to the happiness I’d felt when I’d seen him bleeding on my doorstep. “Please, Uncle.”

  He shook his head and my heart dropped. “His Harley is sitting in the middle of the damn driveway for the world to see. Last thing we need is for someone to get nosy.”

  “Uncle,” I said hesitantly, barely able to hope.

  “I’m going to go move it into the barn.” He turned abruptly and stalked out of the room as I exhaled in relief.

  I glanced down at the unconscious man, wondering what had happened to bring him back into my life. “I hope you have a damn good reason, Clutch Hayes, or my uncle is going to make both our lives hell.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Clutch

  “Make it look like an accident. I don’t need any of this coming ba
ck to me.”

  I stopped, adjusting the straps of my backpack as I glanced around, looking for the source of the voice. I’d been walking for hours and barely reached the edge of town, and some of my anger had started to fade. Mom had refused to tell me who my dad was again and I’d decided to leave, throwing my stuff in a backpack and taking off through the window.

  Normally, I’d just head over to Cord’s house and we’d sneak a beer in the garage while he listened to me bitch about Mom’s insistence on keeping my Dad’s identity a secret. But Cord and Creed were off with their dad on a weekend trip I was supposed to go on, until Mom got pissed at their dad at the last minute.

  “Yeah, what about me? I’m taking all the risk,” another voice answered and I eased back a step, not wanting to get caught eavesdropping on their conversation. I’d let my anger distract me and was in a part of town I wasn’t supposed to be in. I’d heard Johnny and Cash complaining about the shit that went down around here and how the cops never did anything about it.

  “It’s not like it’s a hardship,” the other voice sneered. “We both benefit.”

  I started to back away, searching for a shadow to hide in as their voices came closer. Abandoned warehouses lined the pitted road. They must be standing in one of the parking lots, I decided, squeezing my lanky body into a gap between two buildings. My backpack caught on something and I twisted, hearing it rip, but I was free. I crouched down just as two men walked past, their faces shrouded in shadows.

  “Yeah, but I don’t work for free.”

  “You’ll get your money when I get Cash,” the other one retorted, their voices fading as they walked further away. I shivered, suddenly regretting my decision to run away from home. I wasn’t exactly sure what I’d overheard, but getting paid in cash usually meant illegal stuff, at least that was what Cord always claimed his dad said about the illegals who worked at the construction site.

  I peeked out between the buildings and spotted the two guys about a block down. I took a chance and slide out from between the buildings when I heard the squawk of a radio.

  “10-57, 5’11” approximately 150 pounds.”

  “Damn thing,” the guy muttered, reaching to his shoulder and silencing the radio. “Probably another damn runaway.”

  My eyes rounded when I recognized the description as me, and fear surged through me as I realized the guy must be a cop. Panic threatened to overtake me and the desire to run was intense, but I knew it would draw their attention.

  And that was the absolute last thing I wanted.

  ***

  I jerked awake, unsettled by the dream and the painful throbbing in my shoulder. Slowly, the memory of showing up on Doc’s doorstep trickled in, replacing the odd dream and I sat up, wincing as the wound in my shoulder pulled. Uneasiness tugged at me and I searched for a reason why, shouting, “Doc!” when I remembered the man looming behind her. I rolled to my feet, the room swimming in front of me. “Doc!”

  “What are you shouting about? I’m right here.” She appeared before me, almost like an angel or more accurately a demon from hell sent to torture me because I’d escaped hell once again. “You need to sit down before you fall down, Clutch.”

  She reached for my arm, but I shook her off, looking around wildly. “Where is he?” All I could think was that Rob had followed me here and was playing some game. “Did he hurt you?” She stared at me, concern etched across her face.

  “Who?”

  “Rob,” I answered shortly, grabbing her arm and dragging her closer to me. “He followed me. He was here. I saw him.” Frustration bit through me, entwined with the fear that I wouldn’t be able to protect her. “We need to go.”

  “Clutch,” she spoke softly, but I ignored her, shuffling to the door. “Clutch,” she said louder, resisting my pull, and we played an extremely short game of tug of war since I could barely stand. “He’s not here. I promise.”

  “I saw him.” I repeated, suddenly unsure. “I saw,” I stopped, focusing on the brief moment before I’d lost consciousness. “I saw –” A man appeared behind Diane, standing in the doorway and it clicked. “I saw him.”

  She twisted around to check, but her expression was resigned, as if she had already known. “You’re still here,” she sighed and he rolled his eyes.

  “You called the warden,” I stated softly, confusion warring with a sense of betrayal.

  “I did not call him,” she denied emphatically. “He showed up uninvited.”

  “Lucky for you,” the warden drawled, staring at Doc. His gaze switched to me. “You not so much.” He crossed his arms, the earlier affection clearly reserved for Doc as he turned a stern expression to me. “You show up on my niece’s doorstep, half dead, with a gunshot wound. Care to explain?”

  “I needed help,” I said shortly, hating the necessity of admitting that fact.

  “There are hospitals for that,” he declared, not giving an inch.

  “Maybe we should sit down,” Diane interjected. I still held on to her, but it was more that she was holding me up than I was holding her back. “You’re still recovering.”

  She tried to steer me back to the couch, but I resisted, shaking my head. “No.”

  “Okay,” she muttered, sounding the faintest bit exasperated. “The kitchen table okay with you?”

  “Yeah,” I agreed, moving unsteadily but the warden didn’t offer to help me to eternal gratitude. It was a slow walk but Diane didn’t waver under my weight. “Thank you, again,” I murmured, trying to convey my appreciation with my tone.

  “Anytime,” she replied, the single word heavy with meaning that my foggy head couldn’t interpret at the moment.

  I sank into the hard wooden chair, not surprised when the warden sat across from me. “Warden,” I said respectfully. He didn’t say anything and Diane cleared her throat as she pulled cups from the cabinet.

  The warden gave her an irritated glance that she completely ignored. “You can call me Tom,” he rumbled, but the glare he turned my way said if I did he’d find a way to stick me right back in jail.

  “Warden,” I said and Diane made an annoyed sound. “I didn’t break any laws.”

  “Then why is there a warrant out for your arrest?”

  Diane plunked a glass in front of me along with a plate of food. “Eat all of it,” she ordered, her expression uncompromising. “And drink your juice. You need to replenish the blood you lost.”

  “You knew about the warrant?” I asked, her opinion more important than I cared to admit. She stared pointedly at the glass I had wrapped my hand around and I raised it to my lips.

  “No,” she replied as I took a sip. “I didn’t know. I don’t care. There were no exclusions listed when I said I’d help you if you ever needed it.”

  “You don’t care,” I repeated, dumbfounded.

  “No.” She went back to the counter as I glanced over at the warden, but he just shook his head. “I have a good feeling about you, Clutch Hayes.”

  My lips parted but I couldn’t figure out a response to that questionable statement. The warden gestured to my plate. “Eat up or she will force feed you and while I’d pay a pretty penny to watch, it might be better if you just fed yourself.” I nodded and started to eat. “I don’t really appreciate a convict showing up on my niece’s doorstep.”

  “Former,” I muttered around a mouthful of food.

  “For now,” he rejoined, his expression inscrutable. “Who shot you?”

  “A guy named Rob Williams,” I answered promptly as Diane came and sat next to me, two steaming mugs of coffee in her hand. She pushed one to her uncle, who gestured for me to continue. “He killed someone,” I paused, trying and failing to sum up an explanation for who Ronnie had been. “He killed someone I cared about,” I said finally. “And he took someone I love.”

  “He took someone? Like kidnapped them?” The warden asked and I nodded, taking another sip of my drink when Diane prodded me. “He still has them? Did you kill him?”

  “No
, I didn’t return fire since he still had her with him.”

  “Her?” Doc questioned softly and I took a deep breath, knowing I had explain everything.

  “Kara, she’s six,” I answered and the warden sucked in a sharp breath. “She’s Rob’s daughter, but he hasn’t seen her in years. He was sent to prison for drugs. He escaped after he found out I’d been released. He killed Kara’s mom, Ronnie, and took Kara.” I sent the warden a pleading stare. “This was my fault. He went after them because of me. I have to get Kara back.” I reached down to my pocket, causing the warden to tense, but Diane just shook her head.

  “He doesn’t have any weapons on him,” she assured him, and when I paused to give her a questioning glance, she shrugged. “I checked. I’m not an idiot.”

  I left that alone, fumbling in my pocket for the drawing I’d kept for so long. “Kara drew this a couple years ago. Her mom and I had been a thing,” I admitted, glancing out of the corner of my eye at Doc, but she didn’t react. “Ronnie broke it off while I was in prison.” I shook my head. “We were done. Me getting out wasn’t going to change that, but Rob – he’s hated me for a long time.”

  “Hated you enough to kill the mother of his child and then kidnap his own child?” The warden questioned as Diane smoothed the paper gently.

  “Ronnie gave us,” I stopped myself, deciding to keep the club out of it. “She gave the police the location of where they kept the drugs. I’m sure he wanted revenge for that as well.”

  “So you went after him because he killed your ex-girlfriend?” The warden claimed, but before I could answer, Doc spoke.

  “He went after him because he took Kara,” she replied, her finger tracing the oversized drawing of me, the pink construction paper worn along the creases. “She means a lot to you.” There was no hint of question in her words but I answered anyway.