by Leah Wilde
Blood coated his arms where the fabric of his jacket had been torn through. His face was scraped up badly, bits of asphalt imbedded into his skin. It was swollen, too, and I worried he might have fractured his jaw or cheek. Unfortunately, it was difficult to tell, and I wasn’t about to massage his face to find out. He needed X-rays.
Pulling away his jacket, I let out a small gasp. His arms and face looked bad, but they didn’t look problematic. People survived those sort of wounds, even if they were painful. But his chest was another matter.
It looked like he had shrapnel lodged into his stomach, part of it still sticking out. Dark blood was trickling from the wounds. It wasn’t gushing, which was probably the only reason he was still alive, but it was definitely moving quickly. The blood wasn’t clotting enough to stop the flow. It was worse still because the embedded shrapnel couldn’t be taken out without increasing the flow of blood. If I tried to remove the metal, he could have bled out. But leaving them in for too long was a bad idea, too, especially since I wanted to try and wrap up the wound in an effort to stop the blood.
“Shit,” I muttered.
I shrugged off my jacket and laid it across the worst part of the wound. He had cuts all over him, but the left side just beneath his ribs was the worst of it. I was hesitant to apply too much pressure, lest I force the bits of metal further into him, but I had to get the blood to slow.
I ended up laying it over the whole thing, then gently pressing over small parts a little at a time with the tips of my fingers. When I felt something hard, I stopped and moved to the next spot. It wouldn’t be tight enough to really stop the bleeding, but it would slow it enough that the blood might be able to start clotting.
It would give him time. When that was pressed in as best it could, I left him. I raced up the ditch back to my car, which was still running. I pressed my hazards quickly, realizing that if someone didn’t see me, I could cause my own special accident. And I’d had about enough of that tonight.
I took a quick moment to search for the power cord for my phone, but I couldn’t find it. I had probably left it at home; I was really bad about that.
I’d just have to clean him up as best I could, and if I could get him stable enough, I’d try to move him. Like I can lift someone that size!
He wasn’t the biggest man I’d ever seen, but he wasn’t small, either. He was probably six feet, at least, and had noticeably large biceps, like he worked out regularly. Which meant that even though he was trim, he would be heavy. Muscle weighed a lot more than fat.
Still, maybe if I could roll him onto something, I could move him…
I went to the trunk of my car and dug through it until I found the emergency first aid kit. There were bandages, antiseptic, scissors, and ibuprofen. There were other things in there, too, including an emergency space blanket. I hoped I wouldn’t need it, but if I couldn’t get him into the car, I’d wrap him up in it and drive like hell to the hospital to get help.
With the kit in hand, I grabbed a couple bottles of water, and then I hurried back down the ditch.
The man was still breathing, which was a good sign, but I noticed that my brown coat was stained heavily with deep, dark red blood. There was a lot more of it than I’d hoped. Definitely not a good sign.
“Hold on,” I muttered as I came to a stop beside him.
Opening up the kit, I grabbed the scissors and cut open his, already torn, shirt. Pulling the fabric away revealed an array of wounds. Some were minor abrasions but others were deep. The gash that was causing the biggest problem was about two inches wide and looked like it had come as a result of jagged metal being drug along his side.
I frowned. Was this from a motorcycle accident? I was used to car accidents, and this sort of wound wouldn’t have been uncommon but that was because the metal siding could get bent and torn. Sometimes the human body moved in just the right way to catch it, and the result was a gash much like this.
But motorcycles didn’t have siding like that, and riders tended to slide off quickly, letting the motorcycle continue to move rapidly away from them. Sometimes it didn’t work like that, but it still was unlikely to happen in such a way.
I found myself glancing quickly around to see if there was another car, but I didn’t see anything. A hit and run? I wondered, except I would think the other car would be wrecked if it did this. Who drives away with torn up car siding?
Returning my focus to the man, I reminded myself that it didn’t matter right now. It was all about saving his life. I could get the details from him then.
I pulled off my over shirt quickly, grateful that I’d worn a tank top beneath it. I laid it on the ground beside me to keep at least a semi-clean workspace. Pulling out flat cotton bandages, I grabbed the cotton gauze, too, and laid them on my shirt to the side. Then I pulled out the cotton balls and the rubbing alcohol and hydrogen peroxide.
The peroxide wouldn’t help the wound heal, but it would force oxygen through the wound and help to bring any dirt or foreign particles to the surface. Hopefully, that would keep it from becoming infected.
I started with that, pouring it over the wound. Instantly, the bloody mess fizzed and turned white as oxygen raced through the wound. It cleared it out. I watched as puss and bits of gravel and small metal flecks escaped the opening.
When it looked like the peroxide was done, I unscrewed the cap to the first water bottle and rinsed it off. I tried to use it sparingly, but there was a lot of blood. I managed to get most of the wound clean, though. Next, I grabbed the alcohol. Tipping over the bottle, I poured a generous amount onto the bandages beside me. I would rather they were dry, but I needed the extra disinfectant. The peroxide was better for dislodging the debris I knew would be in the wound, but the alcohol was a stronger antibacterial agent. I was hoping that the combination of the two would be enough to keep the wound from getting infected before I got help.
I’d pretty much come to the conclusion that I wasn’t going to be able to get him into my car—not by myself.
When the bandage was damp with the alcohol, I gently placed it over the wound. The blood was still flowing pretty freely, so I pressed as hard as I dared. I knew there were still larger pieces of metal imbedded in the skin, and I didn’t want to make that part worse, but I needed to stop the blood. That had to take priority.
With the bandage in place, I started to wrap the gauze around his stomach to keep the bandage from moving too much. Easier said than done, I found. I tried to move him onto his side in an effort to get the gauze around him and underneath, but he was heavy. I ended up worming my hand beneath him with the edge of one strip until I could meet it on the other side with my other hand. I did this several more times until the bandage was as secure as it was going to get.
It took longer than I would have liked.
With that at least slowed, I moved on. I checked the rest of his body. I cleaned up cuts along his arms and his face, which was badly swollen now. If the swelling was on the outside, that was actually better. If it was in his head, nothing I did right now mattered much. He’d die before I ever got him to the hospital.
Moving on, I felt along his shoulders and neck. It was difficult to tell whether or not he damaged it significantly, but I couldn’t risk that he had. I had to run back to my car, but I found a neck brace there. It was the cushy kind rather than the more effective sort that strapped across your forehead, but given the circumstances, this would have to do for now.
Finally, I pulled out the space blanket and laid it out over the top of him. Wrapping the gauze around his middle had told me all I needed to know about moving him, that I wasn’t going to be able to. Which meant I needed to get my butt out of here and to the hospital as quickly as possible. Or to a phone. Just to get someone out here.
With any luck, what I’d been able to do for him now would keep him alive until an ambulance could arrive.
If we’d been closer to the city or the main roads, I could have tried flagging someone down. But out here in t
he middle of nowhere at almost two in the morning…well, there wasn’t going to be anyone on these roads tonight.
At least, that was what I thought until I scrambled up the side of the ditch to the road and saw the headlight speeding down the road towards me.
“I don’t believe it,” I muttered.
Maybe we were saved after all.
Chapter Two
Peyton
45 minutes earlier…
Jack slammed down the shot glass on the table, making the cards shake a bit. He’d been going at it pretty hard for the last hour or so, and I was willing to admit that it annoyed me. Jack was a good enough guy, but his company got progressively more obnoxious as he drank. Tonight, however, I was making the extra effort to not let it get to me.
Jack had a reason to be drunk. He had a reason to be blubbering and angry and rambling, even if it annoyed me.
“That bitch,” he hiccupped, then wiped at his mouth. “How could she do something like this?”
I gathered up the cards and shuffled again. He was only half paying attention, and the others at the table would have been happy to take full advantage of that, which was why we were playing with cigarettes and not money. It wouldn’t be fair to take all of Jack’s money tonight. Not when he was so messed up over Amy.
“And with that cocksucker, too,” he growled. His eyes lit up in anger, fueled further by the alcohol.
I let out a sigh, then dealt the cards. “Should thank the bastard,” I told him seriously.
Jack looked at me like I’d just grown a second head. “What?” he demanded, his tongue sounding heavy in his mouth as he tried to talk around it instead of with it.
I shrugged my shoulders, glancing at my hand. I didn’t have squat, but I could bluff my way through just about anything. Hell, that was half the fun of poker in the first place, right? I moved my cards around like I was organizing them, like I had something to organize. Then I waited as the others mulled over their lot.
My eyes flickered to Jack, then back to my hand. Eight high, I thought. I resisted the urge to snort at how ridiculous it was to try and win with something like that. Still, I would.
“I’m saying that a cheating bitch is a cheating bitch,” I pointed out. Jack looked like he was struggling to follow, or maybe he was just struggling to translate the words in his alcohol addled brain. “Better you find that out about her now rather than marry first.”
For a second, Jack looked like a three year old trying to figure out a philosophy text book. He wasn’t necessarily stupid but he would never be mistaken for a sober drunk.
His face softened slightly, and for a second, I thought I’d gotten through to him. Then he opened his big mouth. “I’m’a kill that bastard! That whore stealing son of a bitch!”
I sighed, but I didn’t bother telling him this time how stupid he sounded. Wouldn’t it be better to let some other asshole deal with a cheating woman? Wouldn’t it be better to get your heart kicked a little now, rather than trying to deal with that shit later when you’ve gotten really attached? I didn’t bother saying this or telling him that they’d only been dating a few months. He wouldn’t listen in this state.
Instead, I called my bet and took two cards. Jack continued to drink and wail; we continued to play cards.
I was just about to show Sean that I was a better bluffer than he had guessed when my phone rang. I retrieved it from my pocket and glanced at the screen. Frowning a little, I answered it. It was Daniel. “You change your mind about coming out tonight?” I asked him, throwing down my failure of a hand on top of the table. The boys groaned, having already folded themselves. All except Jack, who hadn’t even seemed to notice that a game was begin played. He got up to get himself another drink; I collected the pot, which was about twenty-three cigarettes.
“No, boss, I’m at work,” he told me, and I straightened up at the serious tone in his voice.
“What’s going on?”
There was a pause. The sounds came through muffled, like maybe he was covering the mouthpiece. Then he said, “I got a tip. Something about a bad motorcycle wreck between Richmond and Allerton.”
I started to frown, realizing who was in that area. “You heard anything from Keenan?”
There was another pause, then, “No, that’s why I called you. I’ve tried his cell a dozen times but keep getting voicemail. There’s a chance it isn’t him, but he was supposed to be watching that stretch of road. It’s not like him to not check in with someone. Besides, it’s our territory. No one else on a bike would be going through there this time of night.”
I had to agree. The Copperheads owned everything from the south side of Richmond to the far end of Allerton, right before you hit the river. If there was anyone out there on a motorcycle at this time of night, it was Keenan. Otherwise, he’d have been the one calling to tell me that someone was on our turf.
“Who reported the crash?” I asked. “Have the police arrived yet?”
“No,” Daniel told me quickly. “That’s why I’m calling you. I got the call directly to my personal line. The guy who called was anonymous. All he said was there’s been a wreck involving a motorcycle. If I want to be the first on the scene, I’d better move fast.”
I frowned. Daniel was on the police force. It was a hairy situation because I didn’t like cops, but I respected Daniel. Officially, he was a stand-up police officer, which he took very seriously. But unofficially, he was one of my closest friends. He wanted no part of selling drugs or boosting cars, and if I ever did something truly stupid like selling girls, he’d be the first one to hang my ass.
But I happened to agree with him on that front, so we didn’t have an issue there.
That being said, he did do us favors. Not the big stuff but little things. He kept the police from getting too close, kept the fights from getting too crazy, and he kept us straighter than most of the clubs out there.
Still, he could only do so much.
“Sounds like someone knew you were my in,” I murmured softly into the phone. I didn’t like that idea. Not one bit.
There was a long pause before Daniel said anything more. “Yeah, it does. And if one person knows, someone else probably does, too.” To his credit, Daniel didn’t sound worried about it, which told me that, whatever happened, he’d see this thing through.
“Thanks. You got a specific address?”
“Just that it’s close to the turnoff for Pike. Nothing more than that.”
I thought a moment, then asked, “How soon before you have to say something to someone?”
He hesitated half a second, then said, “I can give you maybe an hour. Anything longer and I can’t guarantee that someone else won’t get a call about it.”
I nodded, though he couldn’t see. I told him, “Give me that, then do what you have to do. I’ll take care of it or I won’t.”
I hung up the phone, then looked at the men around me. None of them were in any position to be driving, and I needed them with their wits about them. And seeing as how all of them had had at least three shots and God only knew how many beers, I quickly decided that none of them were coming with me. Period.
Standing quickly, I told Sean next to me and Thomas on the other side, “Crash upstairs. No one leaves tonight. Make sure Jack doesn’t do anything stupid.”
“Where you going, boss?” Sean was the least drunk of the group by several shots. I didn’t trust him enough to drive a motorcycle anywhere, but he seemed to be focusing a little better than the rest.
“To check out a report,” I said smoothly. Until I knew for sure it was Keenan, I didn’t want to cause any trouble. If I told them what it was, they’d likely want to come with me, and I wasn’t interested in fighting with three drunk assholes over whether or not they were sober enough to not be a problem for me.
Sean frowned. “Was that Daniel?” he asked. He, like several of the other men, didn’t much care for Daniel. They didn’t like that he was a cop and always questioned his loyalties. They didn’t l
ook at things the way I did, and I didn’t blame them.
Daniel and I went way back. Not everyone had that kind of history.
“Yeah. He said that there was an accident. Nothing serious, but I’m going to check it out. I need a ride anyway.”
Sean didn’t look wholly convinced, but I was a damn good bluffer. The calm, easy way I spoke calmed down whatever instinctual worry that Sean was sensing. The man ended up shrugging his shoulders and said, “I was just about to clean your clock anyway.”
I forced a laugh, shaking my head. “Yeah, and there are pigs flying airplanes around the bar right now as we speak. You should wave ‘em down the next chance you get.”
Sean flipped me the bird but grinned to show that it was all in good fun. I told them to take it easy, then left the bar. Slipping on my motorcycle, I drove as quickly as I could towards Pike Street, the turnoff where Daniel had told me that the accident had happened.
# # #
If it hadn’t been for the flashing hazards, I probably would have blazed right past the car pulled over to the side of the road and Keenan lying in a ditch. As it was, I spotted the lights for the car, and as I slowed, I noticed a young woman next to it—a sexy young woman with full breasts, curling brown hair that tumbled over her shoulders, and little more than a tank top over what looked like a pair of pajama pants.
I slowed until finally coming to a stop beside her.
“Oh, thank God,” she said to me, sounding genuinely relieved. It was ironic, definitely not the normal reaction I got from people. “Can you help me? Do you have a phone?”
I threw out the kickstand to my bike, then dismounted. “What’s going on? You having some car trouble?” I motioned towards her car, which looked to be running with the hazards flashing.
She quickly shook her head. “No, no, I’m fine. But there’s a man down there,” she pointed towards the ditch, “who’s been in an accident. He’s really banged up. I’ve done my best to patch him up, but he really needs a doctor.”
As soon as she mentioned a man and an accident, I quickly rushed past her. She followed after me, still talking as I slid down the bank into the ditch.