BLOOD: An Evil Dead MC Story (The Evil Dead MC Series Book 7)

by Nicole James

“Fucking hell,” Greasy bit out as he examined it. His eyes flicked up to Ratchet. “Who the hell told you to shoot him? Did you kill him?”

  Ratchet put two fingers to the carotid artery in the man’s neck. “Don’t think so.”

  “You better fucking hope not. Snake will kill you if you fuck up this deal he’s trying to make, at least until it’s locked down.”

  “What are we gonna do with him?”

  Greasy jerked his chin. “You and Critter pick him up and throw him in the van. Take him to the stash house ‘til we figure it out.”

  “Why don’t we just dump him? Or better yet, leave him here?” Critter suggested, staring down at the man.

  “No way. He may be useful.”

  ***

  Greasy tossed his cards on the scarred wooden table, not about to bet another dime on his piece-of-shit hand. He glanced around the dingy two-story shotgun row house they’d been holed up in with their captive for the last two days. Place didn’t even have a goddamn television.

  “You’re folding?” asked Stoner.

  “Yeah, dimwit, I’m folding. What was your first clue?”

  Stoner grinned over at the man across the table. “Guess that just leaves you and me, bro.”

  Greasy stood, grabbed the bottle of Jack off the table, and headed toward the aging window AC unit—the only one in this rattrap. He’d be glad when their business in New Orleans was finished, and he could head back to Texas.

  At least there you could catch a breeze once in a while, and you didn’t have all this stifling humidity that could suck the breath from a man’s lungs. Yeah, he couldn’t wait to scrape the mildew of this town off of his boots.

  Ratchet tromped down the stairs. “We got problems, boss.”

  Christ. What now? This whole trip had been one clusterfuck after another. “Well, what?” he snapped. “You gonna tell me or am I supposed to guess?”

  “He’s worse, burning with fever. I think infection is setting in. If you got plans, better do something about it quick; his usefulness isn’t gonna last much longer.”

  “Well, maybe if you hadn’t shot him that wouldn’t be the case, you moron.”

  Ratchet stared at him, stone-faced. Hell, the man probably felt no remorse—not even for causing his club this problem—but what did he expect from a known sociopath.

  “Just stay the fuck away from him. Hear me?”

  “Sure.”

  The man had agreed readily enough, but Greasy knew Ratchet had been up there tormenting the man like he’d caught him doing repeatedly since they’d brought him here. The man took pleasure in it, too. Greasy didn’t give a damn, other than it was probably making the situation worse, and now he had to deal with it, goddamn it. He pulled his phone out and made the call he dreaded.

  ***

  Snake pulled his phone out and put it on speaker. He barked, “Yeah?”

  “We got a problem.”

  Snake glanced around the empty lot behind an abandoned manufacturing building on Bienvenue Street. “Swear to God, Greasy, you better not tell me that fucker escaped.”

  “Nope, but he’s getting worse. Fast.”

  “Fucking hell.”

  “Needs medical attention. Like now.”

  “And what the fuck do you want me to do—pull a doctor out of my ass? Hijack a paramedic wagon? Kidnap a goddamn nurse?”

  “We could dump him off at a hospital. We’d have to give him up, but at least we wouldn’t have killed him. What with the deal you’re trying to make, don’t figure that would go over too well.”

  “Motherfucker, I’m not dumping him anywhere! He stays where he’s at.”

  “He’s gonna slip into convulsions… and then a coma.”

  “Oh, so now you’re a fucking expert?”

  “Just seen it before. My kid sister.”

  Fuck. Snake felt like shit. He’d forgotten that when Greasy was a kid, his piece-of-shit parents had been too strung out on drugs to get their six-year-old daughter to a doctor. Greasy had watched her die from fever when he was just ten years old.

  “Sorry, man. I’ll figure something out.” Snake slid his phone into his pocket and glanced up at his two Brothers and the lowlife drug dealer who owed the club a grand. “Where were we?”

  “We were about to beat this asshole to death with a lead pipe,” his Brother reminded him with a grin.

  Snake grinned back at Bagger’s exaggeration. “Oh, right.”

  “Wait. You need a nurse? I know one,” the man pleaded, his hands up.

  Snake cocked his head to the side. This wouldn’t be the first time some loser facing a beating—or worse—had offered up something in trade for sparing his life. “Do you now?”

  Bagger crossed his arms. “This ought a be good.”

  “Swear to God. My sister-in-law.”

  “Your sister-in-law.”

  “Well, used to be.”

  “You live in Texas. We don’t have time to drive back and get her.”

  “She’s here in New Orleans. Not far.”

  That got his attention. “And she’d help us?”

  “She’ll do whatever I fucking tell her.”

  Snake grinned. “Good answer. Maybe you have your uses still.”

  Chapter Three

  Catherine Randall stood at the nurse’s station, shuffling through the charts. Her long tawny hair was pulled back in a ponytail that hung like corn silk all the way to her waist. Her delicate features held very little makeup, but her big blue eyes with their long lashes needed no more than just a bit of mascara, and that was usually all she wore.

  “Aren’t you supposed to be gone, Cat?” Deloris asked from her seat at the computer.

  Catherine flipped the chart she’d been studying closed and looked at the watch on her wrist. She hadn’t realized it was already four o’clock. “God, yes.”

  “So what are you going to do with your vacation?”

  Cat looked over at the black woman in her late fifties who had become a good friend ever since Cat came to town a year ago. “Not a blessed thing. Sleep late, lie around, and do nothing. Maybe finish that book I started.”

  “Sounds heavenly.”

  Cat moved behind the woman’s rotund body and hugged her neck. “Love you, Del.”

  The woman patted her arms. “Oh, hush with you. Go on and get out of here, now, before Dr. Reinhardt comes around the corner and finds something for you to do.”

  Cat’s eyes got big. “Oh hell no. I’m out of here.”

  Deloris chuckled. “You better hustle your butt quick, gal.”

  Cat waved and headed to the nurse’s break room. There was a small set of lockers against one wall. She opened hers and grabbed her purse. Her gym bag sat at the bottom of her locker. Usually, she stopped at the gym after work, but tonight she was exhausted. She slammed the locker closed then headed to the elevator and punched the button for the first floor. When it arrived, she stepped in, pulled her cell phone out, and checked for messages. The doors were just about to close when a hand slid in between, stopping them.

  Crap. She’d almost made it. The doors slid back open and who of all people stepped inside but Dr. Reinhardt. Double crap.

  He smiled.

  Cat slunk back against the corner as he pressed the button for the second floor. The man was an obnoxious jerk who tried to corner Cat any chance he got and hit on her. She’d thought about reporting him on more than one instance, but she didn’t want to risk her job. Instead, she tried to avoid him as much as possible, which wasn’t always easy. The last thing she wanted was to be caught in an elevator—of all places—with him.

  Her eyes swept over him as he eyed her. She supposed he was attractive enough for a middle-aged man. He was tall, trim, with light brown hair that was just beginning to gray at the temples.

  “How have you been, Catherine?”

  “Just fine, Dr. Reinhardt. Thank you.”

  “That offer for dinner still stands.”

  She glanced away and chose her words car
efully. “I’m flattered. Really I am, but I don’t think it would be a good idea. Considering we work together.”

  He stepped closer, crowding her against the wall. “Nothing wrong with a little workplace romance. I understand you’re up for your annual review next month. Maybe you should reconsider.”

  The bell dinged, and the doors began to slide open.

  He had no choice but to step away quickly before the people waiting to get on saw his inappropriate behavior. He gave her one last look as he moved to step out. “Have a nice night, Ms. Randall.”

  Two hospital administrators got on, nodding to the doctor as they did.

  As the doors slid closed, she blew out a sigh of relief. Thank God she didn’t have to see him again for two weeks. Two heavenly weeks. She grinned. She was going to take a long, hot bath, drink a beer and curl up on the couch, and watch television. For once she could stay up all night and sleep in late.

  Exiting the elevator on the main floor, she crossed the lobby to the entrance to the employee-parking garage. She hastened her steps, the cool, dimly lit structure always giving her the creeps. She made it to her car, beeped the door unlocked, and jumped inside, tossing her purse on the passenger seat.

  Fifteen minutes later, she pulled into her apartment complex and parked in front of the second building. Her unit was on the second floor. She grabbed her bag and headed up the stairs to the apartment she shared with her younger sister. Holly should be home by now. She was enrolled in a local community college.

  Cat inserted her key in the lock and pushed the door open, calling, “Holly, you home?” She slung her bag down on the couch and picked up the stack of mail on the side table. “I’m ready for a beer. And a bath. That jerk, Reinhardt asked me out again, can you believe it?” She flipped through the stack as she absently wandered into the kitchen, her eyes on the mail. “He cornered me in the elevator…”

  Her words trailed off, and the envelopes fell from her hands as she took in the sight that waited for her in the kitchen. There were two scary leather-clad bikers, one leaning against the sink with his arms folded, the other kicked back in one of the tiny dining chairs. But the scariest part was the man standing across the room, holding a knife to her terrified sister’s throat, his other hand clamped over her mouth.

  “Glad you could join us, Cat,” he said with a grin.

  Dax! Cat knew him well. He wasn’t a biker, but he wanted to be. No, Dax was a low-life drug dealer. The man had seduced Cat’s older sister and talked her into marrying him. What a mistake that had been. Cat had begged and pleaded with her, but all the pleading in the world hadn’t stopped Stacey from running off with him. She’d been blindly in love.

  Cat understood Stacey’s first attraction to the man. He was a good looking guy with his dark hair and piercing blue eyes, but Cat always thought they were cold eyes that held no real feelings for her sister, other than his desire for her body. He’d used her up, and when he’d gotten into trouble with a customer—a biker customer at that—she’d been the one to pay the price. A year after they were married, she’d died in a suspicious car explosion Cat was sure had been meant for Dax.

  After her sister’s death, Cat had taken her younger sister and moved them both out of the trailer they’d lived in with their alcoholic mother, determined that the same fate wouldn’t befall her younger sister.

  It had been a hard childhood for all of them, and Cat understood Stacey’s desire to escape life in the trailer park in the east Texas town of Beaumont. She herself had worked and planned to make it out. It was why she’d studied so hard in school, and then worked harder to put herself through a nursing program her high school guidance counselor had helped her get into.

  She’d done so much to escape this crap and now, here it was, standing in her kitchen, threatening the one thing she held most dear.

  “Dax. What are you doing here?” She could barely get the words out as her stomach dropped.

  He grinned, and her eyes slid to the bikers. Everything in her told her to step back, to make a dash for the door, but her gaze locked onto the fear in her little sister’s wide eyes, and she knew she could never leave her.

  “Just waitin’ on you, Kitty-Cat.” Dax grinned as he called her that sickening nickname he’d always used.

  “She the one?” the biker at the table asked, his eyes sweeping down over her pale green scrubs.

  “She’s the one,” Dax confirmed for him.

  The biker stood. “Then let’s go. We’ve wasted enough time waiting for her sweet ass to show up.”

  The one leaning against the sink interrupted with a wicked grin. “She said something about a hot bath. Maybe we could give her some time for that. I’ll scrub your back, angel.”

  Cat’s eyes darted to Dax. “What do you want?”

  “You, Cat. Need you to come with us. We need you to put your nursing skills to use. Got a man who needs your help.”

  “I’m not going anywhere with you. And I sure as hell am not treating any dirty, drug-dealing biker.”

  At that, the one with his arms folded, straightened. “I’ve heard enough out of this bitch. We goin’ or what?”

  Dax jerked on Holly, causing her to scream behind his hand as he put the knife near her eye. “You’ll do exactly what you’re told. Or I’ll kill your sister.”

  “Okay! Dax, let her go. Please. I’ll do whatever you want. Just don’t hurt her.”

  He lifted his chin toward the men. “You take her. I’ll stay here with little sister as insurance Cat complies and gives it her best effort.”

  With that, the man by the sink grabbed her arm and hustled her out of the kitchen.

  She twisted, calling back, “Holly! Everything’s going to be all right! I love you, Holly!”

  The man jerked her to a stop, pulling her around to face him. “Shut up, bitch! You make one sound once we leave this apartment, you try to alert anyone and your sister is dead. You understand, Kitty-Cat?”

  She looked up into his taunting face and read the cold truth in his eyes. He’d do it in a heartbeat and not think twice. She nodded. “Yes. I promise. No trouble. I swear. Just don’t hurt her.”

  “Keep your mouth shut, do what you’re told and maybe you’ll both live. You don’t, I’ll kill you both myself and dump your bodies out in the swamp where nobody will ever find you. Got it?”

  She nodded frantically.

  He shoved her out the door, and they dragged her to some bikes parked at the end of the row. She was ordered onto the back of one, and a moment later they roared out of the parking lot.

  Fifteen minutes later, they surprised her by pulling into the parking garage of the hospital. They parked in a dark deserted area and shut the bikes off. She scrambled off the back and asked, “What are we doing here?”

  The tall one with the ponytail yanked her close and spoke to her in a low stern voice. “Guy you’re treating has a gunshot wound.” He jerked his chin toward the entrance. “Get whatever supplies you’ll need to treat him and get your sweet ass back here pronto. Remember, keep your mouth shut or your sister is dead. You’ve got twenty minutes. Move!”

  He shoved her toward the entrance.

  She dashed inside, thankful she still had her badge hanging from the lanyard around her neck. She quickly moved up to the third floor, grateful no one rode up with her. As the elevator slowly rose, her mind frantically searched for everything she would need to treat this man. Most items she would have no problem getting access to. She only hoped the man hadn’t lost too much blood. There was no way she could get access to the hematology department. She would have to have special authorization for that.

  The elevator doors slid open. She lucked out as Deloris, who was still on duty, faced the other way on a phone call. Cat darted down the hall to the break room, hearing the voices of other nursing staff in open doors as she passed room after room. Reaching the break room, she found it empty. She quickly opened her locker and grabbed her gym bag. It was big enough to hold all the supplies she
’d made a list of in her head in the elevator: sterile packs, gloves, masks, gauze, suture kits, bags of fluid for intravenous administration, cannula set, forceps, antibiotics, analgesic, tourniquets, syringes, blood pressure cuff…

  Her mind was spinning, hoping she wouldn’t forget anything. She stood back up, and her eyes landed on the phone hanging on the wall. She paused, her hand on the locker. She could call the police, but what would happen to her sister? Would they be able to break in and save her from Dax before he hurt her? Oh God, was he hurting her even now? And what of the two bikers waiting for her in the parking garage as the precious minutes ticked by? And what if the police didn’t get to Holly in time?

  She couldn’t risk it. She slammed the locker closed and moved down the hall to gather her supplies.

  Seven minutes later, she had everything stuffed in her duffel bag and was headed to the elevator.

  “Hey, girl. I thought you left earlier?” Deloris asked from the desk, stopping her dead in her tracks.

  Damn.

  She turned, pasting a bright smile on her face only to also find Dr. Reinhardt standing at the station. He glanced up from a chart, his eyes moving over her.

  Cat looked over to Deloris. “I just forgot my gym bag. I decided I might want to pick up a spin class or maybe yoga over the week.”

  Deloris nodded blankly, her eyes falling to the duffel. “Okay. Well, have a great time.”

  “I will. Bye.” She waved and dashed down to the elevator. She jabbed the button repeatedly, like that would make it arrive any faster, as she watched the numbers over the door blinking on and off as the elevator moved from the first to the second and paused.

  Crap! Come on!

  She checked her watch, debating whether to dash down the stairwell instead. She’d used up eighteen minutes of the twenty the bikers had given her. Glancing back up, she saw the number three finally light up. The doors slid open and just as she was getting on, Dr. Reinhardt walked around the corner.

  “Going down?” he asked.

  She nodded and stepped on, mentally cursing her luck. She punched the lobby button, praying he’d get off on the second floor, but he never pushed that button. He looked over at her.