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Emma

This was so not me. I didn’t whimper and hide and beg for help.

I was not a high-maintenance princess. I was smart.

Tough. Independent. Asking for help just wasn’t my thing.

Whimpering solved nothing. I was more of a ‘suck-it-up and get on with it’ type of gal.

Witnessing a murder and getting shot, though, was a little too much even for me.

It had been years since I’d had anything to do with anyone from the old neighborhood, but Ace was the first one I thought of when I realized how deep I was in over my head.

Telling Ace what happened had helped. A bit.

At least now I didn’t feel quite so panicked.

Truthfully, I felt more embarrassed than anything.

I liked to think I wasn’t good at playing the helpless princess, but here I was with my head buried against the chest of one very macho biker.

The scariest part about it is how good it felt.

I peeked up at him from beneath my eyelashes. His face was set in stone with no emotion showing at all. I couldn’t tell if he was annoyed at me for bringing trouble to his doorstep or if he actually cared about my predicament.

As if he could read my thoughts, he looked down, and a crooked smile brightened up his features. “Feeling any better?”

I bobbed my head without letting go of my death grip on his massive chest. “Yeah. My side hurts like hell, though.”

“Getting shot will do that. Joker will be here soon. He can clean it up and give you something for the pain.”

The sound of a motorcycle’s engine echoed through the air, the volume increasing as it drew closer. I swear I could feel the vibrations of the motor, it was that loud. “Don’t those things come with mufflers? Or are you trying to warn people you’re coming and give them time to hide?”

“Something like that. It’s always handy to have the target too scared to think straight before you get to them.” This time the humor went all the way to his eyes. “Or have the barista get started on your coffee. Depends on the circumstances.”

I didn’t have a snappy comeback for that one. I just blinked up at him.

The sound ceased, and moments later someone knocked on the front door in a strangely staccato rhythm. Maybe it was some kind of secret code the bikers cooked up.

Or maybe it was just a knock, and I was being paranoid.

“Gotta go for a minute, and let him in.”

I reluctantly loosened my grip, and Ace slid out from under me and crossed to the door. I noticed him checking an app on his phone before he unlocked the deadbolts to let his buddy enter. So, probably not a secret code unless Ace was more paranoid than me.

The man called Joker swaggered in, looking every part the bad-assed biker. Six feet tall and muscular, he had shaggy dark hair and a five o’clock shadow. His leather cut had a badge on the front -- the name read Joker and below that was the word Medic .

Medic… was that a rank, or just a description? I assumed the leather bag dangling from his left hand had first aid supplies in it -- hopefully some high-powered painkillers.

“What’s the story here?” The newcomer’s gaze shifted from Ace to me and back again. “Last I heard, you were single. Suddenly you have a woman with a gunshot wound bleeding on your sofa at two in the morning?”

Ace pointed to me with his chin. “Emma. Used to date my little brother. Saw some guy get popped in the park, and the shooter took a few potshots at her. Just a flesh wound, I think. It needs to be cleaned up, and probably some stitches.”

Joker’s eyebrows shot up. Ignoring me, he asked, “As in Merrymen Park?”

“That’s the one,” I confirmed.

Joker frowned. “Inside Riptide territory.”

Ace nodded. “I’m getting Rattler to check it out, make sure there’s no dead bodies hanging around.

We don’t need to have the cops all riled up before we know what’s going on.

Could be a one-off thing or could be another club trying to move into our territory.

From Emma’s description, sounds more like an execution than a random shooting. ”

“I’d better get this gal patched up ASAP, then.” Joker moved toward me. “Does the shooter know she’s here with you?”

Both bikers turned their attention to me, and I shrugged, immediately regretting it when pain lanced through my side.

“I don’t know. I just ran. I could hear them behind me, but I’m not sure if they saw where I went or just heard noise in the bushes and followed the general direction.

They know where I work, though. I heard the one guy tell the shooter he recognized me from one of the bars.

It wouldn’t take long to check out all the bars within walking distance of the park. ”

Joker eyed up my side. “The bullet pushed material into the wound. I’m going to need you to take off your shirt so I can clean that properly.”

“Ummm…” I gaped up at Ace wildly. I did not want to strip half-naked in front of a couple of bikers.

“My mistake. Didn’t realize that would be an issue.” A mischievous smile lit up Joker’s face. “I take it you two are not in a see-each-other-naked kind of relationship?”

“Shut it,” said Ace.

“You have a towel or something she can use to cover up with, Prez? I really do need her to take that shirt off.”

Ace stalked off down the hallway. He came back with a towel and motioned Joker to move away from me. Ignoring the medic, he held the towel up like a big screen. “Get your top off. Bra too. Let me know when you’re ready and I’ll drape this over you.”

Wow. A gentleman biker. I doubted I’d get this much consideration if I’d gone to the emergency room. More likely, some overworked nurse would have told me to suck it up and get over myself.

Taking my shirt off proved to be more difficult than I’d anticipated. Raising my left arm past my shoulder hurt like hell, pulling the wound on my side tight. After a few unsuccessful attempts, I realized this was not a one-woman job.

“Ace?”

“Yeah. You done?”

“Um. No. I think you’ll have to cut it off me. I can’t raise my arm high enough and there’s not enough stretch in it for me to just pull it over my head. Plus, it’s sticking to all that blood. Pulling it off is going to hurt even more than it already does.”

He peeked over the top of the towel. “You sure you want to do that?”

“It’s not like I’m going to be wearing this shirt out to dinner any time soon.”

“Right. I’ll go find something to cut it with.”

The towel came down, and Ace headed toward the kitchen.

“So.” Joker took a seat beside me. “You and Ace aren’t an item?”

I shook my head. “No.”

“I’m currently single as well.” He grinned suggestively.

“Knock it off.” Ace returned, a wicked-looking knife in his hand. “She’s not here looking for a hookup.”

Joker’s eyes twinkled, and he smirked knowingly. “Thought so.” He eyed up the knife. “I realize you’re trying to impress her and all, but a pair of scissors would have worked just as well.”

“Don’t have any.” Ace shrugged. “The knife is sharp enough.”

“I’m sure it is. Be careful,” said Joker, serious now. “She’s lost enough blood already.”

“She’ll be okay, though? She doesn’t need a transfusion or anything?”

“Relax. It’s not as bad as it looks. Since we’re cutting the shirt, anyway, just chop off the side so I can dress the wound. That way we won’t have to worry about you being flashed with her titties.”

The glare Ace directed at the medic would have made me laugh if I wasn’t in so much pain. My antics in trying to get the shirt off had started the wound bleeding again and woke up every nerve along the gash. I gritted my teeth. “Can we just get on with it?”

Ace knelt down beside me. “Try to hold still and let me know if I’m hurting you.”

He used that knife like he’d been born with it, slicing the side of my shirt off without applying any pressure to the throbbing bullet wound. That probably should have scared me, but I was just grateful he managed it.

“Get me a pail of warm water, and some towels.” Joker rolled his sleeves up, his attention focused on my mangled side. “Rags if you have them. Bloodstains are murder to get out of fabric.” He winked at me. “Get it? Murder?”

“And now you know why we call him Joker.” Ace shook his head and headed down the hallway. “Despite all evidence to the contrary, he thinks he’s funny.”

“I’m going to give you a shot to freeze the area before I start. It should kick in pretty quick.” Now all business, Joker opened the leather satchel and pulled out a needle and a bottle of liquid. “I’m used to dealing with a bunch of gnarly old bikers. I’ll try to be gentle.”

I’m not sure what was in that bottle, but within minutes my side was numb. He worked fast, cleaning the wound and applying some type of ointment on it before adding a few butterfly bandages in the worst areas, then covering it all with a loose layer of gauze.

“That should do for now.” He shot a satisfied look at Ace.

“The biggest worry is infection, so I’m going to give her a shot of antibiotics just to be safe.

” He turned his attention back to me, administering the dose so smoothly I barely felt it.

“I’ll check the wound again tomorrow to make sure it’s starting to heal. Gunshot wounds can be tricky.”

He pulled out another bottle from his bag of tricks; this one containing pills.

“These are for pain. Take one every six hours, four hours if it gets really bad, but no more than that. The antibiotic shot I gave you is good for twenty-four hours. We’ll decide if you need another one when we see how well you heal. ”

He snapped the bag shut and turned to Ace. “You bringing her over to the clubhouse?”

“Damn right. Safest place for her.”

They were talking over my head, deciding my future as if I weren’t sitting right there. “Excuse me, but do I get a say in this?”

Ace turned that icy glare on me that I remembered so well from childhood. He’d used it every time he caught his brother and I doing something he didn’t approve of.

“No.”

* * *

Ace