Page 15 of Blackbeard (Blackjacks MC #2)

Chapter nine

Blackbeard

Urgent whispers cut through the cobwebs of sleep, dragging me into consciousness.

“You have to wake him up.”

“Hell no. You do it.”

“You’re the one who’s bleeding all over his kitchen.”

I groaned at the mention of blood and pushed myself up into a sitting position. My brain sparked into crisis mode.

“Dude, if we don’t get you stitched up, you’re going to lose your fingers,” one voice hissed.

“I know! Okay? I know, stop saying that.”

“It just looks really bad.”

“You’re freaking me out.”

“Well, I’m not doing it on purpose. But it’s going to be fine. Uncle Diego will know what to do. He’s really good with stuff like this.”

I recognized those voices—my brother’s boys, Mario and Bodhi. At fourteen and sixteen years old, it seemed trouble followed my nephews around town everywhere they went.

Rising to my feet, I softened my footsteps as I strode from the living room and rounded the corner, entering the kitchen.

Mario and Bodhi stood at the sink, running Bodhi’s hand under the faucet. The water flowed red from a laceration across his palm.

I was beginning to regret the open-door policy I had with my family.

Everyone had a copy of my house key, so they could freely come and go whenever they wanted to.

It wasn’t unusual for my abuela to show up and make breakfast for me.

Or a few cousins would crash in my living room for the weekend, just to get away from their siblings and parents.

“What the fuck are you two doing?” I barked.

Bodhi flinched and flashed a sheepish grin.

“Oh, hey, Uncle Diego. We were just…”

“Bleeding all over my kitchen,” I said in a flat voice. “I heard. What happened?”

Mario gestured at Bodhi and stepped back, allowing me to take a look at his younger brother’s hand.

“We were skateboarding on our way to school when Bodhi fell. Sliced his palm open on a piece of glass.”

“Jesus,” I mumbled under my breath, examining the cut on Bodhi’s palm. It was deep, nearly to the bone. “Do you have something against taking the bus?”

Mario glanced away. Bodhi fidgeted in place and shrugged, avoiding my gaze. Clearly something was going on and they didn’t want to tell me about it.

“You boys better not be lying to me,” I said. “Mario, get my medical kit. It’s in my saddlebags, on my bike.”

“Yes, sir.”

He darted off, disappearing through the doorway.

I fixed my attention on Bodhi and angled my head to the side until I managed to meet his eye.

“Come on, spit it out.”

He sighed and hedged for several seconds.

“Some of the kids on the bus make fun of me because I’m chubby,” he said. “One group of boys held me down and wrote…mean things…all over my body in permanent marker. It took forever to scrub it off. My skin felt raw for days.”

“How long has this been going on?” I prompted, concerned.

Bodhi ducked his head and shrugged.

“Ever since I started high school. Mario tries to stop them, but…sometimes, that just makes it worse.”

I clenched my teeth and blew out a breath.

Smoothing my hand down Bodhi’s hair, I kissed the top of his head.

I knew what it was like to be the chubby kid on the playground, picked on and bullied.

Even though I lost the weight in my early twenties, the scars of those memories still burned sometimes.

I hated seeing my nephew go through the same thing.

Mario returned a moment later, handing my medical kit to me. I kept the small duffle bag packed, prepped, fully stocked and ready to go for emergencies at all times. I got plenty of use out of it between my family and the club.

Digging into my kit, I pulled out everything I needed—needle and thread, gauze, disinfectant, and painkillers. My phone buzzed in my back pocket while I cleaned Bodhi’s hand. He winced, biting his lip to keep quiet.

“Hang in there, buddy,” I said. “I’ll make this as quick as possible, I promise.”

Retrieving my phone, I glanced at the screen.

Big G.

I answered it, tucking the phone against my shoulder to hold it in place while I worked.

“Hey, what’s up?”

“How are you enjoying married life so far?” Big G replied with amusement in his tone.

I snorted.

“Stressful. There are times when my blushing bride looks at me, and I swear she’s plotting to kill me in my sleep.”

Big G chuckled.

“So your average marriage then.”

“Very funny. Is that what you called about? To gloat?”

“No, actually. But I saw the opportunity to get my kicks and couldn’t help myself.”

“I’m hanging up now,” I said drily.

“Okay, okay, hold on a second,” Big G relented.

“I called because Hot Shot needs a hand cleaning up his garage, making minor repairs, things like that. Half of his mechanics quit after the shootout, so he’s short staffed.

Baby Doll and Gatling ordered building supplies for the bigger fixes—new windows, sheet metal—but they haven’t been shipped yet.

So, we’re only covering the basics for now. ”

I patted Bodhi’s hand dry with a paper towel and began threading my needle.

Bodhi grimaced with dread. Mario pulled up a chair and gestured for him to sit.

They might bicker and tease each other relentlessly, but Abuela had impressed on them at a young age how important it was to look after your family, and they took that message to heart.

“Say when and I’ll be there,” I said.

“We’re eating first and hoping to start work by noon today. Tex is bringing breakfast. Credence has ice and drinks covered. We’re turning it into an unofficial party.”

“Fine by me. On one condition.”

“Name your price,” Big G replied.

I glanced at Mario and Bodhi, watching me expectantly. Every bone in my body ached to protect them, defend them. I couldn’t fight their battles for them though. And I couldn’t stomach the thought of forcing them to get back on that bus.

“Bring the cage around to my place. My nephews need a ride to school.”

Mario and Bodhi stared at me in shock. Then Mario grabbed Bodhi’s shoulders, shaking him with excitement. Bodhi fist pumped with his good hand.

“Sure thing,” Big G said. “Should I bring along spare cuts to deck them out in Blackjack colors too?”

I chuckled, picturing how cool Mario and Bodhi would feel, showing up to school in the Blackjack van, wearing biker cuts, with Big G behind the wheel—tattoo sleeves, salt-and-pepper hair and beard, a slick-looking bastard who turned heads everywhere he went.

It might make those bullies think twice about picking on my nephew.

Sure, I could drive Mario and Bodhi to school in my truck and make my presence known when I dropped them off. Letting everyone see that my nephews had a cool uncle to back them up.

But riding with Big G, wearing Blackjack cuts, marked them as rebels. It sent the message that these boys ran with a tough crowd of bikers. In my experience, people gave you a wide berth after that.

“Sounds perfect,” I said.

“No problem. I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

As soon as I hung up, Mario and Bodhi couldn’t contain their excitement anymore. They let out whoops of delight that echoed in the kitchen.

“Quiet down,” I said with a laugh. “You’ll wake the neighbors. And Leigh. It’s early. She’s still sleeping.”

They exchanged a look between them. Bodhi chewed the inside of his cheek. Mario elbowed him in the ribs, snickering. Bodhi swatted him with a hiss.

I shook my head and lightly grasped Bodhi’s hand, beginning to stitch up the cut in his palm. He sucked in a sharp breath at the first pierce of the needle.

“Is there something else you boys need to tell me?” I demanded.

Mario shrugged.

“We were just…well, Abuela won’t stop talking about your wife. And Bodhi is jealous that you married a redhead.”

Bodhi squawked in protest.

“Pendejo! That was supposed to be a secret! I’m never telling you anything ever again.”

I pressed my lips together to stop myself from laughing, focused on my task of creating one neat, tidy stitch after another. At least Bodhi’s indignation kept him distracted. And I didn’t blame him for his attraction to redheads.

“Now I understand why you stopped by,” I said. “Getting stitched up was just an excuse. You were hoping to catch a glimpse of my bride, is that right?”

“Abuela said that if we wanted to see your wife, we had to visit your house, because you never bring her around to meet your family,” Bodhi put in.

“Dios mio, Abuela,” I grumbled. I should have known she would waste no time piling on the guilt.

“Auntie Esperanza said she’s drop dead gorgeous,” Mario said.

“You bet your ass she is,” came a voice from the doorway.

Mario and Bodhi whipped their heads up as Leigh entered the room.

Wearing that damned silk robe that ended at mid-thigh.

Smooth, creamy skin, full breasts, rounded hips, and long legs.

Judging by the dark circles under her eyes, she probably had a hangover from hell.

Despite her tangled, frizzy bedhead, she was still a fucking vision.

“Hey, boys,” she purred. “I’m Leigh, Diego’s wife.”

“Hi,” Mario and Bodhi stammered out, slack-jawed.

She laughed softly and came up behind them, kissing first Bodhi’s cheek, then Mario’s cheek. Bodhi’s eyes went wide.

He was going to be thinking about that moment for the rest of his life.

“Leigh,” I said. “These are my nephews, Mario and Bodhi.”

“I’m the oldest,” Mario declared, proudly.

“But I’m smarter than him,” Bodhi announced, not to be overshadowed.

“Says who?” Mario scoffed.

“My report cards always look better than yours,” Bodhi argued.

Leigh smothered a laugh behind her hand.

“Well, you’re both equally handsome young men,” she said. Then she clucked her tongue and touched Bodhi’s hand as I finished the last stitch. “Oh, you poor thing,” she crooned. “Does it hurt?”

Bodhi blinked a few times like an owl. He shook his head emphatically and puffed out his chest, lifting his chin.

“No. I can’t feel a thing actually.”

Mario huffed and rolled his eyes.

“You cried like a baby when you saw all that blood.”

“I did not ,” Bodhi hissed with a scathing look.