Mayhem dauntless mc book.., p.12
Mayhem (Dauntless MC Book 3), page 12
The traffic was thick with men and women who needed their fix of drugs or sex. It wasn’t a good place to jump from the van in masks and start shooting. “What the hell is he doing?” Preacher said through gritted teeth. “If he doesn’t want to get pulled over, why come downtown? It doesn’t make any sense. This place is crawling with cops.”
“No rhyme or reason,” Tiny answered. “Just stay focused.”
Preacher shot Tiny a dirty look but didn’t say anything.
The van plowed through the traffic that was no longer bottlenecked and made a U-turn towards the ramp that would lead to the interstate. Preacher followed like it was no big deal—now, he was in his element.
It was too good to be true; the interstate was empty. As if reading Preacher’s mind, Tiny grabbed his phone and texted one word: now. They had anticipated the schedule being late but not early. The circumstances were too perfect. Preacher watched in slow motion as the other van plowed through a small dirt path that led them to the other side of the interstate. The motion was smooth enough to not hit the front of the van when it skidded sideways—it was perfect for heading off Chito when the other van pulled behind them. Chito was trapped. His feelings of paranoia had been right. He wasn’t crazy because he killed a woman. He didn’t want to die; he thought he did but now that he was being faced with the reality of it the will to live had kicked in.
Chito jumped from the van at the same time the back doors of the van flew open as if the move had been synchronized. It wasn’t fast enough, though. Bullets flew through the air like a plague of locusts. Chito felt the slam of a sledgehammer in his chest and then the blooming heat of the bullet. The men in the back of the van were down but sporadic bullets were still flying.
Roderick felt the impact of a bullet near his chest. There was no pain, yet; it was time to fight now and heal later. He unloaded on the men in the back; the impact of bullets from all the brothers in the club firing on Chito’s men killed them.
Tiny and Preacher scrambled into the van, grabbing bags of money and coke as Roderick stood bleeding and keeping guard with Nitro.
“Hurry up, people. We’ve got traffic coming,” Nitro screamed out in warning. When the haul had been secured all the men returned to their vans and left as quickly as possible.
Nitro picked up his phone and dialed the other men in the van, “Take a different route home. We’ll meet you there. Roderick’s been shot so I’m having the doctor meet us at the clubhouse.” The man in the other van hung up.
“Roderick got hit. The doctor’s meeting us there,” Scooter said.
“We can’t take him to the hospital?” one of the brothers asked.
“No way, they’ll call the cops. All gunshot wounds have to be reported—it’s the law.”
“I hope like hell he’s a good doctor.”
“I’ve seen him put back brothers who looked like a fucking jigsaw puzzle—he’s the best,” Scooter smiled as he reminisced about the time that he’d seen the doctor work his magic. Having a doctor on hand was a must. The man got paid very well for breaking the law. It wasn’t easy to find a doctor who wasn’t a hack, but they’d managed. For some reason, the doctor liked to live vicariously through the bikers. It was his way of staying straight and still having all the excitement of riding with the brothers. It worked well for all concerned.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Dr. Feel Good paced the room that was made to be an operating room in the clubhouse. He’d taken the room and made an exact replica of a hospital operating room. The only thing he didn’t have was other surgeons and nurses to help save the wounded. Many times, he used the bikers and walked them through what to do. They worked out well because no amount of blood and guts affected them—most were intrigued by it and asked to be used again when the next casualty came along. Some sick part of them craved violence, and when that wasn’t available, an operating room would do.
He hoped Roderick wasn’t hurt, too badly. He liked the guy. Chest wounds were never good—too many variables—too many vital organs. The doctor glanced down at his watch; time was of the essence. He undid his watchband and placed it on a small table, then his wedding ring. He checked the small stainless table next to the operating table to ensure everything was there. The table held forceps, tweezers, sutures, iodine, gauze, and a needle holder. Finally, he heard the van pull up because of the frantic beeping. He grabbed the biker on standby with the gurney and rushed out to save a life.
“On the count of three, boys,” the doctor yelled when the van doors were open. They rushed Roderick back to the operating room and went through the process again to get him on the operating table. The men stood back and waited for instructions while the doctor cut through his t-shirt. He was glad Roderick wasn’t wearing his kutte. He’d hate to have to cut through that and deal with the consequences. He knew better than to cut a member’s kutte. A patient better be dying if you disrespected those colors in any way.
“The first thing we have to do is get this blood cleaned off so we can see where the wound is,” the doctor said to no one in particular. He often talked to himself as he worked. He figured it was a habit he’d adopted due to training interns at the hospital. By all outward appearances, he was a straitlaced surgeon who walked the line. People would be shocked if they knew what he was doing to get his kids through college and pay off his wife’s hospital bills due to her bought with breast cancer. Years ago, he would have sworn he would never do anything illegal, but time and circumstance had changed his prerogatives. He loved his family more than anything, so he didn’t view what he was doing as wrong.
He poured iodine over Roderick’s chest and began wiping blood away. He blew out a heavy gust of breath, “This is good. It isn’t so much a chest wound as it is a mid-shoulder wound. Help me turn him over.” After looking at his back, the doctor could see it wasn’t a through and through. Would have been better if it was a through and through but this is doable.
One of the bikers had already started an IV and the doctor administered morphine. “Let’s hope this wound isn’t too deep. We’ve got to get this bullet out before it starts travelling.”
“Oh my God! Roderick, Roderick.”
Scooter rushed out to get Jewel before she burst into the room. The panic in her voice was heartbreaking. He’d been friends with the couple for years and knew how much they loved each other. It made the panic in her voice hit him in his gut like a sledgehammer. He could feel her pain.
“Oh, my God, a chest wound? Is he alive?” Jewels sobbed as she fell into Scooter’s arms.
“It isn’t a chest wound, it’s a superficial shoulder wound,” he said to make it sound less dangerous and life-threatening. Jewel’s body melted into Scooter. He could feel the relief come off her in waves.
“He kept saying he didn’t feel good about this job. He was right. I should have listened. You know he only did this to buy me a house. I can’t live without him, Scooter. This is all my fault. Why didn’t I stop him? All I could think about was this being the last job.”
Scooter awkwardly patted her back in an effort to soothe her frayed nerves. They all knew this was part of the lifestyle. Scooter and Jewel looked up as Harley and King came running in.
“Mom, how is dad doing?”
“It isn’t a chest wound. Scooter said it’s a shoulder wound so he’ll be okay.”
“Oh, thank God.” Harley breathed a sigh of relief and hugged King. She couldn’t imagine her life without her dad, either.
“He did this job to buy me a house,” Jewel repeated. “He had a bad feeling about it from the beginning. He just kept saying it was the last job that got you. I thought he was just being paranoid. I never would have let him go if I’d have thought he’d be shot. I don’t care about a new house. I want my husband.” Sure… every woman wanted a house, but years ago Jewel had let go of worldly goods to be with her husband and she could do it again. She and Harley were first and foremost in his life and she would never take advantage of that.
The doctor came out removing his mask like some TV doctor approaching the family to give them an update.
“We got the bullet out. It was deep but it wasn’t a chest wound. A couple of days of rest and relaxation and he’ll be as good as new. The main thing we need to watch out for is infection; of course, there will be therapy to ensure mobility in the shoulder. I’ll show him the exercises he needs to do, and you’ll have to help him, Jewel.
Jewel was bobbing her head up and down, willing to agree to anything if it meant her man would survive this job.
The doctor looked at the women with compassion-filled eyes, “You can go in and see him now.” He smiled. It was the best part of the job to be able to tell the family they could go in to see a patient. Losing a patient was never easy but killing a biker was scary. That’s how the brothers would see the death of one of their own.
The women rushed off towards the room.
Both women couldn’t help but laugh when they viewed Preacher dancing around Roderick in a mask and surgical gloves.
“I’m gonna take out your little black heart and replace it with a pussy pink one.”
“Oh God, don’t make me laugh,” Roderick begged. “It hurts to laugh, man. Give me a break.”
Jewel eased over beside Roderick as if she feared walking too hard on the wooden surface beneath her feet.
“Baby, I should have listened to you. I thought you were just being paranoid. I feel terrible.”
“I can buy you a house, babe; even gonna have a room for you, Harley. A place you can come to when you fight with King.”
King laughed, “We never fight, but the thought’s nice.”
“I should hit you, Roderick,” Jewel scowled. “I gave up the dream of a house a long time ago. You better be glad you didn’t die, or I’d kill you again.” She leaned down and kissed his cheek, “I love you, Roderick. I always have, and I always will.”
“I love you too, babe, and I’m buying you a house, a dog, and anything else you want. I’m not letting this bullet wound be for nothing. Every time I look at it, I’m going to remember how you gave up everything to be with me.”
“Why?” she asked, confused.
“Because I made a promise to myself years ago and because you believed in me, I was able to make it come to pass. You won’t have to listen to sirens and gunshots, anymore. We’re going to finally get our happily-ever-after, babe.”
In a matter of moments, Roderick’s room had turned into a party. The doctor stood close to the bed administering morphine and forbidding anyone to give the patient any drugs or alcohol. These guys were crazy enough to mix drugs and alcohol with morphine and the doctor was determined Roderick wouldn’t die by an OD.
The bikers gathered around the bed, insisting the physician take the bandage off so they could see the gunshot wound up close and personal. Knife wounds and gunshot wounds were always intriguing, no matter how many you’d seen before them. Each one was different and considered a work of art in the men’s eyes.
Roderick got a serious look on his face as he spoke—the room got silent as the words sliced through the air ringing truth like a church bell announcing services. “Four men died today—thank God none of them were ours. I got shot, but I’m blessed it was nothing more than a flesh wound. I think we need to lay low for a while. I don’t want out, anymore, but I do want a break and I think you guys need one, too. If we’re going to keep the heat off us, we need to hang around the clubhouse and the strip joint. I think the Colombians will think the Sinaloans are responsible. We’ve got enough money to make it so let’s just spend our time house shopping. Maybe we can find some acreage and put modular homes on it. We could all have our own refuge together; like a community, and then we could semi-retire.”
Festivity wafted through the air along with cigarette smoke and smoke from the joints being passed around. Everybody in the club was happy. They’d pulled off an impossible job. They were a team forged in blood and violence and this job bound them together more. It was a lifestyle. They were a family. Life was good.
Epilogue
Jewel smiled, looking up at her husband from where she was digging in her flower garden.
“I’ve got what you need to make your little garden grow.” Roderick dropped his kutte on the ground and took his shirt off. She watched him as he kicked out of his boots and took his pants off.
“Commando,” he smirked. “Makes it easier to fuck you.”
He bent down and lifted the dirt stained t-shirt over her head. He wiggled her out of her jeans and pulled them down over her bare feet.
“Commando,” he said, smiling at her when he saw she didn’t have on underwear, either.
“Makes it easier to get fucked by my husband.”
“Only your husband,” he growled as he pushed into her.
She felt like heaven wrapped around cotton candy goodness.
“I love you, woman.”
“I love you, too, husband.”
His hips began to move as he studied each intricate line of her face. It felt good to give the woman who had stood by him when he had nothing a house—he’d done what he promised. He pushed down into her as deeply as he could and began rotating his hips in a circular motion.
She could feel the fire building in her lower belly. Her husband knew her body as well as she did. It was like going up a rollercoaster until you plummeted down into the fear. Her body rocked as she climaxed. She could feel him releasing his seed into her.
“It never gets old, baby girl.”
“It better not. We’re going to grow old together. He grabbed some baby wipes he’d stashed in his kutte and cleaned them both up.
“Hurry up and get dressed. I just heard a bike pull up and nobody gets to see your naked ass but me.”
That got her moving quicker. They were having a cookout with the rest of the community. They’d been successful buying forty-five acres and putting modular homes on it. The modular homes were as beautiful as any home they could have bought—each one picked out by its owner and made personal by their decorating touch.
They held hands as they went around to the front and met Tiny and Raven.
“We’re early. I’ve been cleaning and cooking since this morning,” Raven said.
“She can’t stand to come home to a dirty house,” Tiny rolled his eyes.
“Don’t you just love our houses, Jewel?” Raven screeched.
“Absolutely. I was just out-front finishing my flower garden.”
The door opened and Red ran out with Blazer; Suit’s son. Suit and Traje had had puppies and given each of the members on the compound one. Nitro and Chandler hadn’t been able to resist keeping one of the boys. After that, they got them all fixed. If they didn’t, there was going to be puppies everywhere and not enough bikers to give them to.
Traje danced around in circles and herded the crew into the house. It would be a night of celebrating family. Yes… life was good on the Dauntless MC front.
The end… for now.
These books and more are available on Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Suzanne-Steele/e/B00C9L6YRQ
Suzanne Steele, Mayhem (Dauntless MC Book 3)
