Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 72553 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 363(@200wpm)___ 290(@250wpm)___ 242(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72553 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 363(@200wpm)___ 290(@250wpm)___ 242(@300wpm)
“No, I’m far from happy,” I grumbled as I glanced over at the man Danny had shot. “Doesn’t look like your friend is all that happy either. You might want to call an ambulance or something before he bleeds out.”
“Rafe!” I watched as he rushed over to the man. “You all right, brother?”
“Yeah, it’s just a flesh wound,” Rafe answered as he clung to his wounds.
“You sure about that? You’re losing a lot of blood.”
They both looked up at me like I’d lost my ever-loving mind when I stepped towards them and said, “Let me at least see what you’re dealing with.”
“Fuck that! You stand over there and keep your fucking mouth shut.”
I should’ve done what he said, but Danny’s life was on the line. If Rafe died, they would more than likely kill him or he could end up in jail for murder. Neither of those seemed like a good option, so I pushed, “I’m a nurse ... I can help if you let me.”
“I told you to keep your fucking mouth shut!”
“Come on, Shotgun. Won’t do any harm for her to have a look.”
Rafe and Shotgun weren’t your typical nicknames, but as I stood there watching the two men interact with one another, I realized there wasn’t anything typical about either one of them. Shotgun looked far from pleased as he glanced over to me and ordered, “Fine, but make it fast.”
Hearing his fierce tone made me regret my offer, but considering the present situation, I had no other choice. I went over and knelt down beside them, carefully lifting his t-shirt so I could get a better look at his injuries. While it looked pretty gruesome, the wound on his abdomen was just a deep graze, slicing the guy’s flesh just above his hip with an angry black burn. The second bullet, on the other hand, had actually pierced through his upper chest next to his shoulder. Needing to get a better look, I asked, “Can you lean forward so I can see if there’s an exit wound?”
Rafe nodded, then grimaced as he lifted himself up, giving me better access to his back. After just a few seconds, he asked, “How’s it look?”
“You got lucky. The bullet went straight through, but you need to get to a hospital.”
“Not a chance.”
“What? Why not?”
“’Cause I fucking said so,” he snapped.
“Fine. Do what you want, but we need to slow down this bleeding.” I got up and rushed to the bathroom. After I grabbed a couple of towels, I hurried back into the living room and offered them to his friend. “Here, use these to apply pressure to the wounds.”
Glaring at me like I’d been the one who’d pulled the trigger, he jerked the towels from my hand and placed them on Rafe’s chest, doing his best to get the bleeding under control. “We need to get you back to the clubhouse. You think you can walk, or do you need me to—”
“I can walk, ’Gun,” Rafe interrupted. “Just gonna need you to get me to my feet.”
I watched silently as he helped Rafe up. Once he was standing, Shotgun turned his attention to Danny. He gave him a hard kick to the side as he growled, “Get up, asshole.”
“Hey!” I scolded as I rushed over to Danny, shielding him with my body. “What’s your problem?”
“And what the fuck is it to you?”
“He’s my brother.”
“Your brother?” he asked sounding surprised.
“Yes, my brother!” I looked down at Danny, giving him a gentle shake as I asked softly, “Hey ... Are you okay?”
Without giving him a chance to answer, Shotgun asked, “You got any idea what kind of trouble he’s gotten himself into?”
“No, I have no idea, but I seriously doubt you killing each other is going to solve anything.” I gave him another nudge as I pleaded, “Come on, Danny. Wake up.”
His eyes finally fluttered open, and he groaned when he found me kneeling next to him. “You were supposed to stay in the bedroom, Delilah.”
“Guess she didn’t want to miss out on the party.” Shotgun reached down and grabbed Danny by the arm, jerking him to his feet. He yanked his hands behind his back, and as he bound his wrists together with a zip-tie, he snarled, “Let’s go, Danny boy. We have some business to tend to.”
“Wait! You can’t just take him like this. That’s kidnapping!” I shouted. “I’ll call the police and—”
“Hate to break it to you, sweet cheeks,” Shotgun growled as he released Danny and grabbed me, pulling my arms behind my back and zip-tying my wrists together like he’d done Danny’s, “but you’re not calling anybody.”
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” I barked.
“I’m taking you with us.”
“The hell you say!” I jolted to the side, trying to break free from his grasp, but I simply wasn’t strong enough. “Let me go or I’ll scream!”