Should have told my boss that I wouldn’t swing by his old stomping ground to help cover a staffing shortage his friend was experiencing. It seemed convenient. Stay in Baton Rouge until the storm passes, then head down to the coast where they’ll need me most.
Now I’m here, and I can’t tell if the biker looking at me wants to eat me, fuck me, or kill me.
“For a little guy, you sure know your way around bone,” Butcher grunts.
“For a guy named Butcher, you sure do complain a lot.” I press the fresh bandage against his thigh, maybe a little harder than necessary, and he growls at me.
I always liked riling up a guy bigger than me. I don’t know why. I know I don’t have a death wish, but it’s fun, and usually, bigger guys won’t pick on me. I’m sure my luck will run out soon, but until then, I’m going to poke every single bear.
And giggle as I run away.
“Okay. I’ll just say it was an accident and that no one got shot, or we’d have to report it to the police, and I don’t feel like staying here longer than necessary. Not that your hospitality isn’t… wonderful,” I add, only to sound more like a jerk.
The big guy, the one that wears the patch that says Prez, laughs as he strokes his chin with his fingers. “You’re welcome back anytime, Ryan. We appreciate your willingness to… cooperate.” He reaches into his cut pocket—I learned they weren’t vests after being corrected a few years ago—and pulls out a stack of money.
Here’s the thing about bricks of cash like this: it’s most likely illegal money. Maybe it’s drug money or blood money, but honestly? I don’t really care. I have student loan debt to pay.
I pluck the cash out of his hand and tuck it into my paramedic bag. “It’s been a pleasure doing business with you.” I give them a mock salute and swallow down my nerves as I wade through the very large bodies covered in leather.
Now that I’m looking at them, I can’t help but wonder if they’re going to let me leave. Maybe I’ll get lucky. Perhaps they’ll want to take turns with my body and ravish me. I might be a smart man, but I’m still a man, and somehow these bikers get better looking with each state I end up in.
Ah, a man can dream, can’t he?
Lye, according to his patch on his vest—I mean, cut—opens the door for me.
Once I’m outside, I take a deep breath and don’t bother looking back. Of course, the quicker I get out of here, the better.
“Hey!”
A deep voice with a twangy edge has me freezing mid-step next to the rig, and I try not to panic. Did one of the guys see me check them out? I didn’t. I think I kept my eyes to myself. I thrust my shoulders back and open the doors to the rig to toss the medical bag inside. I close the left side and see the most handsome man I’ve seen in my entire life. I suck in a breath—no—he stole my ability to breathe, looking as good as he does.
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