Page 79 of StoryTeller's Tale

He’s shown me enough of himself to know that I’d be a fool to not grab on to what he’s offering with both hands.

“You want a top up?” Jasmine approaches with another soda for me, which I gratefully accept.

“How much longer do you think they’ll be?”

As I ask, she rolls her eyes. “Minutes, hours, who can tell?” She grins easily. “But when they come out, I warn you, it will probably get wild.”

Even her warning doesn’t bother me. I’ve seen enough of these men to know they are not like the Dominators. Sure, their partying can get a bit much for my inexperienced eyes, but I can’t forget they all took a risk to take Knuckles down. And while I was worried, they’ve been nothing but respectful and friendly to me.

Jasmine sits down and takes a welcome breather, leaning back and closing her eyes. I sit quietly, allowing myself to picture a life with Jake and a redheaded child. I’m daydreaming when a voice interrupts.

“Hey. You. You’re wanted.”

Hearing a voice, I look up, then around, suspecting it’s Jasmine being summoned. When I see the eyes of the speaker looking my way, I point to myself. “You talking to me?”

“Yeah. This way.”

I glance over at Jasmine who I’ve noticed is listening, but she just inclines her head as though to say I should go along with it. So I stand and make my way over to the man who indicates I should follow him. I feel a bit on edge until he stops outside the door where Jake and I slept last night. When he opens it, I step inside.

“Fuck. Be careful, will you?” Jake is exclaiming as I walk in.

“What’s going on?” I ask, my heart rising into my throat as I try to analyse what I’m seeing. “My God, Jake. What’s happened?” Jake is sitting on the bed, his top half-naked, blood covering his chest—he even has some on his face and hair, and more, looking fresher, freely running down his arm and soaking into a towel lying underneath. Mex is hovering over him with a needle and thread.

“Jake?” I exclaim, trying to assess how badly he’s hurt.

But neither of them acknowledges my presence.

“Don’t be a baby,” the small biker tells him with a snarl.

Jake flinches away. “I’d do better to sew myself up than the hash you’re making of it.”

He doesn’t sound like he’s at death’s door. Moving closer, I get a better idea of what’s happening. Jake has got a nasty-looking gash along his bicep which certainly does need stitches, and though there’s lots of blood, he has no other obvious wounds. One stitch has already been put in, and as Mex is holding the needle, I assume he’s the one who’s done it. It’s also clear to see that Jake isn’t enamoured of him doing anymore. Though, clearly, his wound needs closing.

“Want me to give it a go?” I tentatively ask.

“Fuck, darlin’.” Jake looks up, his brow furrowed and his eyes creasing. “I didn’t want you to see me until I’d washed the blood off.”

Mex, however, dramatically sighs and hands me the implements he’s holding. “Have at it. He’s a real fuckin’ baby.”

“Whoa.” Jake sees our interaction and holds his good hand up. “Mex might be a butcher, but, Sheri, baby, have you any idea what you’re doing?”

“I sew my clothes,” I tell him drily. “How much harder can it be?”

His eyes narrow until they become slits. “You’re not squeamish?”

Looking at the needle I took from Mex, I check it’s threaded, then eye up the gash. There’s one stitch in already so I get the idea what I need to do. Knowing I’m going to hurt him however gentle I am, I start talking to distract him.

“No, I’m not squeamish.” Though I have to admit, pushing a needle through skin is very different to a piece of material. I bite my lip as I concentrate, pulling the thread through and tying it off as Mex indicates I need to. “I’ve cleaned up more puke, vomit and even blood then I ever wanted to when nursing my mom.”

“The mom who didn’t want you.” Jake flinches but doesn’t object as I tackle the next stitch. He comments, “You’re good at this,” while Mex huffs.

“It made me want to be a nurse.”

“Why didn’t you?” Jake tries to swing round, but I position him where I want him again.

I snort. “I didn’t finish school, remember? No GED, and definitely no chance of college.”

“She’d make a fuckin’ good nurse. Be good for the club,” Mex tells Jake, looking at me thoughtfully.

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