Page 4 of Road Rash

“Here,” I yell to the skinny kid wearing an Outcasts prospect patch. He drops down next to me and as I move my hands away, he moves his into place putting pressure back on Drake’s wound so I can run to Jonesie.

“She breathin’?” I bark at the guy next to her. When he doesn’t answer fast enough, I bark again. “She breathin’?”

“Yeah—breathing.”

I shove him out of the way by falling to my knees next to her, my hands roaming her entire body. “Jonesie… Jonesie, baby, talk to me.”

The only injuries I can find are a cut on her head, one on her knee—both bleeding—and a fuckin’ goose egg under the bleeding cut. Some bruising where she hit.

Tears falling from her eyes, she opens them. Soft and brown. They narrow in on mine. “You’re okay, baby.” I keep repeating it. “You’re okay.” I think it’s more to reassure myself than to calm her. She pushes up, wobbles, and as she begins to fall backward, I catch her. She wraps her arms around my waist burying her bloody head against my chest, soaking my shirt with her tears. It’s more than I can deal with and press a kiss to the top of her head. It’s the first kiss I’ve ever given her and it’s like a dam breaks inside me. All the emotion, all the years of longing for this woman…

She’s mine.

She’s fucking mine.

Age be damned.

The sheriff, six deputies, and the two sheriff’s department EMTs—ambulance and cruiser—arrive on the scene pushing bikers and townies back to get to their injured and set up a crime scene. While the EMTs work on Brandi and Drake, one of the deputies walks over to us. He squats down in front of Jonesie.

“Not shot?” he asks.

“She’s not shot,” I answer for her.

He glares at me. “Need her to answer.”

The fuck? Can’t he see she’s been traumatized? She’s crying, shaking, and bleeding.

“What’s your name, sweetheart?” he asks her in a calming tone.

She doesn’t answer. She doesn’t even look at him.

“Jackson,” he calls out presumably to one of the EMTs. “Got a possible head injury over here.”

“Possible?” I bark. “You can’t see the fucking blood?”

The deputy shoots me a sort of will you shut up look and sighs. “I mean possible serious head injury. Jackson knows I mean possible serious head injury. This is how we work.”

Yeah, yeah… I’ve got to calm the fuck down, but two of my friends have been shot and I’ve got Jonesie’s blood on me.

A man in black cargo pants with strips of reflective tape sewn over the cargo pockets runs over to us carrying medical equipment. This is Jackson. I’m not clairvoyant. That’s what his shirt says. “Go assist Davies,” he directs the deputy. “Gunshots are getting ready to roll out. Waiting on additional ambulance. ETA twenty minutes out.”

As the deputy runs to assist Davies, Jackson begins his assessment of Jonesie. Checking every bit of her over. “Okay,” he says softly to the woman still nuzzling against my chest. “Your vitals are strong but I’m concerned about your head. We’re going to send you along in the ambulance once it gets here.”

Jonesie’s fingers grip my shirt, biting into my skin while she clings to me. I press another kiss to the top of her head. “Not leaving you, baby,” I whisper against her hair. “I’ll be right by your side the whole time.”

With lights flashing and sirens blazing, I watch the ambulance speed away with Drake and Brandi inside. And then we wait for what feels like forever for the hospital ambulance to reach us.

Jackson waves them over to us. He updates the new team on Jonesie’s stats while they load her up onto a gurney. I refuse to let go of her hand. Once they have her loaded, I realize that if I’m going to get us home, I’m going to need my truck.

“Baby,” I whisper. “I need to get my truck. Can’t get us home otherwise.” She squeezes my hand. “Please tell me it’s okay, Jonesie. I can’t leave you if it’s not.”

Her pained eyes find mine and she blinks at the same time she barely nods. I kiss her forehead and back out, running back inside the bar to grab my keys and lock up. Of all the cuts I notice hanging around while I push my way back through the throngs of gawkers to the bar, everyone trying to figure out what the hell happened here tonight, the cuts I don’t notice belong to the Horde. Those bastards are nowhere in sight and I don’t have the time or the headspace to determine if they ain’t here because they took off to their campsite earlier or because they were responsible for this attack.

Anything that don’t get closed down properly tonight we’ll take care of tomorrow. Hastily I lock the day’s take in the safe and lock the office, then shut down the lights. I lock the front door behind me and run for my truck.

I end up a bit behind the ambulance in the beginning. But while driving the dark stretch of road, the horrible thought hits me that they might not tell me anything if I don’t get there with her. It may or may not be an irrational thought, but it’s rational enough to me to slam down the accelerator until I’m flying down the highway.

Ain’t no sheriff’s deputy to pull me over as they’re all back working the crime scene. Before long I’m within sight of those flashing red ambulance lights.

---