Seeking Vengeance (2 page)

* * *

“Don't let the door slam; Kelsie's sleeping.” Molly Flynn led the way down the hall and turned into the kitchen. What had her brother gotten involved in this time? When would he learn that bikers were nothing but trouble? It was a lesson she had learned well and she just wished Johnny could learn from her mistakes instead of creating a whole slew of his own. She cringed at the noise the men made as they followed behind her, their boots loud enough to wake the dead as they clattered on the hardwood floor. The injured guy grunted and she heard Johnny whisper an apology.

She blew a few strands of hair out of her face as she gave thanks that Kelsie slept like a rock. Molly pulled a chair out from the table and angled it.
“Put him here, and Johnny, you need to grab a dishrag and clean up any blood on the floor.”

“
Okay, but then I have to go take Tuck back to the bar to get his bike.”

On her way to retrieve some items she needed,
Molly spun back to Johnny. “
What?
You're leaving?”

Johnny
wrung out a rag and shot her a guilty look. “I'll be back as soon as I can.”

Molly marched up to her brother, flicking a worried glance at the man in the chair as she
passed. The guy listed to the right and she hoped he wouldn't topple off the seat. She snagged the back of Johnny's collar. “Come here. I need to speak with you.”

“
But—”

“
Now
!” She led the way to the hallway and gave him a little shove. “Are you
crazy
?”

Johnny
's eyes widened. “What do you mean?”

“
You arrive on my doorstep late at night with some biker who was shot up in some kind of…of…
brawl
. You drop him off in my kitchen as if I run a twenty-four hour clinic and then think you can just
leave?
What am
I
supposed to do with him?”

At his blank lo
ok, she poked his shoulder with a stiffened pointer finger. “I have a six year-old daughter, in case you've forgotten.”

He shrugged.
“So?”

“
So?
That's all you can say? You bring a strange man in here and put us at risk? What were you
thinking
?”

“
I was thinking you're almost a doctor, and if anyone could help him, it'd be you.” He stared at the floor and shuffled his feet a few times but then raised his gaze, his eyes pleading. “He saved my life, Molls. What was I supposed to do?”

“
He saved your life?”

Johnny
twisted the rag in his hands and nodded. “A couple of Ravens showed up as we were leaving the bar. Sam yelled out a warning, and I looked up, but froze. He knocked me to the ground.”

That did put a different spin on the situation and added a sense of obligation. She hated obligations.
“Ravens?”

Nodding, Johnny added, “But don’t worry.
Snake wasn’t one of them.”

Molly shot a glance back into the kitchen before closing the few feet between her and Johnny. “What have I told you about mentioning that name in this house?”

Dipping his head, Johnny nodded then shrugged. “I know. You hate it, but Kelsie’s not even awake, so what’s the big deal?”

“The big deal is that while the name is fitting, I’ll grant you that, I won’
t have you buying into his mystique load of crap and that’s what that name does. It makes him seem dangerous and evil. But really, he’s just a greedy, power hungry…jerk,” Molly finished, her hands fisted at her sides as she leaned towards Johnny. She had an endless mental list of foul names for the man, but she refused to even voice them out of stubbornness. Jerk was perfect and wouldn’t feed anyone’s ego. Blowing out a breath, she took a step back and smoothed a hand over her hair as she sought to get back to the topic at hand. With a vague gesture towards the kitchen, she asked, “And his name is Sam?” At least it wasn't some silly nickname.

“
Yeah, and he seemed like a nice enough guy before. Bought drinks all night long.”

“
He's after something. You know that, right?” There was a fishy smell about the situation, but then again, that was par for the course where her brother was concerned. She turned from him. “Get the blood cleaned up, take Tuck back, and then return here pronto. This isn't a hospital and one year of med school doesn't make me a doctor. I'm just a paramedic.”

“
You're the best paramedic I know.” He gave her one of his trademark grins and she rolled her eyes.

Johnny
reached out and tousled her hair in the way he'd done since he was a kid. He knew she hated when he did that. It annoyed her how it called attention to the unruly curls that she fought to keep under control, but it was also his way of reminding her that they were siblings. She swatted his hand. “Knock it off. Besides, I'm the
only
paramedic you know.”

His grin only widened.
“I'll be back in in a few hours, Molls. I swear it.” The screen door slammed as he left.

Molly shook her head and went to bathroom medicine cabinet and juggled peroxide, bandages, and tape down the hall to the kitchen. Setting the supplies beside the paper towe
ls and clean rags on the table, she tried to think if she'd need anything else. She grabbed an old bath towel from the linen closet as an afterthought, tossing it on the floor just in front of Sam's foot. His eyes followed her movements but every few seconds he closed them and a muscle in his jaw tensed. His color didn’t look so good and she wondered just how badly he was hurt. Johnny had made it sound like the guy just had a few scratches. 

“
I'm sorry to cause you trouble, ma'am.” His voice was deep with a hint of roughness.

Molly tore o
ff strips of tape and hung them on the edge of the table so they'd be easy to reach when she needed a piece. “I'll be honest. I'm not thrilled about my brother dropping you off here. I'll do what I can, but I'm not a doctor, just a paramedic.”

“
I appreciate it.”

She moved to the sink,
filled a bowl with warm water and returned, setting it on the table beside his chair. The back of his leather jacket had a gash angling from just below the shoulder blade area, ending at the right shoulder. Great. He could have a spinal injury and here she was treating him with tape and paper towels at her kitchen table. “You should go to a hospital. You know that, don't you?”

Sam lifted his head, his eyes hard.
“That's not an option.”

He moved as if t
o stand, and she rested a hand on his shoulder, pressing down lightly. “Sit. I said I'd do what I could, but I'd be remiss if I didn't advise you that you'd be better off with a real doctor.”

He gasped, grimacing, and she snatched her hand away.
“Sorry. I hope I didn't hurt you.”

He nodded, but
his face was pale against his dark hair. “No. It's okay.”

“
Listen, maybe I'm getting ahead of myself. Let's take a look and see what we're dealing with, okay? If it's beyond my scope, I'll let you know.”

His eyes met hers. Not quite green, but not quite hazel, they wavered for a moment as he let out a deep breath.
“Yeah. Okay.”

“
First, I'm Molly—Johnny's sister.”

“
Johnny?” His brow knit in confusion.

“
You probably know him as Flea.” She shook her head and couldn't hold back the sarcasm. “His buddies in that motorcycle,” she made air quotes with her fingers, “
club
, gave him that stupid nickname.”

“
Ah. Yeah. I figured it wasn't his given name.”

Molly chuckled.
“No, his mother was smarter than that. Not much, but a little.” She retrieved other items she'd need out of a cupboard, including a Dutch oven to act as a bucket when she cleaned his leg, as well as a pitcher she usually used for making lemonade.

“
I take it you don't share a mother?”

“
No. He's my half-brother. He said your name is Sam.” She set the Dutch oven on the floor and straightened, putting her hands on her hips. “Do you have a last name, Sam?”

He averted his face.
“I do.”

She waited b
ut when he wasn't forthcoming, she shrugged. “Whatever. Let's get this over with. You need to take off your jacket.”

He unzipped it but
had trouble getting it off. She grasped the right cuff and he pulled his arm as she eased the leather over his shoulder and slid it down his arm. Molly stilled at the sight of a gun in a holster strapped over his shoulder. “I don't allow weapons in my home.”

She expected defiance, but Sam merely unbuckled the holster and set it on the table.
“I don't much like them either. You can hang onto it if you want.”

Molly stared at the weapon,
then picked it up by the holster straps and put it on top of her refrigerator for the time being. Turning back to Sam, she said, “Before we go any further, do you have any more surprises in store for me?”

Wearily, he shook his
head. “No, ma'am.”

He didn't sound like a biker and she cocked her head, studying
him. So he was a polite one. If it was one thing she'd learned over the years, it was that bikers came from all walks of life. She even knew a few doctors who put on the leather and tried to be tough on the weekend. Thinking of leather, she glanced at the jacket still in her hand. The lining was saturated with blood. No wonder he looked so shocky. She tossed it in a corner. “I think that's beyond repair.”

He didn't act too upset about the loss, and that made her wonder. Most motorcycle guys she knew would rather giv
e up an arm than their jacket. “Before I start working, I want you to drink something. You need fluids.” She raised an eyebrow at him as she moved to the refrigerator. “Non-alcoholic fluids,” she clarified.

She had milk, water, juice and a couple of diet sodas. The juice would have to do. As she reached for it, she noticed the bottle of children's electrolyte solution in the back. She'd bought it when Kelsie had been sick with a stomach bug the month before. Perfect.

She poured some in a large glass and handed it to him and hid a smile when he gagged on the first swallow.

“
What is this crap?” He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and glared at her.

So much for Mr. Politeness.
“It's what you get when you're dehydrated and need fluid replacement. It's not like I have an IV in my medicine cabinet. Quit acting like a baby and drink it.”

“
I'm not dehydrated. I've been drinking all afternoon.”

She thought she'd detected the faint odor of whiskey on his breath, but
Johnny's had been a lot stronger. “That's
why
you're dehydrated—that, and blood loss.”

She rifled through
her junk drawer for an old pair of bandage scissors, ignoring his muttering about how she was trying to poison him. Finding the scissors, she moved to his side again. “I need to cut your t-shirt off, unless you're able to get it off yourself.”

He glanced at his blood-soaked shirt and shook his head.
“It's not like I can ever wear this again. Go for it.”

Molly made quick work of the shirt and tried to hide her dismay at the deep gouge across his ba
ck. She wasn’t an expert, but she had seen a few bullet wounds on the job before. One end of the gouge was deeper and had a large bruise already radiating from the impact. “I can clean this up and throw some butterfly tape on it, but I still think you need to see a doctor, get some x-rays, antibiotics and stitches.” She cleaned the wound, dabbing the edges with the clean rags.

He sucked
in a breath between his teeth as she worked, but otherwise kept silent. She did the same, working quickly as she smeared antibiotic ointment along the wound, laid clean wet gauze over it and secured it with tightly crossed strips of tape. Over that, she set a large dry dressing, taping that loosely over the other.

Next, she went to work on his leg, tearing
his jeans up the seam to his knee to get a better look at the injury. The bullet had passed through the muscle of his calf, leaving an exit wound on the inside of his leg through the thickest part of the muscle. Concerned about damaged nerves and broken bones, she removed his boot and sock, and assessed the limb. There was no deformity and he was able to wiggle his toes when asked although he grunted in pain. The pedal pulse was strong—that was a good sign. She ran her hands down the sides of his leg to his ankle, feeling for any irregularities, then had him rotate his foot.

His hands tightened on the seat of the chair.

“Are you okay?”

He nodded, but when she rel
eased his foot, he blew out a deep breath and perspiration dotted his face.