Read Damaged & Dangerous: The Sacred Hearts MC Book VI for Free Online Page B

Coon?” Pig-Pen demanded and I
materialized at his elbow.
    “Here, I was just waiting for permission,” I murmured.
    “Fuckin’ stupid-ass cunt,” he grated. He and the council, or
what there was of it here, moved off into the corner.
    “Here, take these,” Skid handed Thirteen two round tablets.
    “What are they?” he winced, reaching for them. I knew Skid’s
drug of choice and answered for him.
    “Oxy, it’ll help with the pain,” I said and poured some hydrogen
peroxide on some gauze. I dabbed at the cut on his cheek and he hissed out
between his teeth, but didn’t move or flinch from me.
    “You did good, Prospect,” Griz called from across the room. The
knot of anxiety in my chest eased. They believed him. I frowned and hoped they
would mistake it for concentration on my part as I cleaned Thirteen up. I was
trying to decipher why I’d feel concern for a club prospect. I mean,
most of them didn’t survive to patch in and when they were patched, it
seemed to give them an even shorter life expectancy. At least lately, with the
war going on. I was a little horrified to realize that secretly pleased me. Maybe
the Sacred Hearts weren’t such a bad lot after all? I caught myself
thinking.
    I was an absolute study in concentration as I worked to
patch Thirteen up, carefully washing the blood away, closing the wound in his
cheekbone with steri-strips. Skid helped me wrap his bruised and battered ribs
with an ACE bandage and I had to admit; Thirteen had a spectacular physique.
His body was sculpted to perfection beneath his plain tee. I swallowed hard. He
laid back without putting his shirt back on and I honestly think I must have
been blushing, because when he noticed we were free and clear of being
overheard he asked me, “Like what you see Rocket?”
    I frowned and searched his face, which I would never
describe as pretty but certainly was handsome. He was a true strawberry
blonde, the shortness of his haircut barely kissed with the reddish tint of a
newly minted copper penny. His jaw was dusted with the same burnished color in
his few days’ worth of beard growth.
    “Who’s Rocket?” I asked softly, and met his eyes with mine.
His pupils were the size of saucers, which was a shame. I liked the green-blue
of his eyes. There wasn’t a single gemstone, either precious or semi-precious,
I could think to compare it to and it seemed to change with his mood. His eyes
were more of a stormy grey-blue that I could see right now, it was hard to
tell, and I wondered if he was in much pain.
    “You are.” He tweaked my nose with a blunt fingertip and I
jerked back, wrinkling it. He was high, alright, and I don’t think he was
feeling much of anything…
    I sighed, “I’m Raccoon, Coon… not Rocket.” I murmured. He
chuckled deeply.
    “You’re Rocket now, Babe.” He murmured and closed his eyes.
I think he was asleep in a matter of seconds.
    “Coon! Bring me a bottle of Hennessey for Griz!” Pig-Pen
bellowed from the main area of the club. I stood, fetching the bottle from
behind the bar and took it out to the main area. The men were all gathered
around a battered metal table that was half rusted out. I set the bottle and a
glass at Griz’s elbow. He slapped me on the ass, hard, and gestured that I
should piss off, which I did gladly. They were discussing a plan of action, and
I think most were agreed that the plan now included a full club meeting with everyone involved.
    As I went back down the hall to the back, I found myself
hoping against hope that they all ran afoul of the other MC. That all of them
were killed off, except maybe Skid and Thirteen. I knew the odds of that
happening were slim to none, though. God hadn’t exactly been kind to me thus
far. Why should he start now?
    Once I was sure that the prospect would be alright sleeping
it off where he was, I tucked two more Oxy from the stash that Skid had slid me
- for when Pig beat on me - into a square of receipt paper from my purse.