Chapter 3

CHAPTER THREE

Francis

As I gaze down at my hands, I watch the blood fly from my broken knuckles. Gingerly, I feel my nose, knowing it's not broken but is gonna hurt like a bitch for a while. I scan the front yard, making out Chains, Fury, and Bad Dog all leaning against their bikes, watching me kick ass, grinning my way like the crazy fuckin' lunatics they are.

The three on the ground have gotten the worst of it for sure. Two of the assholes are totally out and the last one is moaning loudly. Before I can do anything, Fury walks over and kicks the downed biker in the head, instantly quieting him. Smiling my way, his grin immediately turns to a frown.

"Damn, Stitch, you are gonna need to get that taken care of, dude. You're bleeding like a fuckin' gutted pig for Christ's sake."

Looking down, I see what he is pointing at. One of the ass-clowns must have pulled a knife when I was fighting his brother, and he fought dirty. I was so into beating the shit out of that asshole, I didn't even register the warnings in my head of the second prick's approach—or barely felt it—but looking now, there is a huge gash in my goddamn side. Gonna need stitches or maybe even staples.

Fuck, that means a trip to the hospital and missing Church, which will cost me a bullshit fine. Fuck. I would have Doc fix me up but he's out of town.

"Son of a bitch, I'm gonna miss Church. Tell Prez what happened, will ya?"

"Stitch, who the fuck do you think sent us here in the first place? Brick knows all of us are gonna probably miss Church, but it's on his order, so no fine, thank fuck. With that worry out of the goddamn way, let's get rid of these three jerkoffs and get your ass to the hospital to get fixed up."

As he finishes, I look up and see the club van bouncing down my dirt road. Goddamn it, there is more traffic here today than in the last year. I like my privacy and not many know where I live. Well, that is until today obviously.

I watch as a tow truck bounces its way down my driveway, following the club van. Son of a bitch, they are not gonna only move these guys but the bikes, too. I pray to Christ they aren't gonna finish them off. Don't need that shit on my conscience with everything else. But Prez would have given the order and I don't ever go against Brick.

As Tiny, Iron, Dingo, and Bullet, some of our prospects, gather up bikers and bikes, I start to feel the effects of the fight. Once they get the fucked-up bikers and their hogs off my property, the guys and I jump into my truck and head to the ER. This is going to take some explaining, and the ER generally informs the cops when a biker comes in with a stab or bullet wound. I'm not wearing my kutte, and neither are my brothers, ‘cause we are in a cage. This isn't going to be fun, and certainly not the way I wanted to spend my day off. Fuck it, I can't catch a damn break.

After almost a three-hour wait in the ER because they had a huge car accident on the highway, I'm finally brought to the back. As I remove my bloodied shirt, I am feeling the fatigue of the last two days, along with utilizing my skills , catch up with me. My body is crashing. I fall back onto the gurney just as I hear from a distance...

"Hey, you, hang on. I need help in five—my guy is going down—no, shit, he is down. Damn it, can someone get in here and help me? This giant is going to pull my hip out if someone doesn't help me grab him."

I can barely hear what's going on, but I know some little bit of a woman is trying to hold me up and breathing heavily, struggling to maintain my weight. Feeling her pain, I try to get my body under control, but can't. Right when I think my ass is gonna smash to the hard floor, I am aware of other hands grabbing me and pulling me up. As I feel the mattress under my ass, I start to let go as darkness fights to take over.

As I try to open my eyes, my senses are hypersensitive and recognize a couple of things immediately. I feel a peace I have never felt before in my life. Well except when I met Damien the other day.

The brightness my mind is seeing is blinding as the softness of a woman is pressed over me. Her scent, which is light, fresh, with a hint of some kind of flowers and it fascinates me, drawing me closer to her presence. Soft hair is in my face, smelling and feeling awesome. Not wanting the sensations to end, but needing to see who is in my individual space, my eyelids slowly lift up.

Immediately, I feel a mammoth headache coming on, which happens every time after I engage my skills. I mumble something even I don't understand, but the angel of mercy reaches behind her, dimming the lights, comprehending my unintelligible ramblings. She comes right back into my space, continuing to work on something. I try to see what she is doing when I feel the pain of a needle entering my side hurting worse than the original injury.

Damn, how long is that fuckin' thing anyway? Feels like a dull knife pushing in and coming out multiple times.

My eyes move to her face and I take in a deep breath. Son of a bitch, she is totally fucking gorgeous. Surrounding her is a halo of pale yellow light, a shining haze, letting me know she is a good person. And realization hits me; I have seen her before.

Holy shit, this is the woman who drove away from my firehouse when we were returning from the calls. Talk about karma being a bitch, this has to be Damien's mom. What the hell is her name? Damn, my mind is so foggy...It's Grace. Grace Sinclair. A fucking nurse, just my damn luck. As all these thoughts go through my mind, she clears her throat. Before I can even look at her, she pulls back a bit.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Stein. I'm Grace, your nurse practitioner. Once the numbing agent takes effect, I will be putting in around twenty stitches or more to close up that gaping knife wound in your side. I'll need to know how this happened and when you received your last tetanus shot. We will need to make a report, as I'm sure you know. Hey, are you with me?"

"Yeah, I can hear ya, darlin'. Call me Francis, or Stitch, not Mr. Stein. I hate that goddamn name. Sorry for the crude language, no disrespect intended. I didn't need the numbing shots—had worse—and tetanus is up-to-date. I'm a firefighter out of House 15. Just had a company physical and updated immunizations. You can start whenever you're ready; I'm good."

Not feeling anything, I turn to see her staring at me, her eyes huge, face white as a ghost, and her breathing rapid. Wondering what the fuck the problem is, I wait as I hear a hundred thoughts running through her mind, confusing the hell out of me.

"Holy shit. You're Francis from House 15? No way can this be happening to me again. Please tell me you aren't also in that asshole MC that has the waiting room in chaos?"

Before I can even reply, she lets out a shriek and places her hands on her head, leaning in closer.

"Oh, no-no-no, you can't be the Francis my Damien met the other day at the firehouse. Please say it isn't so. You can't be the frigging firefighter my kid can't stop talking about. No, I'm not going through that shit again. And there is no way in hell I'm letting him get close to another shitty MC club filled with bikers who are gonna break his heart. Another asshole in a club of them."

With that, she turns and walk-runs out of the curtained area. I have no idea what is going on except for the shit running through her head, words like, Wrecker, the Satan's Flaming Marauders MC, assholes, fucking shit, fucking shit, and many more swear words clustered together, making no sense. Confused as hell as to what just happened, I sit and wonder why Grace is so pissed at me.

Taking a couple of minutes to think on it, my mind starts to comprehend the clusterfuck that is my life. Because I'm hearing all of her muddled thoughts, I've come to the conclusion she has had history with an MC club that didn't end well at all for Damien and her. So seeing my brothers in the waiting room is bringing back many disturbing memories for her obviously.

Again, I can't catch a break.