I attended school, I ate, and I slept.

What a hell of a life I was leading.

It was Saturday night and, just like the other weekends since their arrival, I was trapped in this hell hole called home. I hadn’t drunk anything stronger than a coffee since my brothers took up living here permanently.

Though they still spent a lot of time at the clubhouse, but when they were out, a prospect was left at the gate to guard the house. God forbid I go somewhere.

And, as for that pain in the ass, Jackson Johnston, I hadn’t really spoken to him since my brothers were back; he was glued to them anyway.

Which I didn’t completely understand.

I had come to the conclusion that he was either in the club, or in a brothering club. Or maybe just a tool my brothers liked. Though what was really interesting to me was that if he was indeed a member of one of these clubs, why didn’t he sport a cut? A son of Satan’s Son was never seen without his vest.

I was getting up when the noise of squealing tires caught my attention.

I quickly jumped off my stool and walked towards the kitchen door, pushing the door open; the passageway was empty.

I heard the car coming to a halt outside the front of my house, followed by loud voices.

I darted down the passage and ran up the stairs, sprinting into my bedroom. I went straight for my top door and grabbed my gun.

Better to be safe than sorry.

Especially after the drive-by shootings I had seen; I didn’t want to take any chances. Not to mention the ones I did. I always had a flare for leaving the targets terrified.

Walking down the stairs cautiously, I noticed the front door was still swinging open from being pushed too hard, and a black van, evidently parked in a hurry, and was at the front step, with the sliding door wide open.

I slowly rounded the corner at the bottom of the stair case, gun raised.

“FOR FUCK SAKE!” a deep loud voice screamed from the kitchen.

I lowered my gun.

That voice wasn’t a threat.

I pushed the swinging doors open and walked into the kitchen.

Cole was slumped on a stool, leaning over the kitchen bench, with a pained expression on his face. Tyler was a holding a bloody t-shirt to Cole’s shoulder and Jax was sitting on an opposite stool drinking from a vodka bottle. hand was holding his side.

The side kitchen door swung open and Troy and Adam walked in; Troy was holding a First Aid kit and Adam had multiple bottles of spirits. Again, where was all this liquor coming from?

As Adam handed Cole a bottle, Tyler removed the bloody t-shirt and blood began to run down Cole’s arm; his t-shirt clinging to the wound as more and more blood leaked.

Troy grabbed a bandage from the First Aid kit and stuffed it into the leaking wound.

Cole let out a deep scream of pain and sent a flying kick into Troy’s knee.

Troy then let out a string of swear words.

“For fuck sake, Cole. It’s going to be a lot more painful when I remove the damn bullet!” Troy roared.

My mind raced, putting all the pieces together.

“Well, you could’ve waited until I fucking had a stiff drink!” He roared in response.

Troy grunted in response.

“Adam, Tyler, hold him,” Troy ordered.

Troy pulled out a pair of tweezers, a pair that looked like ones I used to pluck my eyebrows with, and removed the bandage.

Cole took a long swig from the bottle and slammed it down onto the table.

The boys gripped Cole firmly as Troy began to dig into Cole’s wound with the tweezers.

Cole’s fists curled and his face screwed up in clear pain.

“Stop,” I ordered from the doorway.

All the heads whipped in my direction.

Troy frowned before he spoke.

“Go to bed, Amber.”

“Before you spew,” Cole added, his eyes screwed shut.

I threw a glance in Jax’s direction, but his eyes wouldn’t meet mine.

Cole let out another grunt in pain as Troy got to work on his wound again.

I rolled my eyes. They were so stubborn!

I took a few steps towards Troy and ripped the tweezers out of his hand.

Troy’s eyes hardened.

“For fuck sake, what are you doing?” Cole screamed.

“GO to bed Amber. NOW,” Troy ordered.

“I am not a child,” I snapped, reaching for the wound. “And you clearly don’t know what you are doing!” I have more experience with this than you do,” Troy argued back.

“And this is not your business,” Cole snapped in his defense.

“Just go to bed Amber,” Adam said softly, eyes pleading.

“And let Troy rip into Cole’s shoulder? NO,” I argued.

“I don’t have time for this,” Troy snarled and grabbed my wrist firmly, ripping the tweezers from my fingers. “

I pushed Troy away hard, although he only fell back a step, and planted myself between him and Cole.

“I’ve removed enough bullets from men’s flesh to know what you’re doing will only leave scarring and cause more pain. Now, let me take over,” I informed them firmly.

Troy had a disbelieving expression.

I could tell not many people stood up to him, or defied him.

I ripped the tweezers from his hand and threw them across the room.

“Now, one of you two,” I pointed to Adam and Tyler, “Go upstairs and, under my bed, there is a sliver case. Grab it and bring it down here,” I ordered as I opened a drawer and grabbed a pair of scissors.

The room fell silent as Adam walked out the swinging door.

“You better know what you’re doing,” Cole muttered angrily.        

I slowly cut his t-shirt from his body, peeling the pieces away; his wounded shoulder was a little more difficult, but I managed to get it all.

By the time Adam had returned, Cole was bare-chested and all pieces from the t-shirt had been removed. 

Adam sat the case on the table and I opened it, grabbing a syringe and a bottle of anesthetic.

I grabbed a pair of gloves and put them on, before taking a needle out of its plastic.

“What are you doing?” Cole asked hesitantly.

“Trust me,” I replied softly.

I then inserted the clear needle into the anesthetic bottle.

I wiped an area clean just above the wound and inserted the needle; I did this four more times around the wound.

I then opened a bottle of salt water and began to clean the wound.

Then I ripped open a new pair of long medical tweezers from a plastic pack.

I slowly moved the tweezers into the wound.

“Feel that?” I asked Cole.

He shook his head.

I nodded mine and continued.

It wasn’t easy removing a bullet.

One, because the bullet doesn’t stay in a solid form; it explodes, leaving pieces everywhere.

It took me a while to get the job done; the room was in complete silence.

I forgot about the others in the room, so I was surprised when Tyler spoke up.

“You’ve done this before,” Tyler stated.

I gave him a quick glance as I continued to now sew Cole’s wound closed.

“Yeah.” I replied.

“I didn’t feel a thing,” Cole said in disbelief.

I lightly wiped an alcohol wipe over the now-sealed wound.

“Told you to trust me,” I advised and shot him a small smile.

“Thanks,” he mumbled.

I placed a bandage on the wound and taped it in place. I then finally wrapped a large white bandage over the wound and around his chest and back, repeating this process until the bandage roll ran out.

“Done,” I said and let out a low sigh.

This brought back so many memories of Blake.

I handed Cole a bottle of prescription painkillers.

“These will help with the pain. I will clean the wound in two days.” . I turned my attention to closing my case back up. “It was deep, so don’t do any heavy lifting and try to rest or you will rip the stitches.”

“Thanks,” he repeated, getting to his feet; Cole was doing something he never did! Smiling, at me, surprisingly.

“So, can we say that the other guy looks worse?” I asked, trying to lighten the tension.

A small smirk appeared on his lips.

“He will sis,” he smiled, and then sent me a wink.  My eyes darted over his tattoos.

“Who was it anyway?” I asked.  “Wait. 

I was actually just as well connected as they were, and my contacts always did give me information, because, well, they knew what happened when they didn’t tell me.

Tyler let out a deep chuckle. “You are so full of surprises little one.” I sent him a wink and turned my attention to Jax. I noticed how he was clenching his fist on his side.

“I’m heading to bed. We can deal with this in the morning,” Troy stated. I didn’t pull my eyes away from Jax; I noticed how he nodded his head slightly in response to Troy.

Within a few minutes, all my brothers had left, leaving Jax and me alone.

“What happened to your side?” I answered quietly.

His head whipped up at the sound of my voice, and his haunting gray eyes met mine.

Clearly, he was surprised I was still here, had he thought I’d left?

“Flesh wound,” he mumbled.

I nodded my head slowly, stood up from my chair, and went to stand next to him.

“May I?” I asked as my hands lingered near the bottom of his jumper.

He didn’t respond and I took a step back.

Perhaps I had been too bold. Hell, it wasn’t like Jax and I were friends.

But then Jax removed his vest and pulled off his jumper and t-shirt, flinching as the fabric touched his injury.

As he sat there on the stool, bare-chested, I wanted to run my fingers over his amazingly toned body.

As my eyes landed on his injury, my jaw tightened.

It wasn’t just a flesh wound.

It was a gaping knife cut, one that ran right down his side.

“Some flesh wound,” I muttered sarcastically.

How could he have just sat there this whole time?

“Had worse,” he responded.

I stood awkwardly next to him.

My legs brushed against his jeans, and I was suddenly very aware of my short shorts and tank top.

I cleared my throat and took a step back, reaching for my case.

“Well, it looks like I get to demonstrate my stitching skills again,” I said, clearly with a fake smile because there was no situation that could occur, where I would be giving Jackson a real smile.

Now, all I needed was to manage to keep my fingers steady enough to sew his flesh back together.

***

“Can I ask you a question?” Jax asked, as I wiped an alcohol wipe over his fresh stitches.

“Sure,” I responded.

Jax and I had remained in silence the complete time I worked on him.

I wasn’t sure if he didn’t speak because he just didn’t want to speak to me, or because he didn’t want to distract me.

“Why

I frowned. “When your boyfriend is a known criminal, he doesn’t go to the hospital when he gets shot.”

“So you used to bandage Blake up?”

“Pretty much.” A dim smile appeared on my lips for a second, remembering the first time I did it. “Practice makes perfect.” I added, because I had got better over time.

“So I have him to thank for my perfect stitches then?”

“No, you have me to thank.”

“Can I ask you something else?” It sounded like he really wanted to know the answer to this question.

I arched my eyebrow, and nodded my head.

“In the HellBound, were you a target shooter?”

I wiped my face off any expression. “I have no idea what you are talking about.”

I watched as a full smile appeared on his face, and he arched his eyebrow.

“It’s a skill to lie straight to someone’s face,” he said, calling me out on my lie.

I gave Jackson something I would never ordinarily give him - a real smile - and stood up from my stool, placing my case on my hip as I turned to leave.

“So, you were then?” He got up.

“Again, I don’t know what you are talking about.” I could act dumb when I wanted to.

A soft chuckle left his lips as he followed me out of the kitchen.

“How many have you taken out?” he asked from behind me.

I grunted in response.

“The way you handle that gun tells me you know how to use it,” he muttered. “But then again, it could all be a show.”

“What does that mean?” I asked.

“You’re clumsy,” he pointed out.

“Am NOT!” I yelled softly.

“Are,” he argued back.

I picked up my pace and took the stairs two at a time.

Once at the top, I swung around to give Jax a pointed look, but, before I could, I tripped on my own feet and fell backwards, and the case whacked into my leg as I fell.

I cursed under my breath, lying on my back, staring up at the ceiling.

I think Jax’s laughter would have woken anyone up.

I sat up and glared at him.   

He clutched his side and had a pained expression on his face as laughter emanated from him.

“You could help me up,” I pointed out.

His laughter slowly died and his eyes stared into mine.

Our eye contact broke as he walked past me and up the hall, not showing any signs of helping me up.

Reaching his bedroom door, he turned to face me.

“Not clumsy at all,” he teased with a wicked grin, and, with that, he shut his bedroom door.

I pulled myself up from the floor.  

“Way to show gratitude,” I shouted behind him, and stormed towards my bedroom door, the only one across from his.

I heard soft laughter as I passed his room.

So I did the most mature thing.

I kicked his door with a lot of force, and cowardly darted into my own room, closing my door behind me.

As I stood in my dark room, I couldn’t help but think about what Jax has been wearing tonight.

He was wearing his cut.

I now knew for sure that he was indeed a member of Satan’s Sons.

Jax and my brothers did, indeed, have a brotherhood with each other.

But it wasn’t seeing Jax wearing a Satan’s Sons leather vest tonight that left me with questions. It was the fact that he wore the patch of ‘President.’

I knew for a fact that Troy also wore that patch, which meant Jax was President of his own chapter of Satan’s Sons.

I gulped at the realization.

 

And I also knew that you weren’t innocent if you were a President.