Roped (15 page)

“Jesus! Don’t scare me like that,” Tek complained and pressed a relieved kiss to Jamie’s lips.

“Te…. Hi, Tek,” Jamie slurred. His mouth turned into a half smile as his good eye fluttered closed once again.

Great!
Tek didn’t know whether to be pissed or relieved when it hit him they had drugged Jamie to subdue him. No way would Jamie have stopped fighting unless he was beaten nearly to death or drugged. The only wound Tek could see was the one over his eye so it had to be the latter.

Tek scanned the room. How in the hell was he going to get Jamie out of here with only one arm? No fucking way could he carry the heavy bastard. Jamie was just going to have to man up. Tek retrieved a glass of cold water from the sink and poured it over Jamie’s head.

Jamie spit and sputtered and shook his head, sending water droplets flying. “Hey!” he complained and shook his head again.

“Wakey, wakey,” Tek insisted and started cutting through the ropes that held Jamie to the chair. “No time for a nap, big guy. We got to go.”

“Go where?” Jamie asked in apparent confusion. “Can I jus’ have nap?” he slurred, his head lolling on his shoulders as he spoke.

“Nope, time to hit the road, bud.” Tek sheathed his knife and slid his arm under Jamie’s shoulder. “C’mon,” he encouraged.

“I tired,” Jamie complained. “Sleep.”

Tek gritted his teeth as he pulled Jamie to his feet. Jamie was nearly dead weight, leaning on Tek hard and causing the pain in his arm to scream. But Jamie was on his feet. He’d take the small victory even if he did want to puke or cry or both.

It was slow going, but he finally half dragged Jamie out the door of the cabin. He briefly thought about leaving Jamie behind and getting his truck, but he shoved the idea away immediately. No way in hell was he leaving Jamie alone. It was his turn to man up.

Minutes felt like hours as they struggled through the darkened woods. Tek constantly had to force Jamie to keep moving all the while refusing to give in to his own pain and exhaustion. The adrenaline high of the fear and battle was gone, and he was spent. One agonizing footfall at a time, they finally made it back to Tek’s truck. He could now allow Jamie to sleep; he’d earned his reward for fighting through the fog of drugs for this long.

Tek helped the exhausted man into the truck, Jamie snoring before Tek could get him all the way in his seat. He placed a kiss to the top of Jamie’s head. “I’ve got your back. Sleep well,” he murmured and kissed him again before hitting the lock and shutting the door.

Tek wanted more than anything to crawl in beside Jamie and sleep, but he had hours before he could enjoy that luxury. He had a scene to stage and miles to put between them and this life. He didn’t dare sleep until they were far enough away that he could keep Jamie safe.

Storm winds blew straight into the face of time, the hands stopped momentarily, only time can never truly be stopped. A life-shattering event, merely a blip in history, and yet for those involved, it can feel like a hellish eternity.

For me, the winds of change destroyed my life, but in death, I found freedom.

Tek Cain

J
AMIE
CLUTCHED
the bag full of medical supplies in his hand as he tromped up the stairs toward their hotel room. It really couldn’t be called a proper medical kit, just some disinfectant, bandages, gauze, and tape, but it would have to do. He’d prefer to take Tek to the hospital, but it was too dangerous. Bullet holes meant police, a lot of questions, and fingerprints. Still, it would be better than if…. No, Tek would be fine. Jamie refused to think anything else.

Tek was lying on the large king-sized bed, asleep. He was naked, a white sheet draped across his waist, his chest rising and falling erratically, and the muscles of his arms and legs were tense, twitching, evidence of the pain Tek was experiencing from his wound even in slumber.

Jamie closed the door softly and moved closer to the bed. He laid out his supplies on the bedside table and then went into the bathroom to retrieve towels and the bucket of ice. He brought them back into the room, adding them to his other supplies, and kneeled down next to the bed. He placed his hand against Tek’s forehead and felt the heat of a slight fever. He hoped it was a result of the pain and not early infection setting in. Tek barely responded, only a slight twitch in his cheek as Jamie touched him. The poor man had been up for over forty-eight hours. Tek had cared for Jamie until the drugs were out of his system. Drive, coffee, drive, more coffee. Tek had ignored his own wound and refused to stop, insisting they weren’t safe, until Jamie had forced him to stop. It was now Jamie’s turn to repay the favor.

“Tek,” he whispered, running his fingers along Tek’s cheek. Tek stirred, his brow creasing, but he didn’t wake. “Hey, I have to clean your wound. You need to wake up for me,” Jamie said a little louder.

“I don’t want to,” Tek muttered without opening his eyes. “It’s gonna hurt.”

Jamie grinned with relief at the pout on Tek’s lips. “Yes, it is,” he told him and unwrapped Tek’s wound.

“You could have lied, you bastard,” Tek grumbled.

“I’ll get you a lollipop if you’ll be a good boy,” Jamie teased.

Jamie inspected Tek’s wound. The skin around the gunshot was red and angry-looking, but it was no longer bleeding. Tek had worried the bullet had broken the bone since he’d lost the use of it during the battle, but it must have been the trauma of the blast. The bone was intact, and the bullet had passed through the meaty flesh of his bicep. The possibility of infection was Jamie’s biggest concern.

Jamie laid the towels beneath Tek’s arm to keep the bed from getting wet and bloody, then grabbed the bottle of disinfectant and opened it. “Ready?”

“No,” he complained tightly. “But go ahead.”

Tek squeezed his eyes shut, his teeth digging into his bottom lip as Jamie poured the disinfectant around the wound. Tek stayed tense as Jamie wiped away the excess fluid and blood. It was only going to get worse. Jamie hated the thought of hurting Tek, but he had to.

Tek watched him with a questioning look as Jamie donned a pair of surgical gloves and pulled out the packing strips of Iodoform gauze. “Tek,” he said softly. “You might want to bite down on your pillow.”

“Why?” Tek squeaked in alarm. “What are you going to do?”

“I have to pack the wound.” Tek started to reach for his arm, protect it, but Jamie slapped it away with his forearm. “Don’t touch it. Your hands are dirty,” he scolded lightly.

Tek arched a single brow and pursed his lips. “No!”

“Sorry, bud. But you’re just gonna have to man up.”

“No,” Tek repeated and glared at him.

“You can either let me pack it or I take you to the emergency room and let them do it,” Jamie told him adamantly. “It’s your choice, but either way, it’s getting packed. It has to drain. If the wound closes with all that crap from the bullet in there, it will get infected.”

“And how do you know this shit?” Tek asked suspiciously.

“Because I’m smart,” Jamie sniffed. “Now bite down on your pillow and be a good boy.”

Jamie had helped with more than one injured member of the club over the years. He wasn’t a doctor, far from it, couldn’t even call himself an adequate assistant, but he knew enough about wounds and the healing process. He just hoped it was enough.

“Goddamn!” Tek howled when Jamie shoved the first bit of gauze into the wound, and then bit down on his pillow to muffle the sounds of his screams as he’d been instructed.

Jamie’s chest tightened as pitiful sounds continued to pour from Tek, but he clenched his jaw and packed the wound and bandaged it. Tek was sweating profusely and the color had drained from his face by the time Jamie was done doctoring him up.

“All set,” Jamie informed him, placing the last strip of tape.

“Where the fuck is my lollipop?” Tek growled and pulled the pillow over his face.

Jamie pulled his gloves off and tossed them into the bag with the other garbage. He pushed up off the floor and went to his jacket and pulled out a pint of whiskey. “Sorry, this will have to do,” he said, holding up the bottle.

Tek peeked out from under the pillow. “Where the hell did you get that from?”

“Five-finger discount,” Jamie chuckled.

“Dumbass,” Tek snapped and sat up. “You shouldn’t be taking chances like that.” His brows dropped into a frown. “But since you did, why the hell didn’t you give it to me before you tortured me? That’s cruel, man. Gimme,” he demanded, beckoning Jamie by wiggling his fingers.

Jamie grabbed a cup, opened the bottle, and poured a generous amount. He brought it to Tek and handed it to him as he sat down on the edge of the bed. “I figured you’d need it,” he said with a shrug.

“Well, no more chances,” Tek warned him and downed half the booze. He winced at the flavor and wrinkled his nose. “The last thing we need is for you to get caught shoplifting.”

“I won’t,” he promised. He reached over to the table and grabbed the bottle of ibuprofen and poured two into his palm. “Here, take these. They’ll help with the inflammation.”

Tek popped them in his mouth and swallowed them with the rest of the whiskey. “We should probably get back on the road soon. And I’d like to ditch the truck.”

Jamie’s brows lifted as he stared at Tek incredulously. “And do what? Walk? You’re in no shape.”

Tek waved him off. “I’m fine, but I wasn’t talking about walking.”

“And you complained about me stealing a bottle of booze,” Jamie snorted and rolled his eyes.

“This is different,” Tek insisted. “I’m sure the Feds have an APB out on the truck.”

Jamie was silent as he thought about their options. There were too many risks involved in stealing a car, too many variables that could go wrong. “I thought you covered our tracks?” Tek had told him how he had set the scene at the cabin, making sure there was plenty of his and Jamie’s blood smeared around and then sending a cryptic text to Rocco before destroying both their prepaid phones. He assured Jamie that no one would ever find any of the bodies, including theirs. Yet Jamie was still full of doubt, things that didn’t make sense. “You never did tell me how you managed to hide the dead Mongols with only one good arm?”

“You don’t need to worry about that, Jamie. All you need to know is that they will never be found,” Tek informed him, a haunted look in his hazel eyes.

“No secrets, remember?”

Tek shook his head. “It’s not a secret—just some details won’t do you any good to know.”

“But—”

“Look, Jamie,” Tek interrupted, looking at Jamie with a pleading gaze. “Just let it go. It’s over and done with. That life, that shit, the stuff we’ve done, it’s behind us. From now on we’re looking toward the future and letting our fucked-up past stay where it belongs. In the past. The men we were, the club, all of it, it’s dead, okay?”

Jamie crawled up farther onto the bed to sit next to Tek, slung an arm around his shoulder, and pulled him close. “Yeah, okay,” he agreed and kissed Tek’s temple. He knew Tek wouldn’t be able to leave it all in the past, the horrors of some of the things he’d done were etched in the lines around his eyes and seared into his brain. He knew Tek had nightmares at times; he’d heard him talking in his sleep, but he’d let it go for now, try and help him forget. “I still don’t think it’s a good idea to steal a car to drive us into our future. I say we get a good night’s rest, and tomorrow we just drive. I bet it won’t be too hard to ditch the truck in New York. Make sure it’s never found again.”

Tek turned in Jamie’s arms and rested his head on Jamie’s chest. He grunted in pain when he moved his arm. Jamie grabbed the pillow and wedged it beneath Tek’s arm, keeping it propped up.

“Thanks,” Tek murmured and then settled against Jamie. “I wasn’t suggesting we steal a car. I have money, you know?”

“Yeah, I know,” Jamie assured him. “But we’re going to need that money to disappear. It’s not cheap to live in New York City, and I’m so not living with the crackheads and hookers,” he chuckled. “Besides, buying vehicles leaves a paper trail. Let’s just get there, and then we will figure out what to do with the truck, okay?”

“Yeah, okay,” Tek agreed sleepily. It only took a few minutes before Tek was snoring lightly.

Jamie spent the rest of the night holding Tek, dozing in and out, worrying. His mind refused to shut off and let him sleep. He worried about their past catching up, their future, but mostly, he worried about Tek: his wound, his exhaustion, and especially the haunted look he’d seen in his best friend’s eyes.

“O
N
THE
road again, just can’t wait to get on the road again,” Tek sung at the top of his lungs and then burst out laughing when Jamie glared at him and turned up the radio. The sound of Mötley Crüe’s “Shout at the Devil” filled the cab of the truck.

Tek lowered the volume. “What’s the matter? Don’t you like my singing?” Tek sniffed.

“You have been singing it for two days. Enough already,” Jamie grumbled.