The Outlaw Stakes His Claim (7 page)

“I’m good.” Dallas ran the towel over his face once
more and tossed it aside. Stinger watched him silently, and it was clear the
other male didn’t believe that completely.
 
“I said I’m good, man,” Dallas said a bit more
forcefully.

Stinger held up his hands in surrender.
“Easy, Dallas.”
There was a moment of silence that passed
between them. “How about we hit up a titty bar in another town? Get away from
all the Steel Corner pussy?”

“I don’t know, Stinger.” Getting away sounded good,
but thinking about other women just wasn’t doing it for him. Dallas turned and
grabbed his clothes and cut from a Grizzly prospect.

“
Yo
, Dallas, come to the
backroom and I’ll have someone patch you up,” Sticks said as he walked up to
him.

Since Court was with his female out of town he
wouldn’t be having the resident Grizzly EMS member sewing him up. Dallas got
his jeans on and made his way to the back. People moved out of his way, but
that was smart of them. He might be more at ease, but he was far from less
dangerous.

Sticks pushed open the wooden door that led into a
storage facility. It had been converted into a makeshift med room with a fridge
and freezer, a stainless steel sink, and a few cots. “Sit down, and I’ll have
Torris
come over and patch you up.”
Sticks
was
gone before Dallas could respond.

He sat down on the cot and felt the sweat drip down
his temples but didn’t bother wiping it away. The only time the med room was
used was for the men that were left standing. Going to the hospital was not an
option given how the wounds got inflicted. Dallas knew Sticks had a few guys on
hand that were experienced in this shit. They were the ones that had been
kicked out of medical school, dropped out, or who had enough street experience
that they could dig out a bullet from a body with the lights out. A few minutes
later this clean cut looking guy came in, but even though he looked like he
might have just walked out of some college campus, the stench of his drug use
was clung to him like a bad memory. Dallas could tell he was sober at the
moment, but the stench of his need of the toxic shit and the track marks on his
arms told of the life he led.

“This is
Torris
. He has
two years of med experience—”

“And of the chemical kind of experience, too, I
see.” Dallas was already off the cot. “I think I’ll pass on the junkie sewing
me up.”

“I’m good man, haven’t used yet.”
Torris
held his hands out. “See, steady.”

Dallas wasn’t one to condemn or judge anyone,
especially not with the shit he had been through or done, but the guy looked
tweaked out as it was.

“I’ll get someone else.” Sticks already had
Torris
out of the room, and another guy back in it in a
matter of a few minutes. At least this guy didn’t reek of drugs. “Tyler is a
good kid, stays away from the bad shit and is steady with his hands.” Sticks
shoved the scrawny looking kid forward. “He’ll have you good to go in no time.”
Sticks waited a few minutes, probably to make sure Dallas was cool with it.

Dallas nodded and headed back to the cot. Sticks
left,
and the kid moved forward. Damn, he looked young as
fuck. “How old are you, kid?”

He looked at Dallas over his shoulder.
“Twenty-two.”
He went back to grabbing supplies and then made
his way over to the cot.

Normally Dallas wouldn’t care about conversation,
but he was good and relaxed from the fight, and this kid didn’t reek of fear
like everyone else he usually came across. “What’s your story?”

Tyler started cleaning the wound on his back. “Not
much of a story to tell.” They stayed silent for a few minutes.

Dallas wasn’t about to drill the kid if he wasn’t
all for giving anything up. He had to respect him in that instance.

“Had to leave med school because
my mom got sick.”
Another moment of silence
stretched between them. “She passed away shortly after I left, and my old man
jumped ship.” He shrugged. “So, here I am, trying to pay my bills and hope one
day I can go back to school.”

Well shit, if that wasn’t a sad fucking story. “I’m
sorry about your mom.” Even though Dallas wasn’t looking at him he saw the kid
shrug through the corner of his eye.

“That’s life, right? We all have an expiration
date.”

Damn, the kid was depressing, but he was smart, and
didn’t try to fantasize what the real world was really like. For the next
twenty minutes neither said anything else. Dallas stayed stone still as Tyler
put the needle in his flesh and pulled it out. The action was repetitive, but
compared to some of the stuff Dallas had endured over the years it was more of
a tickle than anything else.

“All patched up.”

Dallas stood and walked over to the mirror that hung
on the wall. It was cracked in the corner, and had this foggy appearance to it
from age, but it served its purpose, and his reflection stared back at him. He
turned to the side and saw his newly closed wounds. “You did
good
,
kid.” Even through the blood on his back his Grizzly MC patch tattoo stood out
between his shoulder blades like a proud and strong badge of honor.

“I can clean up the smaller wounds, if you want?
They are superficial, but still need to be looked at.”

Dallas turned back around and stared at the kid. He
was smaller, even for a human, but Dallas could tell he was not just book smart,
but street smart, too. He just had that look on his face, that knowing
expression that Dallas saw in the other MC members. It was something someone
got when they had lived through some tough shit. “I’m good, but thanks.”

Tyler nodded and turned to grab something out of the
dented and rusted out cabinets that held the medical supplies. He pushed around
some pill bottles, lifted one up to read the label, set it back down, and then
finally grabbed whatever one he was looking for. When he turned back around it
was to hold out the pill bottle to Dallas. He took it and glanced down at the
label.

“You’ll need to take the antibiotics to make sure an
infection doesn’t set in.”

Dallas nodded and shoved the bottle into the front
pocket of his jeans. He put his shirt and cut on, but forced away the
discomfort at having the material on his battered body. He was going home,
washing the sweat and blood away, and hoping to pass the fuck out. Before he
left he faced Tyler again. Dallas normally didn’t care about the path others took
in their life, but he sensed something different in this kid. “How’d you meet Sticks?
You don’t look like you’d run in the same circle.”

Tyler made a show of cleaning up the bloody pieces
of gauze. “I guess it was just one of those times where I was at the right
place at the right time.” He turned and looked at Dallas. He didn’t offer any
more information, and that was where this conversation ended.

Dallas nodded once, and then turned and headed out
of the med room just as another fight started up. This time it was of two
wolves, both going after each other with snapping jaws and rage in their eyes.
The Grizzly MC was off in the corner, and Jagger and Sticks looked deep in
conversation. Before he could move forward Stinger was beside
him,
and the smell of the pot he was smoking filled Dallas’s
head.

Stinger held out the joint for him. “I know you got
to be hurting, man.”

Dallas took the joint and inhaled from it twice
before handing it back. “Thanks.” Yeah, his body hurt, but it was a welcome
sensation, and more desirable than the darkness that he had been feeling since
Maddix’s
and Meghan’s deaths.

“Come on, let’s get a drink and see some tits
shakin
’ in our faces.”

“Actually, I think I’m heading back to my place. I
just want to crash.”

Stinger looked at Dallas for a few seconds, and then
shrugged. “Your call, but you’re missing out. I heard the titty bar in Traverns
has some of the raunchiest dancers in four counties.”

Over the last few months since Stinger had been shot
by a rival club member, he had kept to himself. Of course there were these
times were he seemed overly outgoing, and ready to party. But Dallas knew a
male that was hiding a lot of twisted emotions deep inside of him when he saw
one. Stinger was one of those men, and he and Dallas were the same in that
respect. That might have been tempting before he had met Hope, but that damn
female was fucking with his mind so badly that he couldn’t even get hard
thinking about having a little tits and ass thrust in his face in the filthiest
of ways.

Dallas made his way toward Jagger and the other
guys, but it was clear the conversation was wrapping up.

“We need to find a few more guys for the weekend’s
fight,” Sticks said. “I got one down with a broken leg, another one dead from a
back alley fight, and your guy,” he tilted his head toward Dallas, “just took
out Stephan the polar bear.”

“You’re the one behind the recruiting.
Us
hooking you up with fighters wasn’t part of the deal.”

“Yeah, I know, but with Jace and The Lion MC on a
run to California I am stretched thin with manpower and trying to keep this
shit running smoothly.” Sticks looked between them. “If I reach out to some
shady as fuck connections I have in Denver, the price they are going to want in
exchange is going to cost everyone.” Sticks reached behind him, pulled out a
pack of smokes, and took a cigarette out. “Now, I know you have the hook-up
with The Brothers of Menace in River Run. I’m hoping you can reach out and see
if any of them want to make a few extra bucks and beat the shit out of some
guys.”

Jagger was quiet for a minute. “You know the
Brothers are human, and although they are just as tough as any shifter I’ve
come across, they wouldn’t last in a shifter fight, especially if they were up
against a bear or an equally large animal. I’m all for blood and violence for a
good time, but I can’t throw them into that, especially not unless I want to
make a new MC enemy.”

Dallas knew The Brother of Menace could take care of
themselves
, and were just as deadly as any shifter or
MC out there. They had proved that to the Grizzlies, but they were still
humans, and therefore a weaker species.

“I’m not a fucking madman, Jagger. I wouldn’t throw
some humans in with a shifter. If they agree it’ll be a human-to-human fight. It
ain’t
like seeing two humans go at it and beat the
shit out of each other isn’t just as entertaining or won’t be just as
lucrative. It might not be as brutal as two shifters tearing chunks of flesh
out of each other,” Sticks shrugged, “but it still brings in the money.”

“I can bring it up to Lucien, but I can’t make any
promises, and I’m not making this a regular occurrence to ask my associates to
join in on this shit.” Jagger’s voice was hard as he spoke to Sticks.

“Hey, I’m not forcing
nothin
’.
You don’t
want to ask, I’m not pressuring it. But know this, if I can’t find guys willing
to fight—and possibly die—then that will affect not only my pocket, but The Grizzly
and Lion MCs, too.” Sticks may be only a human, but he was a tough fucker, and
nearly as smart as Stinger when it came to numbers. He was a businessman all
the way through, knew his shit, but also needed to know his place.

A low rumble left Jagger.
“Careful
with your words, human.”

There was no fear from Sticks, but there was
realization that he needed to tread carefully, and that not only was he
surrounded by shifters, but that the Grizzlies were his business partners.

Sticks held up his hands. “Just let me know what you
decide. If the Brothers don’t want to join in I will have no choice but to call
in my Denver connections, but that will cost all of us.” Sticks shrugged and
looked at each of them. “Just bring it to the table, if that needs to be done,
and let me know,” Sticks said and turned to walk back into the saddle room that
had been converted into an office.

When it was just the MC, Jagger tilted his head
toward the main doors, and they all followed their President out. The air was
starting to turn colder with fall approaching. Jagger stopped a few feet from
their bikes. “I’m going to give Lucien a call, and if he gives the go for his
crew to fight, then I want a few more Grizzlies present.” He reached in his
back pocket and grabbed his cell.
“Dallas, you good now?”
Jagger lifted his gaze to Dallas.

“I’m good.” Clearly he hadn’t been keeping a tight
lid on what he was going through.

Jagger nodded once. “Good, because we need you to
have a clear head, and keeping all that nasty vileness inside is only
compromising the club.” There was a tense moment of silence.

Dallas scrubbed a hand over his face, felt the grime
of dried blood and sweat coat his flesh, and then sighed. “Yeah, I’ve been
trying to keep my personal issues just that ... personal. I didn’t want to
bring it to the table and make it club business because it wouldn’t do any
good.” He looked at each of the members and stopped on Diesel. The VP was the
only one that knew what had caused Dallas to turn into this dark male, but he
had needed to tell the Grizzly Vice President why he had been a motherfucker to
him. When Diesel had gotten with his female, Dallas had tried to get between
them—to a point. It had been more of a dick showing, with Dallas playing this
tug and pull with a female Diesel wanted but hadn’t yet claimed. He had
realized what a shitty thing it was for him to do, and that reflecting his
emotions on his brothers was a messed up thing to do. But there were just
things a person couldn’t control, and for Dallas this had been one of those
times.