Low Sided A.J. Downey (ebook reader macos TXT) 📖

a fridge or freezer door open and shut. She laid something cold across my eyes and face and I put a hand over it. I wanted to see her. I wanted to see myself.

“Think you can sit up, Mace?”

“I don’t know,” I said honestly. “Can you do something for me?”

“Depends on what it is,” she said.

I sighed out, “I need you to let my boys know where I am, that I’m still alive.”

“What, like your kids?”

I chuckled. “No, my club.”

“Oh, I don’t know…”

“They need to know. They might think the police grabbed me, or something worse. They could go looking for me or go looking for a fight. Fuck… I don’t know where we are. Are we still in White Center?”

“Yes,” she said softly, hesitantly. “It’s not much, but we’re in my apartment, a one bedroom above Excelsior Ice Cream.”

“That’s on fifteenth, right?” I asked.

“Sixteenth,” she answered.

“Okay, seriously, I need you to go like one block east and seven blocks down to Iron Heart Salvage. You know where it is?”

“Yeah, I know where it is. I also know the Sacred Heart’s clubhouse is across the street, but I really don’t know about all that—”

“You don’t have to be scared?” I said.

“Uh, yeah.” She sounded like I was crazy for even asking.

“Do I scare you?” I asked.

“Not right now,” she said softly.

“Did I scare you before? In the bar?”

“No…”

“Then please…”

“Let me get you fixed up and let me think about it,” she hedged, and I wondered what she was hiding from. What had her hardcore lookin’ to get out of drawing any kind of attention to herself?

Shit, that hurt.

“Sorry,” she murmured quietly.

“It’s alright,” I said gently. I could feel she was trying to be careful. That didn’t make it any less painful.

“Look, you’d be a lot more comfortable in the bed, and you’re gonna need a day or two before you can really start moving.”

“You tryin’ to get me in your bed?” I asked with what I hoped was a reckless grin.

“You’re seriously trying to flirt with me right now?” she asked, surprised.

“Gotta find the little joys no matter what you’ve got going on, sweetheart.” She touched along my ribs and I jumped crying out, “Ow!”

Her voice held a hint of a smile when she said, “Sorry.”

I tried not to laugh, laughing hurt. “If you don’t like me calling you sweetheart, all you have to do is say so. I can’t exactly see and I honestly didn’t mean anything by it, just habit I guess.”

“No, it was fine,” she said and sounded almost startled. “I would never hurt somebody over something so petty. I’m really trying to be gentle.”

“Appreciate it,” I grunted as she prodded another tender spot.

“Okay, come on, we’ve got to get you sitting up.”

Fuck, that was no fun. I didn’t know what part was worse—the sitting up, her helping me out of my jacket and then my shirt, or the whole binding up my ribs thing.

Scratch that.

The worst thing was levering me up onto my goddamned feet and helping me shuffle over to her bed, which was low. Really low. Like a mattress on the floor low. Maybe I should be glad that I couldn’t see much.

“Easy, easy!” she hissed, and I finally made it down onto the edge.

“Fuck, I’m gonna puke,” I said – that weird taste invading my mouth, the one that was a precursor, a warning sign of things to come.

“Hang on, no, no, no, gah!” She thrust a trashcan or something into my arms and my stomach rebelled. I swear to Christ in doing so, it pulled on everything from the inside.

“Oh, God! Oh, fuck!” I moaned and I heard Raven sigh.

“Easy, it’s okay, you’re okay.”

Bullshit. I most definitely was not okay.

“My boys,” I grunted, grinding agony twisting throughout my torso. “Please tell me you’ll go get my boys,” I said as she helped me to lie down.

“I promise,” she finally said. “Just rest now.”

2

Raven…

“Woo boy,” I muttered under my breath and stared down 15th SW at the fencing and row of bikes on one side and the bikers smoking on the small back landing across the street. I leaned heavily on my staff that I carried practically everywhere with me. It was as much for my Burner chick aesthetic with its decorative wraps and dangling charms as it was to clobber anyone that decided to make a grab for me.

I’d learned that lesson…

I sniffed, my dread lock wig swaying against my back as I looked from one side of the street to the other. With a sigh, I lifted my leather plague doctor mask off my face and perched it on top of my head.

I wish I could say I stood out, but this was Washington. Just outside of Seattle to be exact, and we were right above Georgetown, which was an artsy neighborhood in its own right. The only place I would have been more at home would be Fremont – but I had to avoid Seattle proper now for reasons I didn’t feel like getting into.

Keep that door closed. Locked. Throw away the key.

I was staying in White Center for that same reason. The other reason being that rough as the neighborhood was? It was in the King County Sherriff’s jurisdiction, which may or may not afford me some protection. I mean, although I saw Seattle PD cruisers, they stayed on the north side of Roxbury while I most decidedly stayed on the south of it. I mean, I was streetwise enough to know that in the grand scheme of things, it didn’t matter.

All cops are bastards. King County wouldn’t hesitate to hand me to Seattle, even if I didn’t have a warrant. Being under investigation was usually enough. What was it cops always liked to say when it came to senseless acts of violence? She was in the wrong place at the wrong time. What I had been through? It hadn’t been senseless. It had been calculated, and the cops weren’t your friend when it was all in