Filed to story: Cora and Gunner MC Story Book PDF Free
“Want me to put it back in?” I asked, wondering whether I should call an ambulance, but by the time it arrived, I would have done the job.
“You can do that?” He was looking me up and down again, making me feel self-conscious.
“Yes, my name is Cora. I was a nurse in the ED, so do you want something for the pain, or do you want to do it? Although it really should be X-rayed first, something tells me you don’t want to go to the hospital.” I was ready to do whatever he asked. He looked in pain, even though he was handling it well; you can’t hide it completely from your eyes.
“Gunner, my name, and yeah, do it.” He gritted his teeth.
“Going to hurt like hell.” I positioned myself over the top of him, I moved the arm around a bit, felt what I was looking for and using my body to help push, I suddenly moved his arm back, and a loud pop was heard, followed by words that would not be anatomically possible. But accepted it, for what it was. The pain reaction had got worse, and well, he did trust me, and that was saying a lot, not many trust a complete stranger.
“I suggest you rest it up for a few days, a week if you can.”
“No need, I’ve dislocated it a few times before; I mend quickly,” Gunner replied. Suddenly, a red dot appeared on his head. I knew what that was, seen in movies, a laser from a rifle.
“What the fuk.” I dived forward to cover him, not thinking clearly, had to protect my patient, and a sharp pain hit the back of my thigh. I must have screamed, but I don’t remember doing it. The next thing I know, I am on the floor, and this bulky man is on top of me, looking around, phone in hand, demanding they get here now, as there was a shooter close, sending pop shots at us, and the girl got shot.
“Don’t ask what girl, just get here, and now, before I get shot too.” He demanded before hanging up.
“Stay down, Darl, we got a shooter about. But then you already know that, right?” He didn’t look down at me when he spoke; his eyes were focused on the trees. The sound of bikes arriving and more gunfire, before someone came rushing over to Gunner. Checking him out.
“Gun, were you shot?” The man asked, still checking him for blood.
“That’s not my blood; it belongs to Cora, who took the shot, protected me, she did, no one’s done that before.” He rolled me off with a grunt.
“What, thought you were shot? You said on the phone,” The guy was still looking for blood.
“He shot my tyre, hung on as long as I could before it bucked me off, and I dislocated my shoulder. Cora had just put it back when that shooter aimed for me. Cora took the shot for me, saved my life.” He sounded like he had to keep repeating himself; they didn’t believe he wasn’t shot.
They rolled me over, onto my stomach, and then the next thing I knew, they were cutting up my jeans. I was in too much pain to give a damn, but someone was going to be buying me a new pair. These were my favourite jeans. Just got them to sit right on me.
“We got a squirt.” I don’t know what they were talking about, but I suddenly felt cold, and all sound seemed to distort, and darkness claimed me.
Gunner POV
The ride had been good, a week across the countryside, blowing away the cobwebs, while finding the guys that betrayed us and dealing with them. No one brings drugs into our town, not now, not ever. Drugs were a personal decision, and believe it or not, most of us in our club were clean. We prefer not to have hard drugs in our town.
We had just stopped for lunch when our President received a call that someone was shooting between this town and ours, and to be careful. He said he was some random shooter, taking potshots at all who passed. Truckee called them in, said he blew out some tyres and nearly lost the load on the road. He was stuck on the side of the road near town, worried the shooter would hit him, so he was not getting out of his truck.
There were sixty of us out on this ride. We left in small groups, and I drew the short straw so that I would leave last. We had an intercom we could use, and we set it to the same channel. We often use different channels to talk to our mates, like I don’t want to hear what one of the guys got up to last night with some random chick, but have mine tuned to the President and VP, officers, as more are already with a permanent woman, so the chances of talking about banging some chick won’t happen on this channel. Among the officers, only the two of us are not yet with a woman. Me, because no woman has caught my attention enough to want more than a release, and Taser, our barman, because he gets to see all that goes on with the women, and he rarely uses the club woman for his release.
I took my time to finish my lunch, watching the guys leave in groups. I hope they find the son of a biatch. When the last one had left, I got up and headed to my bike. I was not in a hurry, not yet. I was listening to the guys on the intercom as I rode, trying to enjoy the last few hours of the ride, while they gave me insights into what they found, so far, no sign of the shooter or the truck that was hit. Maybe the truck was closer to town than we thought.
Quickly, my bike ate up the road, and I tried not to go too fast as I didn’t want to catch up to the group ahead. I rode not excessively, just a little over the limit, enjoying the ride. I was looking about as I rode, hoping not to see the shooter while on my own.
I had just passed a jeep, with rock music blaring, when my tyre blew, and I had to fight to stay on the road, glad it was the back tyre and not the front, which would have been deadly, most likely sent me spiraling off the bike at speed, not a good end for me. If I lived through it, I would be in a mountain of pain.
At a lower speed, the bike hit the dirt on the side of the road and bucked me off. I flew over the handlebars and was swearing like a trooper before landing hard on my shoulder, sending pain across my body. Lucky that my bike went in a different direction.
“Buddy, where are you? What happened? On my way back,” Voices were calling out to me as I tried to get my breath back. I told them what I knew, and they would be back in two minutes. That’s too many minutes too long, if that shooter was close by. I heard a dirt bike in the trees, and my gut told me that it was the shooter, and I warned my guys of the direction I heard the bike and to be careful.
When the most gorgeous girl I had ever seen brought my attention back to where I lay, she was talking softly to me, not touching me, yet her assessing gaze roamed over my body. Did she like what she saw?
I shook my head, cleared my dirty thoughts, and listened. She’s a nurse. How lucky am I? To have a nurse here with me. Can’t say that happens very often. When she leaned in to fix my shoulder, which I knew was going to hurt as much as it did, when I fell, her perfume filled my nose, a sort of vanilla smell, not overpowering like many girls’ perfumes are at the club; this was more subtle, I took a deep breath, before she set my arm, and all the air rushed out of my lungs, and I nearly passed out from the sudden pain. Still, the pain reduced to something more bearable.
Just as I got my breath back, a red beam came searching for me, hunting for a kill shot, and I could do little to get out of range, but before my brain could come up with how to protect the woman or me, Cora jumped on me and took the shot.
I think she’s out cold.
This woman just saved my life.
Making sure I held her tight and rolled over, I would gladly accept any more shots. This girl’s done enough for me already; she’s a keeper. I wonder where she was headed before stopping to help.
I argued with my team as they arrived that the blood wasn’t mine before they started to work on Cora. I cringed when they cut up her jeans. She’s going to be pissed at that. Guess I owe her some new clothes. They must have hit the main blood vessel, because the moment the pressure of the tight jeans was released, she squirted out blood. They put a tourniquet on the upper thigh and bandaged her up the best they could; they still got her to our medical room.
I struggled to get up and looked at my broken bike as they loaded it on the back of a van that had just arrived. A man screaming was thrown in the back along with my bike, his hands tied behind his back, blood running from his nose, and his left shoulder where one of our guys shot him.
“This girl’s got a serious medical kit here, what is she?” Scrubs said as he inspected her kit and handed it to one of the guys to put it in her car, that one of them would drive to our compound. I thought I had already told him she was a nurse, but I guess he was too busy checking me out to give Cora a thought.
“Her name is Cora, an ED nurse. I want to be with her. I owe her my life,” I replied as I was helped back to the van and climbed in beside the pale, lifeless-looking Cora. She looked so vulnerable, and it was all my fault that her life changed so much. Quiet moans of pain came slipping out of her mouth as we hit several bumps along the road back to the clubhouse, and the larger bump at the gate. It was time to smooth out that entrance. I murmured to myself, feeling each bump causing pain in my shoulder, and wondered how much worse it was for her.
