I looked at his sick face one more time. Asshole's mouth hung open like he died surprised, and I grunted. Sweet, sweet satisfaction.
He'd need a lot more than fresh mountain water to purify his black soul down in hell for what he'd done to my woman.
Two hours later, I was back at the clubhouse, Meg at my side while Dust's ma, Laynie, checked me over.
She had her work cut out for her today as a former nurse. First, Firefly, and now me.
“You should really go down to the hospital and get a brain scan, son.” She shined the bright light into my eyes one more time, turning everything brilliant white. “I'm not seeing any obvious signs of damage, but you took a terrible blow to the head. I don't have the right equipment to rule out the worst.”
“I'll be fine,” I grunted, feeling a tiredness coming over me, nothing but the burning drive to curl up with my old lady and go the fuck to sleep.
“Skin, I want one of your friends to take us on a drive. I'm going to get you some help.” Meg stood up, pulling the rag she'd used to help clean the blood off my face out of its water, and wiped a spot she'd missed.
Fuck, that shit stung when she grazed my cuts. But it wasn't half as bad as having to get used to these people buzzing around, all concerned about me passing out.
We'd cleaned up the dead weight in the woods and taken off earlier that night. The prospects and Joker split to head deeper into the mountains, taking the motherfuckers we'd finished out to our usual burial sites.
“Forget about it, babe. I just need to sleep this shit off, I'll be fine by morning.”
Yeah, right. The way the roar in my temples deepened every time I tried to talk told me I was kidding myself and everybody else here with me.
“Bullshit, Skin.” The Prez barked, leaning against the frame in the open doorway. “You need to listen to my ma, and your old lady. I won't have this club's brains getting scrambled for good. I've heard enough. I'm getting Crawl and Sixty together and having them take ya'll in to medical.”
Fuck. So much for getting a luxury condo, as soon as I saw the medical bill I'd wrack up after they did half a million scans on my skull.
“I can't afford that shit, and neither can the club treasury. We're just barely getting back on our feet. I'm not gonna burden the brothers, taking away from this club and the profit share for the guys when we've all risked our asses.”
“You risked yours the most, Skin. It's my choice – or did you forget what this patch means?” Dust stepped forward, sharing a quick glance with his ma, and tapped the PRESIDENT patch on his cut.
“Yeah, I remember. Your way, Prez. No backtalk.”
“Guys, let me do this,” Meg said, speaking up. “I have an idea.”
“Start talking, baby doll,” Dust growled. “I'm not letting this boy close his eyes for a goddamned cat nap 'til he's had his head looked at good and proper.”
Meg sat down with a nervous smile, and began to explain. By the end of it, I wasn't sure whose eyes were bugging out harder – mine or the Prez's. That was when I knew beyond any doubt I'd hitched up with the craftiest girl this side of the mountains, and maybe the craziest too.
“This is it?” Sixty pulled a smoke from his mouth and flicked it out the truck's window.
“Yup. I'll walk him over and buzz the gate. Just wait for us out here.” Meg tugged on my arm. “Come on, old man. It won't be as bad as you think.”
My brothers nodded. They watched me stagger out of the passenger seat with my girl on my arm. The fucks probably thought I was heading for death row.
Her daddy didn't say much when she buzzed the gate. The big, iron bars I'd only seen from the outside slid open. It was a long walk to the double-wide front door between the roman columns, a country mansion like something outta Civil War times.
A tall, wiry man with spectacles came out to meet us, looking like a damned owl. He took one look at me and twisted his face.
“Honey, what the hell is this? Some kind of joke? My God, you brought him here.”
“Of course I did, Daddy. Are you telling me the man who saved my life isn't welcome in our home?”
Pain roared in my temples. Didn't distract me from fixing eyes on her father, watching the hard, venomous look he gave me soften the longer his daughter looked at him.
Finally, he let out a heavy sigh. “No. We're civilized here. Assuming you have no weapons...Mister Skin, you're welcome to come inside for some water.”
I narrowed my eyes, staring at him, and decided to do the only thing that made any damned sense. “I'd like that. It's a pleasure to meet you too, Mister Wilder. Call me Parker.”
“What's going on here, Eric? Who is this man, and what's he doing in our house so late?” An elegant looking older lady in a thick burgundy robe sashayed into the kitchen, heading right for us.
We'd barely even sat down and gotten started. Meg squeezed my hand and smiled. I clenched my jaw, holding in a big fat whatever.
If she wanted to introduce me to her old man, then she'd might as well do the entire family.