Runaway ✔

029 • Dana

Relief spread through her body when Chibs picked up the phone.

"Aye, Juicy-boy. Had a rough nig-"

"Juice shot himself and I don't know what to do," she raved in a breath. "He doesn't want me to call the ambulance because of club shit and he's bleeding like hell and..."

"Take it easy, love. I'll be right over, give me a minute. Keep 'im conscious, put pressure on the wound."

Chibs' gentle voice calmed her down a little.

"Got that, Clo? Talk to 'im, distract 'im, put pressure. I'm right there."

"Y-yea," she answered with a trembling voice. She laid the cell on the table, took away the clot of towels and smeared the blood away so she had better sight of the wound and knew where to press. "Chibs is comin'. Okay? He's comin'." She stroked his head, realizing that was probably more comforting to herself than to him and stopped with it when she saw the trail of blood she'd left behind.

Without looking back, Juice grabbed her hand. Their bloody fingers slithered about each other. "Let me feel where to put pressure," he said with a raspy voice. "Then you can put on a coat."

Only now she realized she was naked. She swallowed a sudden lump, nodded (even though he couldn't see that) and led his hand to the hand that was pushing the towels. When he got it, she hurried to the hall, put on the largest coat she could find and buttoned it up. It covered most of her upper legs, enough for now. She opened the front door already so she wouldn't have to leave Juice again to let Chibs in, and returned to the living room. She took Juice's hand in hers, and with her other thumb, she pressed the wound.

"You're holdin' up?" she asked softly.

"Yea. I'm okay."

She doubted that, although he wasn't crying. Still, he was so pale she feared he could collapse any moment.

"What happened?" she asked, remembering Chibs had instructed her to talk.

"Dunno. I put it in my waistband, as I do every day, and then it went off."

He leaned a little more on his left elbow, looking over his shoulder at her. It couldn't be a comfortable position, right atop the dining table.

A shiver crept down her spine. "Could somebody have unlocked it? Tonight?"

"Only you." He forced a grin on his face, though it looked like a painful grimace. "Nobody did this." He squeezed his eyes as if a gulf of pain was torturing him. He panted a little. "But sometimes... I just do stupid things."

"Not too often, I hope. Imagine that I hadn't been around... or had already been in the shower?" She shuddered again.

"Then I would've crawled to my phone. But I'd rather be nursed by you."

A teasing smile broke through his grimace. There was a bit more color on his face.

"Really? I'm startin' to believe you did this on purpose."

"You got me. It was a very spectacular plan to get you out of your clothes anyway. Ow!" he complained when she pressed harder on the wound.

"Talkin' smart, huh? You're getting better." She smiled relieved. She placed her free hand on his shoulder and squeezed. "Man, you scared the hell outta me."

"Wanted to make a lasting impression."

She chuckled. "Well, that worked. Don't think I'll ever forget this."

The sound of engines filled the street. Her nervousness increased. What if Chibs discovered that he wasn't going to be all right at all?

Not much later the Scot came in, followed by Tig.

"Aye Juice-boy, what ya do kid?" He put a bag on the table. "Yer the only one who can do this." He took out some stuff from the bag and turned to Dana. "He'll be fine, love. Go wash yer hands, I got this."

Dana nodded in relief, washed her hands in the kitchen and filled two glasses with water. She walked back and put a glass next to Juice.

Tig tore his glance away from Juice's bleeding ass and looked at her. He pointed from Juice to her and back. "Did I miss somethin'?"

"I guess." She took a drink and looked at Chibs. He held pliers in his hand and was poking in the bullet hole. She saw Juice squeeze his eyes, but she resisted the urge to grab his hand. There were more than enough jokes waiting for him.

"If you plan to spoil more Sons, I would be happy to volunteer."

She raised her eyebrows. "You just turned fifty, Tig. You really think you can handle me? You see what happened to mister Ortiz..."

Tig stared at her, surprised. He was crazy enough to believe this had really been some serious form of SM. The fact that she was currently dressed as a flasher wasn't helpful either.

She stepped towards Chibs to ask how bad it was, but he looked very concentrated and she decided not to disturb him. She muttered that she was going to change, picked up the towel and headed upstairs.