Sniper | Fallen Angels MC #3

Chapter 6

Writing is slow at home but it's still happening! Let me know what you think of the chapter!

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"Hey, man. Can you open your eyes?"

I opened both of my eyes and gritted my teeth at the pain in my leg. The house was still on fire, thought the smoke was thicker, and Rooster and Blade were kneeling around me. Rooster's eyebrows were tight in concern as he stared at my leg.

"Fuck! We didn't bring a cage," Blade cursed. I sat up and felt the back of my head for the gash I knew was there. Sure enough, my fingers came back blood-soaked.

"I can ride," I insisted and tried to stand. Blade pushed me back down.

"Comp, can you see this? Get Doc on the phone so he can tell us how to treat it," Rooster said into his coms unit.

"Where's Rampage?" I tried to focus on something other than my leg.

"Snake's calming him down in the basement," Blade answered with a smirk. "He went a little too far." Rooster suddenly stood and rushed over to the curtains near the burning wall by the front door.

He tore a strip off of the bottom and rushed back to tie it around my thigh, a few inches above the bullet wound.

"Done. What next, Doc?" Rooster knelt beside me again. Snake and rampage appeared from the basement, dusty and smiling until they saw me. Snake rushed to my side, but Rampage took his time, glancing at me warily.

We all knew he didn't like feeling strong emotions, and the last thing we needed right now was for him to get in another fit of rage.

"You can ride back to the house, but if you feel dizzy even for a second you pull over and get on someone else's bike," Doc echoed through my coms. Everyone else must have gotten the message too. they helped me stand and I wobbled for a second before gritting my teeth and limping to my bike.

"I'll take care of cleanup," Rampage smirked. I could only look in his eyes for a second before looking away. The rage was still there. He wanted to clean up what he'd done.

"Snake, stay with him. Clean up if he gets mad," I groaned. Rampage lifted his lip to show his teeth at me in a silent snarl before I turned to my bike.

I managed to get back to the house and pulled my gun when I noticed a strange car parked in the driveway of our temporary house. The Feds?

"Put your gun down. It's a doctor," Comp said through my coms. I holstered my gun and waited for the other men to arrive before walking to the front door. I didn't bother parking the bike in the garage—no one was after us now.

A sweaty, pale man was nervously tapping his foot by the front door. When he saw me, his eyes widened and slowly drifted down to the gunshot.

"You Dr. Cernshaw?" Blade narrowed his eyes.

"Yes, yes," the man nodded his head quickly. "I got a call to show up as soon as possible. Sir, you've been shot!" Dr. Cernshaw looked like he'd seen a ghost.

"Stop stating the obvious. Get inside," Blade ordered. Rooster put his arm around me as I limped inside, and the doctor directed us to the dining room table.

"He's got a gash on the back of the head, too," Rooster spoke up. The doctor nodded and inspected my body carefully.

"Get me a drink," I groaned. "The whole bottle."

"Get it," the doctor ordered as well. Blade handed me absinthe. I drank two large gulps and winced when the doctor began digging for the bullet.

"Christ," I whispered and took another swig.

"Yeah, we've got him," Rooster pressed his earpiece. He listened for a moment before pulling it out of his ear.

The doctor, scared out of his wits, healed me calmly and left the house under a threat not to say a word. I was helped into bed and told not to move for three days.

After those three days, I was tentatively allowed to ride my bike—though it hurt like hell, because I couldn't ride it under heavy medication—and made the journey back to the clubhouse with Rooster, Blade, Snake, and Rampage.

"Thank fuck," Pres was the first to greet us, shaking my hand and patting me on the back. "How are you feeling?"

"I'll be limping for a while, but I'm good," I said. The worry in his eyes didn't ease as he greeted the other men.

"So brave, Sniper," Ripper wiggled his eyebrows. Reaper frowned and tugged him to his side, but I just smirked and looked away.

"How've things been?" I asked Torch. The bags under his eyes had lessened a little.

"Good. Calm." He scratched the back of his neck. "Reaper took over your weekly runs while you were gone."

"Thanks," I muttered and shook his hand before limping over to Reaper. I didn't even make it to him before Doc came rushing out of the clubhouse.

"Come inside. I want to check the bandages and give you some crutches," he clasped his arm on my shoulder. I shook it off.

"Let me talk to Reaper and I'll be right in," I promised. His eyes narrowed.

"You all say that, then I never see you and the wound gets infected," he grumbled.

"Ten seconds," I assured. He stepped away, rolled his eyes, and went back into the clubhouse. I limped over to where Reaper was holding Ripper in his arms.

"Hey, Reap. I heard you took over my runs," I muttered softly. His eyebrows rose and a smirk lifted his lips.

"She asked about you every week," he answered. I smile. It would be almost a full week before I went on that run, and it had been so long since I had last done it. That was good to hear.

"Thanks," I responded. He nodded and I limped into the clubhouse and straight into Doc's room. He replaced the soaked-through bandage and was checking my stitching when Jasmine walked in.

"How is he, Doc? Dying?" Jasmine smirked. She pumped the hand sanitizer before putting her white jacket on. I rolled my eyes and flipped her off.

"He'll live," Doc sighed dramatically. I didn't dare flip him off—he was holding a scalpel and would stab me before thinking about it. "Grab the crutches out of the stock room for me."

Jasmine came back with a rather large pair of metal crutches in her hand and I was good to go.

This week would be better, and I would get to see Beatrice at the end of it.

Worth it.

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Hope you enjoyed! I'm starting to love Sniper more and more :) How is that possible??