In Bed With The MC President
The infirmary used to be a garage that we later kept clean for bullet wounds and knife fights.
The van came a minute later and stopped behind me.
“Get the doors!” I roared at the prospects.
Justin slipped out of the backseat before the car had fully stopped. He was covered in blood. It soaked his jeans, his hands, his cut.
He nestled Mila like she was made of glass. Her head lulled sickeningly against his chest.
“Doc!” Justin screamed, his voice cracking. “Doc, get out here!”
A tall, young man, who had been a combat medic before he was a biker, burst out of the infirmary doors. Adam. He snapped latex gloves onto his hands.