"I hear boys are terrible about accidents. Lord knows I've seen enough broken arms, and noses for a lifetime." She said, taking a seat on one side of the leather booth.

"Yeah, we've already had st.i.tches twice now. The first time he cut his chin while trying to climb the chain link fence in the backyard. The second time was when he tried to jump off the dock, but didn't jump far enough and caught his backside on the dock's edge." I explained.

Both of those times had absolutely freaked me the f.u.c.k out. I could deal with blood, guts, gore, fire, and dismemberment all day long with anyone that wasn't my son. That time, though, I'd nearly pa.s.sed out over a minuscule amount of blood.

The waiter arrived taking our drink orders, as well as our food orders, and we spent the minutes waiting for our drinks to arrive in a companionable silence.

Baylee's next statement surprised me. Not that I hadn't been expecting it, more so that I wasn't quite sure what to tell her, even after weeks of contemplating this very scenario.

"Will you tell me about your MC?" She asked, eyeing my cut.

My hands steepled out in front of me, and I regarded her before answering.

"The Dixie Wardens MC was founded in 1970. My father entered the MC at its lowest point. There was infighting, drugs, and all kinds of illegal s.h.i.t going on when I first prospected. After my father became president of the MC, he stopped the illegal s.h.i.t cold turkey. The other chapters had already turned their s.h.i.t around, but our chapter was the founding chapter, and the last one with founding members. Once dad took over, all of our money came through hard work, and nothing that was illegal."

Baylee looked enraptured throughout my explanation, leaning forward more and more, listening intently as I explained.

"So you're the VP?" She asked, pointing towards the patch under my club name.

"Yeah, not because my pop is the president either. Because I busted my b.a.l.l.s to get where I am." I muttered, taking a sip of my beer when the waiter set it down in front of me.

The brew was perfect. Dark, cold and bitter, just like I liked it.

"What does Shiva mean?" She asked, pointing to my name patch.

I smiled, remembering when I'd gotten the name. "My brothers, JR, h.e.l.l, and Deuce went through boot camp and then firefighter school with me. We were in the training program, and I was the only one without a nickname by the end of it. Anyway, the whole f.u.c.king unit somehow found out my middle name, and I got s.h.i.t about that for the last month of the school."

Taking another sip of beer, I continued.

"Anyway, I'm not really sure what the h.e.l.l happened, but I just lost it one night, tired of catching s.h.i.t from everyone. We were out at a bar on a rare night off, and a couple of Flyboys came in looking for a fight, and me being the perpetual state of annoyed, decided to give them one. Never heard another word about my middle name, and earned myself a nickname. Shiva. They said I was a G.o.d of Destruction. JR was a mythological nut, and decided I needed to be named that."

I could see the wheels turning in her head, and I wondered how long it'd take her to ask what my middle name was.

It didn't take long.

"What's your middle name?" She asked about two seconds later.

I smiled. "Sue."

"I'd heard you being called that at the party, but I honestly thought that it was a joke." She said.

I was being 100% serious, unfortunately.

Then she blinked rapidly, and promptly burst out laughing. "Why?"

I shrugged. "My pops has a man crush on Johnny Cash."

Baylee snickered. "Seems you do too, naming your son Johnny." She observed.

I shrugged again. "Had to carry on the tradition and all."

"Well isn't this sweet. Not to interrupt or anything, but you forgot this earlier." A spiteful voice said from the edge of out booth.

I looked up and nearly groaned. d.a.m.n, how had I missed her walking up to me? f.u.c.k, I must be getting soft.

My hand raised just in time to catch the quarter being thrown directly at my face. "Jesus Christ, Mary. I f.u.c.king told you I'd never go. Why are you being such a f.u.c.king b.i.t.c.h?" I snarled.

"I know you were there. Who else comes to visit them on these days besides you? You're the only one left. Or did you forget that part?" She snarled right back.

I raised my hand and rubbed my chest, right where my aching heart lay beneath. "I made you a promise. I didn't visit his grave."

I didn't tell her that it was Baylee who'd done it for me. That would just be opening that huge can of proverbial worms.

Baylee cleared her throat, drawing both of their attentions.

Mary's head snapped around and she glared at Baylee for interrupting. "Who're you?"

"She's mine." I declared.

"Of course she is. You always liked them on the s.l.u.tty side of curvy, didn't you?" She scoffed.

"That's enough, Mary. I think you need to go back to work and leave us be." I ordered glaring at the woman I'd once called a friend.

I hadn't been able to admit it all those years ago, but the woman was a big b.i.t.c.h. At first, I'd just thought it was because Mary had been grieving, but as each subsequent year pa.s.sed, and Mary continued to act like this, I couldn't allow her those feelings anymore. h.e.l.l, the woman was even married again.

"He wasn't complaining about my curves this morning." Baylee smiled, pressing her b.r.e.a.s.t.s together for emphasis.

Hard doesn't even begin to describe my d.i.c.k when Baylee said that just then. This morning had been on my list of fantasies since first meeting the woman in her bra and bike shorts, while I was taking a p.i.s.s.

Reaching down, I adjusted my d.i.c.k in my pants underneath the table. Baylee caught the movement and laughed. Mary caught the movement and snarled before leaving. Her stale perfume following in her wake.

"What the h.e.l.l was that about?" Baylee asked.

"Mitch.e.l.l Ryan Reed, a.k.a. h.e.l.l, was a h.e.l.l of a man, which was where he got his name. When I first got to the town where boot camp was being held, Mary and I had a one-night stand, and I left the next day without a backwards glance. I was 18 and going into the Marines the next day. I didn't need those type of attachments."

I hid my grin at seeing the silent snarl on Baylee's face. When she made the 'keep going' gesture with her finger, I continued.

"Anyway, six months down the road, h.e.l.l tells me he found the most awesome woman in the world, and he was getting married. Low and behold, it's Mary. We both acted like we didn't know each other, but I told him I'd slept with her the very day he introduced her to us. Then we were deployed, and she became the type of woman that would whine and cry every time he spoke to her. Write him sob letters about how lonely she was. Each and every time. It never stopped. Then, when he died, she blamed me because I survived, and her husband didn't. Been that way ever since." I finished.

"Wow," She said hesitantly.

"Couldn't agree more." I nodded.

The waiter brought Baylee's Chicken Critters and my 72-ounce sirloin shortly after, and I'd just taken my first bite when what she said made me choke.

"At least what you do isn't illegal. I was really worried that your MC was a bunch of criminals who did bad things. It makes me feel better that you work in the confines of the law. It'll help me get Luke off my back, at least."

f.u.c.k.

I never said I didn't do anything illegal. I only said that what we did to make money wasn't illegal.

What the h.e.l.l was I supposed to tell her now?

Chapter 13.

When life feels overwhelming, remember that you will eventually die.

-Life lesson Baylee The tones dropped, and we immediately tensed.

This week had been absolutely nuts.

There'd been three other unexplained arsons, and absolutely every one of them had the same M.O. as the first apartment fire just three short months ago.

Luckily, this one wasn't a fire at all.

"Medic three, please dispatch to patient home at 318 Englewood Drive. Life alert was utilized. Patient fell and is unable to move." The dispatcher called over the radio.

Winter sighed while I ground my teeth. We received many calls on the elderly. It was actually quite sad, because the majority of the calls were on men and women that literally couldn't do anything themselves; yet they didn't have the money to pay for the care they needed.

"Medic three responding." I said into my mic at my shoulder.

We pushed off the picnic tables we were eating at, tossing our half-eaten food into the trash before loading into the bus.

Paramedics wasted a lot of food. h.e.l.l, only once in a blue moon was it possible for me to finish my meals without the tones dropping. Most of the time we were able to bring the food with us, but this time it was pasta, and that didn't travel well.

The residence we arrived at wasn't a nice one. In fact, it was downright deplorable, and it made my heart hurt to think of an elderly man living here.

I grabbed the med bag as Winter went ahead and knocked on the door.

What surprised us both was the fact that someone actually answered the door. Usually on a fall call, we had to enter the residence by force due to the person being on the floor and unable to get up. The person was most a.s.suredly not elderly, either. At most, he was forty. He was also juicin' by the looks of him; he was jittery as f.u.c.k.

"h.e.l.lo, we received a call that someone had fallen." Winter said by way of greeting.

"Uhh, yeah. That was me. I pressed my girlfriend's life alert. I didn't fall though." He explained, while looking around warily.

Something in my brain told me this was fishy, and we should probably call PD; while Winter stepped inside, I hit the mic at my shoulder.

"Dispatch, this is Medic three. We're going to need a couple of blue and whites out here." I said as I crossed over the threshold.

"10-4. Dispatched. They're about three minutes out." The dispatcher relayed.

Somewhat comforted, I followed the sound of Winter's questioning voice, avoiding the h.o.a.rders nest as I walked through the path. The place was one of the worst I'd seen. It was piled high with what looked to be trash.

Newspapers stood about waist high down the pathway, with old cardboard boxes and trash interspersed throughout. In the corner of the room, I could make out the faint outline of a couch, covered nearly completely with old paperback books.

In another corner was about five of those very old boxy TVs that had the wooden frame surrounding the edges of the screen, piled two and three high. Then there was the kitchen.

That was where Winter was, standing beside what I could guess was once a kitchen table, except it was covered completely with dirty dishes, and black garbage bags.

"If your girlfriend didn't fall, Mr. Sutton, then I am unsure what exactly you needed us for." Winter tilted her head in confusion.

Mr. Sutton's gaze turned to me, and then back to Winter before he finally explained. And rocked our worlds.

"Well, I was p.i.s.sing earlier when I saw bugs on my d.i.c.k. I didn't want them to get into my blood and start eating my heart, so I made sure they couldn't." He said, gesturing to his d.i.c.k with a tilt of his head.

We'd be adding psychotic to the list. Gotcha.

Winter looked down where my gaze was already fastened before lifting her eyes back up to Mr. Sutton's face. "Well, that's unfortunate. Can I ask what you did to...um...block off the entry with?"

Now this is the point where a paramedic's job became interesting. You wouldn't believe the utter amount of bulls.h.i.t that we paramedics have to go through on a daily basis. This was nothing for us.

"Zip ties." He answered.

We blinked.

"Would it be possible for us to see the, um, infected area?" I asked with as straight of a face as I could muster.

"Sure." He answered, and dropped the sweat pants that he was wearing.

Words really couldn't explain.

"Umm, sir, can you explain your thoughts as you did this?" Winter asked as I took a step back.

The area really looked quite...agonizing. What he did was use industrial sized zip ties around his c.o.c.k and b.a.l.l.s. But he didn't just stop at one. No, not Mr. Sutton. He went all out, being doubly sure. He had a zip tie on at least every quarter of an inch or so, spanning the entire span of his p.e.n.i.s.

Then there were his b.a.l.l.s. Those only had one zip tie around the base of his s.c.r.o.t.u.m where the skin descended from his body.

The coloring of his b.a.l.l.s and d.i.c.k was what was most concerning. They were a deep, dark bluish purple, indicating that the area hadn't received blood flow in quite some time.

Every single one of the zip ties were tied as tightly as they could go. He was really sure that those bad cooties weren't getting into his blood.

The cops arrived around the time that both Winter and I were getting a clearer look at the 'affected' area. The two men, both beat cops, were seasoned cops. So when we sat back and let them get a look, they didn't burst out laughing, but they did shudder.

"Holy s.h.i.t. That's gotta hurt." The older of the two surmised.

I silently agreed.

"You can go ahead and lift your pants, Mr. Sutton. We'll give you a ride to the hospital. Is that okay?" I asked him.

At his a.s.surance, we left the house without incidence, and Mr. Sutton made himself comfortable on the bench seat in the ambulance. How he could sit with his d.i.c.k and b.a.l.l.s hideously bound like that was beyond me.

As we arrived at the hospital, and Winter gave the report, a crowd of ER nurses and doctors started congregating around the area, waiting for their chance to get a look at the man that had zip tied his d.i.c.k and b.a.l.l.s.