Chapter 3 It took

It took her only a heartbeat to register the fact that she'd been lied to. A group of men in black leather boots and jackets stood by a small couch pulled close to the fireplace. One of the men she recognized as Tom Brewer, a member of the Steel Infidels, a well-known motorcycle gang in town rumored to be involved in several illegal activities.

A few months back he'd brought her an abused pit bull that he'd snatched from a man's backyard. The poor dog had been chained up in the hot sun for days without adequate food or water.

Kendra hadn't asked any questions at the time and had been grateful to Tom for bringing the dog in. It had taken a while, but eventually she'd been able to nurse the dog back to health and had even found a nice home for him with a couple of kids.

Later she'd read in the town's newspaper that someone had beaten the hell out of the dog's owner in what the newspaper had called a "random act of violence." She'd suspected Tom Brewer and the Steel Infidels had been behind it, and to be honest, she was glad. The man deserved much worse in her opinion. No punishment was bad enough for an abuser of innocent animals.

A closer look at the group revealed another man wearing nothing but jeans and steel-toed boots sprawled out on the couch. From what she could see, the bare-chested man was positively lethal when it came to the looks department...and seriously injured.

He was a mass of hard-packed muscle and looked to be in his late twenties with a dark tan and jet black hair. Blood spilled from a wound in his left arm, dripping through the makeshift tourniquet and onto the wood floor. A large black tattoo with the motorcycle gang's emblem wrapped across his back and upper shoulders.

Kendra's mind raced as she tried to get a handle on the situation. She couldn't possibly imagine what had transpired in the cabin and didn't want to know. Getting tangled up with the Steel Infidels was something only a fool would do. And nobody had ever called Dr. Kendra Shaw stupid.

"Well gentlemen, I guess I can assume there's not an injured eagle in here after all," she said before turning and heading back towards the front door.

Damn! Too late.

The heavyset man who had let her in was now blocking her exit.

Kendra drew in a deep calming breath before whirling around. "Okay, somebody had better tell me what is going on here. Who called me?"

Tom Brewer cleared his throat. "I made the call, Dr. Shaw. I'm sorry for lying to you like that to get you up here. We didn't know what to do and we needed help. Fast." He waved a hand toward the injured man. "Flint took a bullet in the arm. We didn't know who else to call." He shrugged helplessly and looked away.

Kendra's eyebrows shot up. "How about 911? That's always a good first choice. Jesus Christ, Tom! I'm a vet, not a doctor! You need to take him to Union General right now."

She hurried to the injured man's side. Not only was his skin unnaturally pale underneath his tan, his breath was also shallow and erratic.

"When did this happen?" she asked.

"An hour or so ago," Tom answered. "We were on a run to pick up some supplies over in Towns County. When we came back through the valley, an ambush was waiting for us. They opened fire and caught Flint in the arm."

Kendra held up her hand to stop him from talking. She had enough sense to know the less she knew about the details, the better. Getting involved in the Steel Infidel's business was a very bad idea.

She turned back to the injured man and quickly assessed his injury the best she could. "The first thing we need to do is stop the bleeding and clean the wound to prevent infection. Then we'll need to load him into my truck. Unless you guys have a vehicle parked somewhere that I didn't see?"

Tom shook his head. "No ma'am, we all rode our motorcycles up here. Even Flint."

Kendra couldn't believe the injured man rode all the way from Towns County and up the mountain on a motorcycle with a bleeding gunshot wound in his arm. He obviously must have a high tolerance for pain. Or maybe he was drugged up. Probably high as a kite on something. That would explain it. Or it could be attributed to an intense flood of adrenaline hitting him when the shots were fired. She'd heard of cases where people didn't realize they had been shot until much later due to the ability of adrenaline to mask pain.

A tall man with dark brown hair moved to the front of the group and knelt beside her. One glance at his worried face told her he must be related to the injured man. The resemblance was uncanny though this man was quite a bit older. She guessed him to be around forty because of the few grey hairs showing around his temples.

"I'm Jesse," he said, reaching out to shake her hand. "Flint's brother. What do you need to stop the bleeding?"

"Some clean towels or dishcloths if you have them." She quickly removed the bandage around Flint's arm. She knew the men probably didn't realize the tight tourniquet they had applied would begin to cause irreversible tissue damage in another hour. Then again, bleeding to death was worse.

She frowned when she saw the seriousness of the wound. "The bullet is still in there and it looks really bad. I'll wrap it up as best as I can to stop the bleeding then we need to hurry. Someone should call the hospital to let them know we're coming in with him."

Jesse laid a firm hand on her arm. "That's going to be a problem, Dr. Shaw," he replied quietly. "Flint can't go to the hospital. You're going to have to take the bullet out and stitch him up here. That's why we called you."

Kendra leaned back on her heels and blinked at him in confusion. "What are you talking about? Look, buddy," she replied. "I don't have to do anything. I don't know who the hell you and your buddies think you are, but you can't trick people then expect them to do whatever you tell them to. What do you mean he's not going to the hospital? Are you crazy? He's been shot! For the last time, I'm not a medical doctor! Do you want him to lose the use of his arm? He's lucky the bullet didn't nick a major artery or he'd already be dead. Honestly, I'm not qualified to treat him. That is the God's honest truth."

Flint groaned in pain and struggled to sit up before slipping back into unconsciousness. Kendra pushed her fingers through her long black hair and exhaled a breath. Being asked, or in this case, probably being forced to treat a person wasn't a situation she'd ever been faced with before. As far as she was concerned, it wasn't worth losing her veterinarian's license over. The law was the law. Period. She wasn't licensed to treat people. Legally, she shouldn't touch him. If something went wrong, he could sue her. And rightly so.