Doc (Ruthless Kings MC #7) - K.L. Savage Page 0,37

my hand and can’t weigh more than six pounds. She has a button nose, and the middle of her top lip is indented. She’s beautiful.

I flip her over on her stomach and lay her against my palm, then pat her back while suctioning the fluid out of her mouth again. She was in the birth canal too long. Damn it! Doom clouds over me. With every passing second, I grow more doubtful that Dawn pushed too late. I smack the little girl a bit harder, selling my soul to the damn Devil to get Skirt’s daughter to breathe. A high-pitched cry has my shoulders slumping in relief. I’m so damn happy. Holy hell, what a fucking ride today has been. Jesus. I turn her over in my arms, and Juliette runs to me and hands me a pink blanket. I wrap her up quickly and hand the pink potato over to her mom.

Babies are adorable, but every single one of them look the same to me. A cute, pudgy, squishy potato.

I will never say that to the parents because I’ve learned parents decipher in two seconds who the child looks like more.

“She looks so much like Skirt,” Dawn says.

And I rest my case.

I kneel between Dawn’s legs and birth the placenta, then fall back on my ass. I lean my head against the wall and try to take a moment to myself.

“Doc!” The front door is kicked in and slams against the wall when I hear Tool’s desperate shout for me.

This day is far from over.

I stand and wipe my hands on a towel and see him carrying Skirt in his hands. Bullseye is behind him, carrying Jo.

Goddamn it, that girl!

“Downstairs, everyone! Reaper, carry Dawn, Sarah, please carry her pot—daughter.” I catch myself from saying potato. I’m not thinking straight, and I do not want to insult a woman who was just in painful labor for the last hour. I run ahead of them and think about how to treat Skirt and Jo.

“We have another one!” Braveheart yells behind me. I stop at the basement door and peer down the hall, seeing Braveheart carrying Mary.

She has a piece of wood embedded in her thigh, and from the looks of it, she’s lost a lot of blood.

Swinging the door open, I flip on the light and trample down the stairs. I see Patrick laying on the bed, and Sunnie is next to him. Her blonde hair is splayed across his chest and when she sees me, she hurries off as if she isn’t allowed to be close to him. She wipes her face with the back of her hand. Her blue eyes are the size of sapphires in the bottom of a raging sea.

Everyone feels like that today, and the storm is far from over; especially if the day keeps going like this.

Sunnie is about to say something when Tool comes down the steps holding Skirt. She gasps when she sees Jo, and then she sits in the chair when Mary comes down next. It’s a lot to take in, the significance of the attack. No one saw it coming. I don’t know exactly what happened, but the Ruthless Kings were not ready for it.

“Lay them all on a bed.” The first person I decide to treat is Skirt. I want to treat Jo, but that is selfish. She’s making noise, groaning, while Skirt is not. Mary is conscious and speaking. Medically, Skirt is priority. I listen to his heart, wanting to shout when I hear his heartbeat. It’s steady and strong. I check his nostrils and throat, cleaning as much soot as I can out before I place an oxygen mask over his mouth.

“He was crushed by a beam,” Tool says, smudges of black on his arms and face as he tries to catch his breath. “For this.” He sets a box on the chair. The sides are burnt, and the top is bubbling since it is plastic. “I hope whatever it was, it was important.”

“I’m sure it was, or Skirt wouldn’t have risked his life like that.” I tug his boots off and make sure he isn’t paralyzed by rubbing the bottoms of his feet with the percussor. His toes spread out. Good sign.

He isn’t paralyzed.

I make my way to the next bed, wishing Jo were conscious so I could give her a piece of my mind. What the hell is she doing here? How did she get here? I shove an oxygen mask over her face and unwrap