Doc (The Kings of Mayhem MC Tennessee 2)

I hold out a long cotton swab.

“What the hell do you want me to do with that?”

“It’s a swab, Bam. I’ll give you one guess. You swab with it.”

Bam’s eyes go round. “Swab what?”

I imitate a swabbing motion, and then gesture to his pants, not even attempting to hide how amused I am.

Bam folds his arms across his broad chest. “No fucking way.”

“Yes, fucking way.” I hold out the swab. “You want your girl to know you don’t have chlamydia, don’t you?”

Bam doesn’t look impressed.

“I was hoping to penetrate not get penetrated,” he grumbles, taking it from me.

I motion for him to sit. “But before you do that, let’s take some blood.”

“Great,” he moans, slumping into the chair. “Double penetration.”

I tie a tourniquet around his bicep.

“It’ll all be over in a minute,” I say. “Then I’ll leave you alone with your swab.”

“You’re hilarious,” he replies. “How long before you get the results?”

“Two… maybe three days.”

Because I don’t have a medical license—it’s a long story—the club has to rely on our relationship with the medical examiner’s office to get our pathology tests done. But it’s done off the record, so processing is often slow.

“This girl of yours, does she have a name?” I ask.

Bam smiles, and I see something unfamiliar in it. Something I’ve never seen there before. He’s fallen in love. “Cady.”

“Sounds like she might be special considering what you’re doing right now,” I say, taking blood from his arm and releasing the tourniquet.

His eyes sparkle, and he smiles to himself. “Yeah, I think she is.”

I’m surprised. Bam and his brother, Loki, aren’t known for their exclusivity. I didn’t think I’d ever see the day when either of the twins would be ready to settle with one girl.

“Good on you, brother.”

Seems everyone is having sex but me.

But hey, that’s my choice.

The clubhouse is full of opportunity for me and my Kings of Mayhem brothers, but it’s not my thing. I’m not into one-night love, no matter how tempting the offer is, and after years of practice, I find it easy to avoid.

Sex isn’t the only thing I abstain from—there’s also alcohol, cigarettes, and drugs.

After the crushing loss of Christy’s death, I knew the only way to survive was to make my mind as strong as possible. And the only way I could do that was to avoid the things that weakened me.

Like the alcohol that coursed through my veins the night she died.

Like the sex that led to her pregnancy and the chaos afterward that saw me walk out the door to the party.

Like the drugs I succumbed to in the early weeks following her death.

Those were dark days.

One night, after a bender of self-pity partying, drugs, and too much whiskey, I woke up on the side of the road in the freezing cold with no idea how I got there or any clue as to how I got so broken and bloody.

I knew I either had to end it or get strong.

For Christy’s sake, I got strong.

Since then, I’ve been straight edge.

No liquor. No drugs. No women.

And I hit the gym daily.

Although, I do have one vice.

Coffee.

And lots of it.

After Bam leaves, Merrick reappears.

It turns out he doesn’t have an STI, much to his relief. It’s simply a mild case of jock itch. So I give him a tube of antifungal cream, and he’s so thankful he promises to never go bareback again.

“You’ve got my word, Doc. No more tappin’ without the wrappin’.”

Ghoul drops in not long after, and I remove the splinter from his finger without him losing a drop of blood, much to his displeasure.

The rest of the morning is spent writing up notes from the latest medical run we made up to Cooter’s Rise. It’s a small-blink-and-you’d-miss-it town a few hours out of Flintlock, and it has a large aging population.

Lots of sick folks.

Lots of broke folks too.

We have a massive cannabis plantation in the region. It’s a good setup. The farmers let us grow our crops on their land, and in return, we pay them rent in cash, moonshine, and free medical care when it’s needed.

In the afternoon, I hit the gym and put my body through a rigorous training session, pushing my muscles and my tolerance of pain to their limit and then enjoying the high afterward.

Back at the clubhouse, I shower, jerk off, and plan on having a quiet night, just me and a dog-eared edition of Catcher in the Rye.

Until my phone rings just after six.

It’s Jack, my president.

And his wife is in labor.

DOC

“Give me the good news, Doc. Is this baby finally coming?” Bronte asks. “Because I feel like a balloon that’s about to pop. Please say he’s on his way.”

Bronte is one of the sweetest women I know, and even though she complains about being full term and over it, she’s taking everything in her stride. A smile is never far from her face.