Keeping What's His: Tate (Porter Brothers Trilogy 1)

Sutton’s mouth dropped open. “You can’t stay here. You’re bleeding all over the place.”

“Then patch me up.” Tate staggered to her couch with the dish cloth pressed to his chest.

“I don’t know how.”

“Boil some water. You have any disinfectant?”

Sutton could see it was useless to argue with him. The stubborn man would bleed to death if she didn’t help him.

Throwing him an irritated glance, she went into the bathroom, searching through the cabinets and finding hydrogen peroxide and some gauze. Carrying both back to the living room, she went to the kitchen to place a kettle of water on to boil.

“Help me get this off.” Tate was trying to pull off his shirt, which was drenched in blood.

Setting down the disinfectant and gauze on the end table by the couch, she then helped Tate take off his shirt. His face was pasty white, and he was covered in a sheen of sweat when they finished.

“I’m going to throw up.”

Hastily, Sutton ran to the kitchen, grabbing a bowl she had set out to pour the hot water into. Running back, she managed to place it in Tate’s hands before he vomited.

She went back into the kitchen, opening one of the kitchen drawers where she found a clean dishcloth and dampened it with cold water. She went back to Tate who was still heaving into the large bowl. Placing the cloth on the back of his neck, she sat down next to him on the couch, helping him to hold the bowl.

“You have to let me call an ambulance. You’re going into shock.”

“No, just give me a second.” He managed to lift his head, his hand dragging the cloth from the back of his neck to press it against his face.

“Finished?”

Tate nodded weakly, leaning back on the couch.

“At least let me call Greer or Dustin?”

“No,” he refused. “The cops will be waiting to follow them. Call Rachel. She can fix me up, and Cash can sneak her in without being seen.”

Sutton immediately took the phone Tate handed her, pressing the number Cash had given her.

“Hello?”

“Cash, this is Sutton.”

“What’s up?”

“I have Tate at my house. He’s hurt. He needs Rachel.”

“Tell him he’s shit out of luck. I’m not letting my wife get involved with the mess he’s in. Knox has already come here, looking for him. He should turn himself in.”

“He didn’t do it, Cash. He said someone is pinning it on him, and you and I both know no one in town will believe he’s innocent.” Sutton couldn’t understand why she was coming to Tate’s defense.

“Fuck!” She heard him talk to someone in the background, and then Cash’s voice came back on the line. “Give me five. I’ll see what I can do.”

“Thanks, Cash.”

The line was disconnected.

“He’s pretty mad,” she commented.

“What’s new?” Tate grunted, shifting on the couch.

She stood up and went into her bathroom to dispose of the vomit then grabbed a pillow, taking it back to the living room where she laid it down on the arm of the couch.

“Lie down,” she ordered.

He fell down more than he lay down. Then Sutton went to the linen closet, pulling out several towels before going back to Tate. She pried his hand away from the dish cloth he had pressed against his stab wound, placing a clean towel down on the gaping hole. She thought she might throw up herself.

“You should go to the hospital.”

“No.” Tate groaned in pain when she pressed down on the towel, trying to stop the bleeding. “I should have kept my ass inside when I heard those shots.”

“Yes, you should have,” Sutton agreed as she heard the sound of motors from outside. “What in the world is that?”

“From the sound, I think my brother-in-law brought a few of his friends to help.”

Sutton left Tate on the couch, going to the window to look outside. Her mouth dropped open at the sight of her driveway being filled with motorcycles.

“I’m not opening the door to them.”

Tate gave a strangled laugh. “How many did he bring?”

“Six.”

“The fucker couldn’t be inconspicuous if he tried.”

Sutton jumped when she heard a knock on the door.

“Let them in.”

“Hell no. You’re safer in jail.”

From the look of the men she had seen getting off those motorcycles, help wasn’t what they were going to be giving Tate. They were more likely to finish the job of his unknown assailant.

“Let them inside. They’ll know how to stop the bleeding.”

Sutton reluctantly went to the door. Her hand trembling, she opened the door slowly so the group of men could file inside. She stood by the door, trying to decide if she should make a run for it while she had the opportunity. Or so she thought until she noticed one of the bikers standing outside the door with his arms crossed against his chest. He was wearing sunglasses and covered in tattoos.