First, a heartfelt thank-you to all who serve or have served, to the families of those who made the supreme sacrifice in service to their country.
Today’s #1LineWed is all about the action. And with my rowdy bunch of vets, action is their middle name. This particular vet is Staff Sergeant Ryan “Hardass” Tyree. Hardy is the Nightriders’ National Vice President. He’s also a combat medic. He’d been a member of the Fighting 69th before Hannah McIntire managed to get all the Wolves off the radar. Hardy ended up with the Nightriders, though he still fights the nightmares. The following is pretty graphic. These are outlaw motorcycle members so…I hope you enjoy it anyway.
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I woke up in the cage. Wasn’t the first time. Been awhile since I lost my shit so bad the brothers had to lock me down. Fucking PTSD. Gravedigger hunkered on his heels in front of me and passed a bottle of cold water through the bars.
“Wanna tell me what the hell happened?” His expression was cold and the four claw marks across his chest hadn’t quite healed.
Fuck. I’d fought him? Digger was the Nightriders’ enforcer. I was gawddamned lucky to still be breathing. “I was watching out for Ginny.”
“Yeah, we know. I had a provisional on her. He saw you, called for reinforcements.”
I scrubbed my hands over my face. “He hit her. Her old man. Some Hell Dogs were there, drinking. He told her to service them.”
Digger grimaced but didn’t say anything.
“Ginny tried to get away. He grabbed her hair, forced her to her knees. Fuck, Dig. They were out there in front of the trailer with their fuckin’ dicks wagging in her face. She fought. He hit her again. Took her down.” I swallowed the dry heave surging up from my gut. “He was gonna rape his own daughter.”
“Your wolf lost his shit.”
“Yeah.”
“You’re damn lucky the provisional is one of us.”
“Yeah.”
“That all you got to say for yourself?”
“She okay?”
“No. She’s fucked up. She’s at Doc’s clinic. Says she should be in ICU but understands why we couldn’t take her there.”
I couldn’t breathe. Had I hurt her? I didn’t think that was possible. My wolf was a monster and I didn’t always remember what I did in wolf form when the damn PTSD kicked in, but he’d never hurt Ginny. Ginny was ours.
“One of the Dogs shot you, took you down.” Only then did I realize I had a bandage above my hip bone. Digger continued, “They were fucking you up, along with Ginny. You shifted, took out the Dogs and her old man before we could get there. The provisional knew better than to get in the middle.”
“Did…was it me? Did I hurt her? You?”
“Wolf nailed me while Doc worked you.” He shrugged it off. “She’s not on you. One of the Dogs did her with a knife.
My wolf snarled, fighting to get loose. Good thing I was still in the cage.
“Gotta know, bro. Have you mated her?”
I shook my head. I’d never even kissed her, but I knew. She was my mate. My wolf had known the first time he got a whiff of her.
Digger wrapped his hand around mine where I griped the bar. “She might not make it.”
I howled, started to shift. Digger’s touch kept me human. Barely.
“Dammit, Hardy. I really wish this wasn’t on you. Love? It fucks you up. Love winds up shredding your heart because there’s not a gawddamned thing you can do when it’s taken away.”
True that. I let my wolf take over. One of us had to survive, and wolves don’t commit suicide.
****
If you’re out and about today and see a veteran, thank them. Maybe buy them a cup of coffee. Starbucks is doing a neat deal. If you buy one of their Veteran’s Day gift cards–physical or email, they will donate $5.00 to the USO. Cool, huh?
Silver James 