Shot to Hell (Four Horsemen MC #7) Read Online Free Page A

get somethin’ to hit.
    “Meeting adjourned.” Axel brought the gavel down. The brothers filed out of the room, but the president grabbed his arm before Steele made it. “Not so fast.”
    Steele sank back down into his chair . Damn. When the boss man wants to see you all private-like, it’s never a good sign. “S’up, prez?”
    “You doin’ okay, Steele? Need anything? I know you and Yo were tight.”
    Fuck, he hated this sympathy crap. Everyone had been tiptoeing around him since he’d been found unconscious and bloody. They should be pissed him at him for failing the club and his brother. If he’d been watching his flank, none of this would’ve have gone down. They would’ve delivered the heroin, and Yo would be fine. He’d put everyone in danger—but then again, Steele had a bad track record. He’d been a screw-up all his life, so why would this situation be any different?
    Axel should’ve kicked his ass out of the Horsemen, but he hadn’t even read him the riot act he deserved.
    Steele sucked in a breath. “ Are. Not were . He ain’t dead.”
    The president clapped him on the shoulder. “If you ever need to talk….”
    “Thanks, man. I’ll let you know. Anythin’ else, Axel?”
    “No, we’re good.”
    Steele beat feet the fuck out of there and met up with Duke in the hallway. As per usual, his brother was dressed from head to toe in inky black to match his soul . He had dark hair and eyes, stood an inch or two taller than Steele, and was also in his thirties.
    Unlike Axel, Duke kept his trap shut and hadn’t said a fucking word about the situation, which was unusual. His brother typically didn’t mind busting his chops over a screw-up.
    But then again, Duke was a dick. Although, ever since he’d gotten hot and heavy with Daisy’s baby sister, he’d been… nice . Well, not nice—Duke would never be nice. But less of a dick. Dick Light.
    Sometimes Steele caught the man smiling . Smiling! It gave Steele the willies—like watching General Patton do a dance number or something.
    That just ain’t right.
    They strolled into the main room together, and Duke kicked a chair toward him.  “Have a seat, brother, and take off your shirt.”
    Steel obligingly sat down and lifted the fabric over his head, wincing at the movement.
    “How ya feelin’?” Duke peeled the gauze from the wounds to examine it.
    Steele hissed as some of the gauze stuck to the edges of a cut. “Like some dickhead sliced up my chest with a Ginsu knife.”
    Sometimes when he closed his eyes, Steele could still feel the knife sinking into flesh. Two men held him down, sitting on his legs, pinning his arms. As he’d thrashed, trying to break free, a grinning, bearded bastard had sliced him up, Freddy Krueger-style.
    Steele had to hand it to the Raptors, it’d been a well-executed blitz attack. He’d never heard them coming. He’d been exhausted from the drug run and not paying attention to the surroundings. 
    Like a dumbass rookie.
    The last thing Steele had heard was a grunt coming a few feet away and a dragging sound as the Raptors had carted Coyote off. He’d passed out afterward from blood loss and exhaustion.
    Duke continued examining him. “This all looks good. You’re lucky they didn’t cut you any deeper.”
    “Yeah, I’m real lucky.”
    His brother ignored the sarcasm. “I don’t see any sign of infection, and you’ve stopped bleeding.  You’re takin’ the antibiotics according to my instructions?”
    “Yeah.” He’d written it all out and slapped them on his fridge.
    “And the painkillers?”
    “Yeah, takin’ those, too. Steele can read,” he grunted, caveman-style.
    “Really?  Because I wasn’t sure.” He grabbed a few rolls of gauze and some medical tape from his black leather doctor’s bag and tossed them to Steele. “Keep washing the wounds and changin’ the dressings twice a day.”
    “Will do, brother. We done here?” He stood as if Duke had already agreed.
    “Yeah, you’re