Chasing Claire (Hells Saints Motorcycle Club) by Paula Marinaro

doing in the clinic anyway. Let’s go.”
    Jules poured himself another cup of coffee and headed toward the door. For years now, he had been treating the boys for everything from gunshot wounds to the clap. Some of them were already half-dead by the time they got to him, and he hadn’t lost one of the ungrateful motherfuckers yet. But, whether they came to him with a bullet lodged in their chest, or a splinter under their fingernail, they were all the same. They all acted like they were doing Jules a big, huge favor by allowing him to save their sorry asses. And then just like clockwork, every one of them would start screaming and moaning the minute that Jules had to take the needle and nylon to them.
    Little bitch-ass mama’s boys, every last one of them.
    They entered the clinic waiting area.
    “Grab a seat, Brother, the boys are just finishing up the addition. I’ll take care of you here. Be right back. I’m going to go grab an ice pack and some pain pills.” Jules disappeared into the next room. He came back with a vial of prescription drugs and two ice packs.
    He dipped his head toward Reno’s outstretched hand and began to slowly examine it. At least one finger was broken, and all the knuckles were swollen.
    “Ouch!” Reno pulled his hand back as Jules applied pressure to the inflamed hand to check further for breaks. “Show a little tenderness will ya? That’s my hand you’re squeezing, not a goddamn tit.”
    Jules leaned back. “Really? You could have fooled me, because you sure the hell are screaming like a girl.”
    “Shut up,” Reno growled. “Just fix the damn thing. It is killing me, Brother.”
    “Here, take these.” Jules moved the pills toward him. “Eat three of those bad boys and you won’t be feeling anything ’til tomorrow.”
    “Hate swallowing pills,” Reno muttered.
    “You’re lucky you’re not swallowing your own teeth. When are you going to cut this shit out? You ain’t hurting anybody but yourself.”
    Reno gave him a shaky grin. “Yeah? Well you ain’t seen the other guy.”
    Jules snorted.
    “One of your fingers is broken. I have to splint it. I’ll be right back.”
    Just then a shadow moved past the window and Jules grabbed the ice pack off Reno’s swollen knuckles. Reno opened his mouth to begin a stream of profane protests.
    “You can thank me later, Brother.” Jules nodded to the doorway.
    Reno twisted around to look in that direction.
    “Claire.” Jules called to her. “Can you help me out and make sure this ice stays on his hand?”
    Then without waiting for a reply, he tossed the ice pack to her. Claire caught it in one hand, her eyes wide with surprise.
    “Thanks, doll. I have to go grab a splint. Be right back.” Jules held his grin until he turned away from the door.
    “Hey, Claire.” Reno fought hard for the casual tone.
    “Hey, Reno.” Claire fought too.
    Silence followed as Claire moved toward Reno. She placed the ice pack gently on his swollen hand.
    “Right here?” She did not meet his eyes.
    “Yeah, baby. Right there is perfect. Thanks.” He watched as the blush swept over her face.
    She looked at him with clear blue eyes. “You’re welcome.”
    Jules walked back in and let out a low appreciative whistle. “Wow, looking good, babe. What brings you by?”
    Claire smiled prettily at him. Reno let out a low, feral growl that Claire and Jules both pretended not to hear.
    Then Claire winced and raised her knee to show Jules a big, dirty, bleeding scrape.
    “Ouch, darlin’, how did you do that?” Jules moved closer to Claire and wrapped his arm around her knee. Then he pulled that knee slowly toward him.
    Reno tensed beside him—he knew Jules was getting off on it just a little bit. When he ran his hand up and down Claire’s smooth tanned leg and pretended to check it for damage, Reno almost lifted himself off the chair.
    “I’m on my way out to help Glory with her catering gig. I stopped by the kitchen house to grab a couple of