Chapter 27:
The Reapers Kings Clinic sat behind the main clubhouse, a brick building that had been renovated so many times it looked half hospital and half biker territory and stubborn bikers refusing to admit they needed stitches.
Which, according to Mason Cahallan, described ninety percent of his patients.
"Sit still."
The prospect sitting on the examination table winced as Mason pushed another stitch through torn skin.
"Doc, with all due respect," the young man groaned, "I've been sitting still for thirty minutes."
Mason didn't even look up from the shoulder wound.
"Then sit still for five more." The prospect sighed dramatically.
Across the room, Jace leaned against a counter while reviewing paperwork from Colorado.
Cole was sorting through invoices from the club's legal busin
