Page 29 of Bleed Me

“A mirror.”

“Can you use it?”

Was I really going to puss out in front of a female biker who outranked me? “I’m good. Hook me up.”

She had my hand float between us. “Watch and learn.” She started wrapping my wrist first. Then between my thumb and first finger, only to wrap the gauze around my wrist again. I noticed a scar on her right palm as she talked. “There are ‘nervous’ and dangerous dogs and there are ‘confident’ and dangerous dogs.” She continued to repeat the gauze process, now with my other fingers, while giving instructions, “Make a fist… Good… Relax it.” Then she would wrap more. For being on the tougher side of a female, her own hands were surprisingly soft. “Can you tell me the difference between the two dogs?”

“Not really.”

Those eyelashes opened up to let me see the glass eyes they sheltered. “One trusts his owner. The other doesn’t.”

My head tilted. Yes, I wanted to be a smartass with a comeback, but something told me if I did, I would miss her valuable meaning. So, I waited for more.

She wedged the gauze under her arm so she could maneuver the tape next. “The dog with trust is a very formidable guard. The one with no trust bites everyone who may or may not be a threat. He can’t differentiate between danger and no risk.”

I thought of my personalities and wondered if they had the same problem.

When Justice was done with my right hand, she put my left hand between us and started wrapping. “A nervous dog means a nervous owner or no owner at all.” She shrugged. “One and the same, in my opinion.”

Was I my own owner? Were my personalities a sign of me not owning myself?

Those incredible eyes looked up to me again. “I am owned by a club. As are you.” She squinted. “Can you trust your owner?”

I instantly remembered Daytona, when Diesel threatened Art with his “powerful dogs,” meaning his men. They had stared at Art, knowing exactly who they belonged to. Their President.

My spine stiffened, not in fear of being owned, but in an awareness that I belonged somewhere. It was like my spinal cord became more confident with the much-needed leadership I couldn’t offer myself at the time.

The hand holding the tape tapped my chest. “And there it is.” She backed away. “So, trust in the club. Trust in me.” She set down the gauze and tape on a nearby table. She made it clear her hands were free to protect herself. “Now, take off your shirt.”

She didn’t move or speak. Just waited.

Trust… My fingers felt restrained under the wrapping, but I liked the sensation. I felt as if I had more control with the limitation, if that makes any sense at all. Whether the wrap or Justice gave me that security, I wasn’t sure at the time, but I removed my t-shirt; a metaphor for a huge step in my recovery.

Those eyes raked across my chest and stomach. “You look like you’ve been in a car wreck.”

Since I had, I said nothing as I tossed the shirt aside.

She circled me, examining and thinking out loud. “James is not supposed to talk of his past. Hmmm… but Justice is curious.” Facing me again, she said, “I like the challenge of a puzzle.” When I said nothing, she turned her back to me and walked closer to a hanging bag. “Part of my job as Road Captain is to know who I’m having on the road.” She circled the bag. “My brother knows this well. Hence, why he is testing your identity.”

"My identity… Wait. Your brother?”

“Yep. The only other fucker with grey eyes in Stallions.”

Grey eyes? Fucking President.

Her red-lipped smirk said she knew I had caught on. “Since we’re preppin’ a bike for you, I needed to know who I’m responsible for. He won’t tell me shit, except your name: James Gunn Dalton.” She pushed the bag to make it swing. “Whoever came up with your identity did a damn good job. Can’t lie, but I found some discrepancies.”

My body jolted, but I didn’t say shit.

“Don’t worry. I only found them because I take my rank with so much pride it’s dangerous. I worked hard to earn my spot in the club and don’t need some dick tellin’ me I got it due to who my brother is.”

I respected that.

“Thank you.”

My brows bunched. “I didn’t say anything.”

“Oh, but you did. So, thank you.” She dipped her chin.