Jo called Melanie to help with the triage of the deviant testosterone-charged men.
Matt sat in the corner, his head in his hands, an angry wife at his side.
“A bar fight,” she said a second time for good measure.
Melanie had ignored the drunken comments as she walked into the back room, but took note of the unfamiliar faces as she passed them by.
She opened the first aid kit Jo had handed her before pointing her toward the men.
She removed a jar of Betadine and poured a generous portion onto a gauze pad and pushed Luke’s hand away from his face before mopping up some of the mess.
“Ouch!”
“You can’t feel too much with the amount of alcohol swimming in your veins.”
Luke pulled away and winced as his back hit the wall.
Melanie moved to his side and pushed up the edge of his shirt. Sure enough, there was a scratch taking up the left side of his back, complete with what looked like a couple of decent size splinters from a broken table.
“Good Lord. Poor Josie. I bet her place is jacked.”
“Poor Josie, what about me?” Luke asked.
Melanie rolled her eyes and helped Luke out of his shirt.
She fumbled through the first aid kit and found a pair of tweezers. With more than a little bit of pleasure, she poured hydrogen peroxide over Luke’s back and watched a grown man whimper. “And Jo . . . you know how hard it is for her to police this town. The last thing she needs to do is pull your sorry ass in here.”
“They started it,” Wyatt said from his quiet corner in the room.
Melanie stopped picking at the wood in Luke’s back and glared. “You sound like a teenager.”
“It’s true,” Luke said.
“I don’t think it matters to Jo. Everyone throwing punches gets hauled in. That’s what she said on the phone.”
“Jeez, Mel . . . be careful back there,” Luke whined.
“Suck it up.” She was less than gentle but managed to get the splinters out before placing a generous amount of medicated cream on his back, along with a bandage.
She moved to Wyatt.
“I’m okay.”
“Yeah, that’s why you’re bleeding.”
“It’s stopped.” He pulled the gauze away from the cut above his eye to prove it.
It looked like he could use a stitch or two.
“Needs to be cleaned,” she told him.
He hissed but didn’t pull away when she saturated the cut with hydrogen peroxide. Wyatt kept watch with his one good eye as she removed the clotted blood and cleaned him. “I think this needs a stitch.”
“I’m sure there’s a butterfly in there,” Wyatt said.
“I don’t know.”
“It’s fine, Mel.”
She dug again, found a fancy bandage to hold the edges of his eyebrow together. When she finished, she placed a large Band-Aid over the whole thing. “Anything else?” she asked, poking his shoulders and glancing at his back.
“If you want to take my shirt off, go ahead. But I think I’m good.” He was smiling at her.
“Brat.”
He managed a wink with his bad eye.
Jo strode into their room a few minutes later, words tumbling out of her mouth. “Next time take the fight outside. Did you see the damage to R&B’s?”
“They started it, Jo!” Luke took one look at Jo and added, “Sheriff.”
“Yeah, well, several people saw you fall into that jackass. Ty’s friends said you rushed him.”
“That’s crap—”
She waved off Wyatt’s comment. “Doesn’t matter. They’re screaming self-defense and you yourself said you tried to stop the fight, Wyatt. Putting your hands on someone first.”
“But—”
She stopped him with a hand in the air. “It’s all a ‘he said, he said’ game. Comes down to one thing . . . are you pressing charges?” Jo looked between them. “And before you answer, know that if you press charges, they will press charges, and Josie will have to go that route as well. Right now she’s willing to let it rest as long as you guys promise to repair the damage.”
“Even those yahoos out there?” Matt asked.
Jo shrugged her shoulders. “Everyone is booked, or no one is booked.”
Wyatt hedged his arm toward Luke, nodded at Matt. “We’ll make sure Josie’s taken care of.”
“Good choice,” Jo said before twisting around and marching out of the room.
It took ten minutes for Jo to clear out the bikers and return to them. Matt’s wife promptly stormed out of the station, her husband in tow.
When it was just the four of them in the room alone, Jo shook her finger at both of them. “Don’t ever make me fucking arrest you. Damn, Luke . . . what were you thinking?”
“I’m blaming the liquor.”
“It’s not even midnight,” Jo pointed out.
“Yeah. It won’t happen again, Jo.”
Melanie saw a cloud pass over Luke’s eyes and she knew the reason behind the alcohol.
“And you,” Jo pointed at Wyatt.
Wyatt didn’t offer a liquor excuse. “Can’t watch a friend take a beating, Jo. If you need to cuff me, do it. I won’t hold it against you.”
Jo’s chest heaved with every breath she took. “Take them home, Mel.”
Then she was gone.
Melanie dropped Luke off first since he lived close, then drove Wyatt to R&B’s to retrieve his truck.
A sign on the door said the bar was closed until further notice.
Mel parked next to Wyatt’s truck. “Is it that bad in there?” she asked.