In Bed With The Outlaw (4 page)

Maybe I could let him down easily. Retreat. Gather my thoughts, then I could face him again, when I wasn’t so horny and my brain wasn’t mush. “I tell you what, you let me go work, and tomorrow we’ll go for another ride. Okay?” That sounded like a nice compromise, also a way for me to run before I melted to a puddle at his boots.

“That ride will be your downfall.”

“Maybe it will. You’ll have to wait and see.”

He left, not before giving my ass a solid spank. I gasped. I panted for air while hiding my rosy cheeks.

“Can’t wait to see that sweet tail on the back of my bike. You’re on, sweet thing.”

So far, so good. The kiss was a slip-up. But how was I supposed to string around this horny animal without giving him a treat every once in a while? I heard his motorcycle rev from outside. I wished I could’ve gone with him, but I had a job to do.

I
t was a long
, stressful day at the diner. All I wanted to do was have a bath and read a book. I could play the part of someone who couldn’t afford nice, lavish things, since I’d been living it my whole life. When Wyatt told me that he needed me to stay in a one-bedroom near the poverty line, I said, “Under one condition, it needs to have a nice bathroom with a big tub.”

Wyatt understood a girl’s need for a nice bathroom. He was good like that.

My apartment was a bedroom, a bathroom, and a living room. The bathroom was spacious, the big, blue tub from the late 80s. The walls were all redone with new paint and the sink and cabinet was brand new too. There wasn’t much to complain about. Right now, I didn’t dare. All I thought about was stripping and sliding into the cool water. It had been sweltering, chokingly hot outside. The diner had kept me running.

Stripping out of my white shirt and my black pants, I let the ladies out, pleased to be freed.  I started the water, squirted some bubbles in, and dropped my black panties. My creamy white skin showed some color. Being in the desert was nice for that.

My nipples looked perky and ripe. My bush was a landing strip. Should I shave it? What should I wear tomorrow? I should wear something not too formal, but not too revealing. I would need to be prepared for Red’s ride. Anticipating it too much? A little too much.

Cutting off the bath water, I slipped in. “That’s perfect,” I moaned and kicked my feet out and curled my toes. If there was anything that could make a stressful day better, it was a long, warm bath.

Few days could beat the stress of a fight between MC members over spanking my ass. Then there was the kiss from Red. A chuckle escaped my lips when I thought about it. I groaned “Oh, God” at myself in response.

It had been a long time since I was kissed like that. My body reminded me. One kiss wasn’t enough. Those lips hooked me. Red knew it. That was the worst part. He knew my weaknesses. Every step I made, somehow I got closer to him.

Spreading my legs onto the side of the tub, I leaned back. Another moan rumbled past my lips, riding the curve of my raised chest to my flared hipbones sticking from the bubbly surface. My purr lasted longer than usual, thrumming against my beating clit. Where was Red’s bike when I needed it?

Tomorrow, I wouldn’t kiss him again if I could help it. If I kept stringing him along with sexual favors, like leaving a trail of crumbs for him, soon enough he would want the whole cake.

I would need to use my words to seduce him. I might be able to do that...but he was relentless.

He was bad news. I was through with bad news. If I ever wanted a family, I needed a real man, one who could support me. Red promised an uncertain future. He might be hot, but how hot would he look in an orange jumpsuit when I would only be able to see him in prison?

I went on a couple dates with the bad types back in my early twenties, not as bad as Red, but still, they were “bad boys,” one in a heavy metal band and another who liked fast cars. None of those relationships went far. After a couple dates and being ditched for a brand-new toy, the bad boys moved on, and I moved on too. I looked at those days with regret.

Mid-twenties brought Sam, which realistically was a bigger waste of time. Sam seemed like the ideal husband, a cop, a respectable member of society. He had a good, supportive job. The stresses of the job got to him. Sam wasn’t a good guy. He was sadly just like my father. Abusive. A liar.

What a waste of time
, I thought. My biological clock was ticking. Sometimes I could swear I heard it beating in my chest. It would alert me to time racing by. It would tell me I needed to hurry. Sometimes I couldn’t sleep with all the energy, that energy telling me I needed to find the one, and quick.

But when I was surrounded with bad guys, when I couldn’t find anyone stable, how was I supposed to jump into another relationship? Even fantasizing about hopping on Red’s motorcycle with him, wrapping my arms around him, and letting the thrumming take control felt guilty. It felt like another opportunity to waste my time.

Something pounded on my front door. Feet swinging back into the tub with a splash, I jumped straight up. I looked toward the noise. It must’ve been a mistake. I wasn’t expecting a visitor.

“Ash,” someone screamed, their voice muffled but urgent.

I felt like sinking into the bubbles and hiding there, but the knocking sounded again. It was a loud, harsh pounding with a heavy fist, like the type cops would do before breaking in.

Oh, fuck,
cops.

It wasn’t the cops. It was
a
cop. Fear rushed to the surface and consumed me. It couldn’t be...I thought being under cover across the United States would stop Sam. Nothing stopped Sam.

“Ash, I know you’re in there,” Sam screamed. “Open up.”

Leaping out of the tub, grabbing a towel, I rushed into my living room. What to do? What could I do? I couldn’t call the cops, could I? No, I couldn’t do that. It would blow my cover. They would start asking questions. The cops were on Sam’s side anyway.

Shaking, tunnel vision closing in, I stood like a wet, scared puppy in my living room. I cursed in my head over and over, looking around, trying to think of my options. I wouldn’t dare speak back to him behind that door.

Rustling followed by clicking and scraping came behind it, my only defense. My handgun was kept in the bedroom. My best bet would be to scare him off with it, if he would even be scared of a loaded gun. He was probably drunk. Too drunk for fear.

Before I could run to my bedroom, the door swung back, the monster standing in the doorway, his lock picks falling to his feet as he opened his arms.

“Ash,” he said. “I’ve missed you.”

Greasy, oily hair parted to the side, with a bigger beer gut than I remembered, Sam walked into my living room. If I made a sudden move and ran to my bedroom, he would catch me, and then he would beat me. I was out of options.

“Stay back, Sam,” I warned him.

Sam didn’t like warnings.

“I came all the way here to see you. Did you think you could run from me forever?”

No, actually, I was hoping you might not be this bat shit crazy.
I should’ve known better.

“Sam, please, leave. I’m on a job.”

He laughed. “Why are you still working? With me, you’d never have to work another day in your life.”

Dread climbed up my throat. My vision blurred, my eyes watered, my lips trembled, my feet sank into the carpet.

“I want you to leave now. If you don’t—”

“Don’t be a bitch,” he snapped. Liquor and sweat dripped from him, staggering me. He snatched my wrist as I tried to pull away.

“You fucking bitch, you’re coming with me.”

Pulled toward the door, I struggled to stand my ground while trying not to antagonize him. It seemed like whatever I did, no matter how nicely I told him to “Go away,” there was no way of calming him.

How could I let myself fall into this again?

This time it was a little different. It would be a single punch. The hatred that I saw in his eyes, the desperation that he reeked of, he meant to kill me.

L
ife was
good as a Blessed Bastard. If not good, a little strange.

Watching the last dribble of gasoline hit the asphalt— God, I loved the smell of gasoline— I finished fueling my bike and returned all the glares around me. They didn’t want to stare, but they wanted to see what a real “Blessed Bastard” looked like. I didn’t blame them. They could look as long as they wanted. So long as they weren’t saying anything, I’d let it slide.

Most, I’d found, were too pussy to stare for long. A kid, wearing a striped polo shirt that looked like it was his mother’s idea, jumped up from the back seat of a van. He hung out, looking at my bike, and yelled, “Cool.”

His brother popped his head through the window too. “I want one,” he said.

Best not to reply. Didn’t want to get in trouble.

“Get in the car right now,” their mother said.

When they didn’t, instead they kept gawking, she hit the button and it slowly slid up. If I were a kid, I’d think it pretty damn cool too.

I still thought it was pretty damn cool. I rode because I enjoyed it. Screw everything else. I was a Blessed Bastard because it was “cool and fun.” I didn’t give a damn for the people barking orders like his mother. The Blessed Bastards weren’t part of their world. We were an independent nation riding on the open roads of America.

I kicked back, letting the engine roar, then pulled out of the gas station, leaving all of them behind, hitting a familiar friend, the desert highway. Public places could be claustrophobic. The private world of the club and the freedom of the road were my sanctuaries.

It was time to head back west to the club, but I got this nagging feeling I should check up on Ash again. I would drive by her apartment, do the rounds, and then call it a night before I bordered on stalkerish behavior...if I hadn’t passed that line already.

When Ash wouldn’t tell me about the man who beat her, I knew she was hiding something. I was sure I wanted to fuck her. Never in my life had I been so sure of anything else. But there was something else gnawing away at my gut. She seemed more like the old lady type, the type you settled down with, but there was this irrational part to her, the part that kept resisting, and at times, she seemed too out of control for her own good.

Just the sight of her got me hard and ready. All of me wanted to possess this girl, all of me called out to claim her, fuck her and take her as my own. I tried to settle that, to remain not so savage around her, and I thought I was doing a good job. She might have other opinions. Knowing that catty chick, she definitely had a lot.

Obsessing over her like this wasn’t usual. Since when did I ever get so wrapped up in a girl I wanted to fuck? But I kept telling myself that she was a special case. I couldn’t let Ash be hurt again. I just couldn’t. I drove back for another quick check. If that asshole who hit her still hung around, I would be pissed that she lied to me, but I knew why she would. She wouldn’t want me to kill for her.

Ash didn’t live in the best area, on the line of the poor and middle class section of Nevada in a crammed-in block of apartments. Not bad, but certainly not where I would house her if she was mine. There were rows of houses with small backyards in each one. I got the impression that you’d never get any privacy since everyone would be using theirs, but it was better than nothing. Most apartments around here didn’t give you a backyard.

Something wasn’t right when I pulled up to her apartment. For one, the door was open. Fearing something wasn’t right and trusting my gut, I slammed the kickstand down and rushed to the door.

As soon as I got to the walkway, I knew I made the right decision. I heard a man’s voice from inside. His voice was strained and harsh. They were both in the living room, a burly, wasted man holding her viciously by the wrist as she struggled. I could see the pain and fear in her eyes, the look of confusion and betrayal.

I heard one word come out of his mouth, “Bitch,” and I stormed from the doorway.

He never saw it coming.

I was hardly conscious I was so angry. Seeing someone pure-hearted like Ash being taken advantage of brought back some bad memories, and I lost it. I could usually keep my cool, but this time, I wasn’t thinking about anything other than inflicting the most excruciating pain on this fuck. This fuck didn’t deserve to live, that much was clear. This type of fuck could destroy your faith in the human race.

Snatching him by the neck, I yanked, snapping his head back.

“Surprise, motherfucker,” I said, slowly and deliberately, a promise that I would tear him limb from limb.

“Wha—” he started, but he didn’t get a chance to say a full word.

I flung him back with all of my power, tossing him to the floor. Moaning, his eyes rolling, the drunk was too stunned to fight. Past the pounding blood in my ears, I could hear a girl’s muffled screaming. It must’ve been Ash.

I dragged him to his feet, rocking, dancing my way with a wild punch that I took to the chest. A dull pain throbbed around the lip of my right rib, but it didn’t stop me.

“You’re going to see what it feels like for once.”

He wavered. One punch to his lip and it busted and he rocked back. I swung a hook, this one rocking him across the jaw. He spun, tilting, but not falling yet, his lips blabbering something incomprehensible.

“Stop,” I heard behind me.

No. Too late to stop. This was happening. He deserved this.

Before he could fall, I grabbed him by the back of the neck and flung him toward the back doors, a glass sliding one that might kill him. I wasn’t sure what I was trying to do, kill him or not, but he needed to hurt. He needed to remember. Don’t fuck with a Blessed Bastard or their women again.

He crashed through. It must’ve been made with some shoddy material, or maybe I threw him too hard. The glass shattered and then all was silent as I casually walked over to her couch, sat down, and stared ahead, trying to cool off, trying to come back to reality and out of my murderous rage.

“Are you okay?” Ash asked me. When I focused again, her eyes were sparkling and her lips bunched up in worry, close to mine, calling for me to steal a kiss again. My muscles still pumped with adrenaline, ready for me to finish the job.

“Fine, beautiful,” I said. “Sorry for the mess. I’ll clean it up.”

I was still out of it, but those crystal clear eyes brought me back. My anger slowly subsided. Anger couldn’t last long when you were looking at a pretty girl like that.

“We need to get out of here,” I said.

She nodded. Then she pointed to her ex, grumbling and crawling on her patio. At least he wasn’t dead. It would’ve complicated things. I didn’t want to explain to my brothers what happened, that I was staking out Ash’s apartment, and I didn’t want to explain it to her, either. It would just be a mess.

“Stay here,” I said.

“Don’t kill him. You’ve done enough,” she said, sounding a little angry at me. She probably had a right to be angry. I made a mess of her already cramped apartment, showering the floor with glass and overturning a table.

“I’m not,” I said. I wasn’t sure what I would do once I got to him, but I didn’t want to kill him.

He looked up at me, lips blubbering, eyes bulging in full-blown shock. No heavy bleeding, no deep cuts, so it looked like he would survive. He was lucky.

“You won’t get away with this. I’m a cop,” he said.

If Ash didn’t help me out of my rage earlier, I might’ve ended him there, but because of her help, I simply laughed. How many times had I heard stories like this, about people who thought they were outside The Blessed Bastards’ control? The Blessed Bastards controlled everything.

“I’m part of an order much bigger and badder than the police. Some police, they can get away with murder, but me, I make a living out of it.” I might have exaggerated a little, but what did he know? It was true I could probably get away with killing him. We had lots of people in the government on our payroll. He wasn’t worth the trouble.

“I’m a Blessed Bastard.”

“A blessed what?”

He fumbled, trying to stand up, but he only skid his fat ass across the patio. If he wasn’t careful, he was going to cut himself on the sea of glass.

“A Blessed Bastard. A one percenter. I’m part of a gang, you dumb shit, and this girl is under my protection. If you don’t piss off, I’m going to have to kill you next time, and it won’t be a fast death, it’ll be a slow, painful one. You got it?”

He didn’t say anything.

“I’m going to remove you from this yard. I suggest you don’t come in contact with her again. Think of this as an official restraining order, but the consequences are more severe. Next time you’re dead.”

I peeled my jacket to the side to show him I was carrying.

He half sneered, half smiled. Not wanting to deal with him any longer than I already had, I grabbed him by the shoulders and helped him out. He took one last, painful look at me, and then he stumbled out of the yard, fumbling at the back fence, not sure how to work it, but then once he figured it out, he staggered out of view.

I found Ash trembling and whimpering on her couch.

“Hey, babe, you all right?” She seemed so together a second ago. It must’ve been all the adrenaline. I sat on the couch next to her and rested her in my arms. She didn’t look anywhere but straight ahead for three long minutes, then she peered up at me with gorgeous eyes that grappled at my protective streak.

“He’s gone? You think he’s gone for good?”

“He won’t be coming back for a while. If he does, he’s dead,” I told her. She nodded slowly and stared ahead again.

“Let’s go for a ride,” I said. “It’ll calm you down and give the guys a chance to clean this place up.”

“The guys?” Her eyes came alive.

“The crew will stop by and help clean the place up. Sorry about that, again.”

She brushed me off. “I’ll take care of it. I don’t want to get you guys involved more than you are.”

Interesting. She didn’t want to get involved with the lifestyle, that much was clear. Didn’t she want her door fixed, though? This girl could get on my nerves. I didn’t completely understand her, but I certainly wanted to.

“You want your door to remain like that? You want to walk around on glass? What do you want me to do?”

“I’ll take care of it.”

“If you don’t want the crew to take care of it, I’ll hire a private contractor to come and clean it up. Is that fair?”

“That’s fair,” she said, crossing her arms, not because she wanted me to leave, but to stop her trembling.

“Get yourself changed real quick. Throw on some jeans and a t-shirt. Then we’ll go for the ride.” I nodded to her. She took off to her bedroom. It didn’t take that long.

“I look a mess,” she moped when she returned.

“I don’t agree with that at all. Let’s go for that ride.” I put my hand out, expecting that she take it.

Her hand resting in mine, I fought the urge to think “She’s mine,” but it was impossible to keep my wants at bay.

We went to the bike.

I sure hoped it could cure her problems like it cured mine.

I hopped on the back of his motorcycle while wondering what he was thinking. Why would this help? It might work for him, a bike freak, but for me, a bookworm? Curling up in my sheets, forgetting this day even happened, that was helpful.

“Arms around me,” he reminded me.

I slid closer until we touched, my breasts pressed against his solid back, my crotch against his ass. In my rattled state, I couldn’t help but peek at his butt in those jeans. It lightened my mood. How couldn’t it? Having my arms around him, I had to admit it felt good to be close.

The engine roaring, the huge vibrator normally would’ve aroused me, but in my state, it kept me from sinking into depression. We were simply joy riding. Or so I hoped. I hoped Red wasn’t going to pull a fast one and bring me to the club. All those patches still freaked me out. They reminded me of all the horror stories I stumbled on while researching.

One monster for another,
I repeated to myself again.
Don’t do it.

On the highway, the climbing speed stripped my fears away. They were insignificant now. I simply held on and enjoyed the ride. It was like that magical minute after an orgasm, experiencing life unfiltered. It had been a while since I’d experienced an orgasm like that. Being on the back of Red’s ride came close.

We rode until my hands numbed, the rumbling between my thighs got me thinking about that bathtub again and how close I got to pleasuring myself. Only Red could get me horny after almost being murdered by my abusive ex. My building arousal was cut short once we turned off an exit, blowing past the sign too fast for me to read.

“Where are we going?” I yelled ahead.

“You’ll see,” he yelled back. I didn’t like the sound of that, but what choice did I have but to trust him?

Soon after the exit, we pulled off onto a dirt road. It was a bumpy ride, jostling me around, and giving me cause to scream and ask him if he was sure we needed to do this. He didn't respond, which creeped me out more. He kept driving, avoiding the extra craggy sections as we sped off into the desert.

Up ahead, two curved, eroded rock towers nearly met and formed an arch. We blazed past them and farther away from civilization. The road stopped at a circular dead end, wild brush and ember mountains blocking us in. To our right, there was a rocky path that led up a steep hill.

I braced myself to be thrown off the bike as we hit the off-road trail, but he kept us upright. His bike was powerful, his keen senses good at navigating.

“Are you sure about this?” I screamed up to him.

He didn’t say anything. He kept going.

I guess that settled it.

We took the top of the hill fast. The bike left the air for a brief, terrifying second. It was enough to make me scream and dig my nails into his leather. I hoped that wasn't an offense against The Blessed Bastards, but at that point, I didn't really care.

“You can let go now,” he said.

When I opened my eyes, we were on level ground. There was an open space dug out of the rocks pointing to a small overlook where others had imprinted the trail with mountain bike tracks.