Savage: Iron Dragons MC (39 page)

Chapter 13: Wipeout

I feel the crash before I can hear it. Metal and gravel scrape against my body, and my hands instinctively shoot up towards my head where my helmet once was. Then, there are screeches and the familiar smell of burnt rubber. I land somewhere soft and wet, rolling myself away from my motorcycle in case it explodes.

I’ve been here before.

When I was fourteen, I stole my old man’s chopper and took it for a joyride around my neighborhood. No one paid any mind to it. I was a huge teenager, so I looked at least twenty and the bike only aged me. Plus, the rest of the neighborhood wouldn’t dare mess with my daddy. He was spitfire mean and didn’t give a fuck about what people said about him. And when I rode his bike, I could understand why.

But it was short-lived. Just like today, I rode too close to traffic and managed to spin out on a slick patch. The bike went flying underneath me, and I ended up about twenty feet away in the muddy marshes. Unlike today’s crash, the bike wasn’t damaged. I was able to get up, dust myself off, and ride home without anyone knowing what I had done.

This time, I had an audience. Sierra rides her car past me, her window finally rolled down. I had been trying to get her attention for the last few miles, but she was hell-bent on making it home. The note she had left me said as much. And frankly, I wouldn’t blame her with what I did inside Guzman’s compound. That little stunt lost me whatever points I had from dinner and screwing.

After a few seconds of staring at me blankly, she turns the car off and darts from the driver’s seat. I watch wordlessly as she grabs at the hem of her new red skirt and begins ripping at a long strip of fabric. Her hands shake, as she reaches up to my forehead, just barely able to get to the spot where I had cut myself against my handlebars.

Her voice sounds frail, as if she was the one in the accident. “Are you okay?” she whimpers. “Are you hurt? I don’t know who to call here or where to take you. What can I do?”

I grabbed hold of her hand, steadying her enough so that she can finally look me in the eye. “Sierra,” I say, more tenderly than I’d intended, “I’m okay. I’m fine. I’ve done much, much worse on the road before. This is nothing.”

She looks down at my Harley; its bike tire still spinning and the engine smoking dangerously, and says, “But what about the bike? What are you going to do?”

“Don’t worry about it. I have guys on call who fix things like this. But we need to get off the road and into the car. It’s not safe out here. Abe’s crew is running routes from Carrlito apparently, and if they see me, you’re dead too.” I grab hold of her shoulders as I emphasize my last part. “And this time, I mean it. I can’t protect you against them out here.”

She hesitates, as she drops the cloth off of my head. “So what happened in that guy’s place was a…?”

“It was a lie. If my men wouldn’t have killed you, they would have. You were fucking stupid to follow me in the first place. If they found you after I had gone, you wouldn’t be alive to steal my car.”

A small smirk of a smile crosses her face, and she lightens up almost instantly. Whatever I said had relieved her. “Sorry about the car. It’s a really nice ride.”

“It should be for as much as I paid for it.” I reach into my pocket and pull out my cell phone. I dial my man back in town and speak quickly in broken Spanish. I then turn back to Sierra, who is practically pacing up and down the empty highway with her arms crossed around each other. “Manuel is coming,” I say, “but it’s going to be about an hour or two. We have to wait here. I suggest we pull the bike and hide it behind that tree and then take the car and pull it over as much as possible so we aren’t seen.”

“Is that,” she pauses, knowing the answer, “safe?”

I walk towards her slowly with my hands shoved deep into my pockets. I hover over her as I speak in a low and serious tone. She needs to understand this if she is going to go any further with me. “Sierra, nothing about me is safe. This is what my life is like. It’s plotting and kingpins and guns. It’s ordering people around to kill and die for me. I’m not asking you to be a part of it, but if you’re going to get my help with the Carmen stuff, you’re going to have to forget about being safe all the time.”

Something I said triggers that leopard in her. She spins away, her shoulder-length, dark hair spinning with her in midair. “Helping me? After what I heard at that man’s place or fort or whatever, it sounds more like you’re helping yourself start a war against my friends and family. I don’t think you want to help Carmen out at all.”

“It’s true.” She looks over her shoulder, totally shocked. I continued slowly, “I don’t want to help Carmen. I don’t give a fuck about your roommate. And yeah, I want a war. Because those bastards are trying to start something with me. Guzman proved it to me. They are the ones instigating this. They are the ones you should be afraid of.”

She kicks dirt backwards as she heads again towards the car. “You’re lying to me, Tank. This whole thing, last night included, was just some game to you. Bed an Aztec legacy girl and see what happens… but I’m not going to let you get away with this.”

I grab her arm and throw her hard against the glass window of my car. She doesn’t flinch or try to wrestle away. Instead, she looks up at me with her jaw thrust out. Sierra is trying to fight back the best way she knows how, but I can’t let her win.

“You think last night was a fucking lie? I could have any girl I wanted. And I screwed you, and you liked it, too. Didn’t you, you little tease?” I place one of my hands on her shivering thigh and begin slowly tracing my hand up the bare skin and under the ripped hemline.    

She slowly moves her hands to my chest, sinking them underneath my leather jacket before pushing me backwards. “Don’t treat me like that! I’m not one of your women ready to blow you. I’m not here to have sex with you! I’m here to get answers. I don’t want to be used by you.”

Her honesty strikes me like a baseball bat to the head. Usually that whole bad-boy attitude works wonders with chicks like her. But I can tell by the way she shakes and her voice waivers that I’m getting nowhere with her.

I decide to try another approach. I slow my voice, as I approach her again. I stand next to her, leaning my back against the hot black car. “I’m not using you,” I insist. “I need you here. And I need to protect you.”

“Then say that, Tank. I don’t want to be jerked around.”

I smile at her, my eyes dancing in the sunlight. “I wouldn’t call what we did last night ‘jerked around.’”

And then, she snorts. It’s one of those surprised laughs most girls are embarrassed over when it happens. But she just keeps laughing. Her mood eases, her shoulders rise and fall as they settle in a more relaxed position. She turns back to look at me, just in time for the sunlight to illuminate the brown halo of hair.

“Are you going to help me move my Harley or not?” I ask, changing the subject.

She nods, as I give her instructions on how to safely lift it. The machine is still hot, so I use the red cloth from her skirt to wrap around my hands as I push up from the motor and she helps balance the handles. We slowly push it up a small hill and place it behind a tree about two hundred feet from the road.

Both of us brush off our hands as we walk away and back towards the car still sitting at the side of the road. Both of our footsteps slow as we approach the highway until we come to an impromptu dead stop. I turn to look at her. The daylight is hitting her in the best places—along her slender shoulders, between the curves of her waist, at the gap between her thighs.

She brushes away some strands of hair, and I laugh as she smears a bit of motor oil on the side of her cheek. “Don’t move,” I say. She watches me curiously as I lick my thumb and wipe away at the black, crescent-shaped stain along the side of her face. My hand wraps around the back of her neck and under her hair to steady her head.

Sierra looks up at me with those two playful brown eyes, and I can’t resist. I take a quick step towards her body and lean down. My arms wrap around her waist, enveloping her in my grasp. My lips find hers wanting. They quiver just slightly, as I let my tongue slip between the folds of her lips and past her teeth. 

I hurry back towards the tree with her in my arms where I lean her up against the warm bark. Her arms are still entangled around my neck and shoulders, and her legs still cling to me as if she will never let go. I strip off my riding jacket and throw it onto the ground. My foot spreads it out—a bed for her to land on.

She falls fast to the ground, finally letting my kiss go. When she looks up at me, there’s something new in her eyes. It’s that same heat from when she was arguing me, but there’s something else…something darker and more mysterious. She leans forward on her elbows and reaches under the hem of my shirt till it’s off my body and back on the ground.

Sierra’s fingers trace the outlines of my tattoos and scars as if they were one. Her nails press into my flesh, and I feel the need to shiver at her touch. I lean down towards the curve of her neck and smell her body. It’s exotic and wild—still fresh and ripe from last night’s fucking.

I slowly begin to unbutton the black lace blouse, as she leans back. Her head curls into the ground and her hips rise as I make it down to her skirt. I pull the shirt off of her arms and move to her breasts. They are covered by two nude-colored cups that I can easily tear off and toss to the side. She gasps at the motion and lets herself go further.

My lips trail down the side of her neck towards her collarbone. I lick at the skin, tasting the small salty pools of sweat. Both of our bodies burn out here in the desert under the unrelenting sun, but hers seems to just melt away. I move myself lower towards the round curves of her tits. I follow the path that winds up her caramel-colored skin till I reach the peak.

Her nipples are already hard, brown tips, but I can’t resist running my rough fingers over the smooth nubs. They bounce in my hand, as I push gently down. Sierra sucks in deeply, her chest rising up, as my mouth surrounds her nipple, taking it in my warm mouth. I suck down. Hard. And she cries out, grabbing at my hair and shoulders. I use the hook of my arm to hold her down, as I continue to lap at her soft skin. It’s torturous, I know. But that’s how I like it. A little pain with a little pleasure goes a long, long way.

A sound breaks the excitement of the moment. In the distance, I hear the familiar sound of a car speeding down an empty highway. Happy dance music screams out the open windows. Sierra turns with a gasp before pushing me off and grabbing for her shirt to cover her chest.

We both watch from our perch behind the tree as it goes by without a second glance at our car on the side of the road, or the two nearly nude bodies somewhat concealed behind the tree. Sierra turns back to me, relief in her eyes as she begins to laugh. She steadies herself by placing her small, delicate hand on my shoulder. I feel it massage me slowly as she giggles uncontrollably.

Her laughs slow as she returns back to the moment. Her eyes glance down to my crotch, my raging erection giving me away. I’m not ashamed of it. I want
her
to want it…just as much as I want her. I watch as her bare chest caves in and out, as she takes one, long look at me before pouncing. She jumps on top of me, her legs back to straddling mine as she pushes me back down to the ground.

She’s quick. So quick that I don’t even notice her hands grabbing at my belt or pulling down her own panties as she kneels at my feet. Her mouth dives towards my pants, as her teeth grasp around the metal hook of my pants. I look down at her just in time to see a pair of brown eyes, her button-shaped nose, and a mouth containing the zipper lurch slowly down.

My cock practically releases itself from the slit in my boxers. She doesn’t even bother to take my pants down before getting her mouth around my shaft. I moan low and gruff, as my entire length gets covered by her sweet lips and tongue. She gives it several long licks, her head bobbing up and down in a fast, uncontrollable rhythm before she stops and looks at me with a mischievous glare.

She wants this. And she wants this now. She doesn’t need to tell me what to do. My hands are already pulling down my pants towards my ankles as I watch her hike up her tattered skirt towards her waist. I get a good glimpse at that velvety pussy of hers. I can tell from the dripping, hairless skin that this nasty girl is already wet for me.