Sarah held the door open and made way for Patrick, Billy Bones and a dozen of his guys, armed to the teeth with shotguns and pistols, to storm the mansion. When they were all inside Sarah lingered for a moment to scan the expansive yard to make sure they weren’t spotted.
The moon and diffused lights from the mansion caught her black shimmery dress. Her slim figure and silky brown hair looked incredible. I had to grab my cock to readjust for the sudden rush of blood at the sight of her. It’d been too long since I’d seen her now, and that made me want her more than ever.
It’d been eating at me for awhile now. All I wanted was to tear her away from that fucking laundromat and fuck her brains out. But how could I do that without jeopardizing everything the MC was trying to get accomplished, or Sarah’s safety?
So I bided my time and waited for the right moment to try again. It was agony. That girl was all I could think of. I was becoming obsessed.
“It’s go time, ladies. Nut up,” Dunk barked when the gunfire kicked off inside the mansion. Our pres’ special forces training made him bolt for a closer position before the rest of us could keep up. Dreamer brought up his flank with an assault rifle and the rest of us found cover and waited for the surprised party-goers to come stumbling out.
During most of the work we did for Patrick we were the point of the spear, always going in first and doing the most damage. This time was different. The coup was personal for Billy Bones who felt that he was overlooked by his father picking his brother to lead the mafia instead of him, so he wanted his crew to be on the front lines of the attack. Patrick went with him to ensure the events unfolded exactly the way he wanted them to. That was all fine with us. Aside from our payday when all this was over we didn’t have any real dog in the fight. They wanted us on support and clean up no problem.
I waved Sarah over to us to get her out of harm’s way, but she couldn’t see us. I then tried shouting her name but the gunfire coming from inside was too loud.
“On our six,” Mac shouted tapping Dreamer on the shoulder.
Dreamer whirled and in a few quick bursts dropped three armed men who’d probably got called in from valet to help defend the house. They weren’t alone either. More guys came up from the tree line for support, and drunk, angry Italians began staggering out of the house. Everyone was firing and bullets peppered statues, water fountains and stone walkways.
I glanced back at Sarah and saw her huddled on the ground. She was caught in the crossfire and had nowhere to go.
Shit. I had to get to her before she caught a stray bullet.
“Buck, cover me!” I shouted.
“Cover you? Why—” he asked incredulously, turning to stop me. “Get back here you dumb fuck!”
He was too late. I had bolted toward Sarah before he could grab me. He unleashed a string of curses at my stupidity for charging into a firefight, then brought up his rifle and did his best to clear a path for me.
Curled up in the fetal position on the lawn with no cover whatsoever Sarah’s mouth hung agape with screams that would never come. All I could think during my mad dash was what an idiot I was. Was I trying to get killed? How the hell would I be able to help my brothers if I was gunned down doing something so damn reckless? I didn’t know this girl, and she flat out told me to stay away from her. I didn’t owe her a goddamned thing.
What the fuck was I doing trying to save her life then?
A thousand more excuses as to why this was fucking insane came to mind, but none of those thoughts slowed me down for a second. Sarah needed my help, and the devil take me, I was going to help her.
“I got you!” There was no optimism in my tone as I bent down and scooped her up. Now we were a slower and larger target and I could practically feel the wind coming off the bullets that flew past us.
Sarah looked up at me with wet, scared, but grateful eyes. But who has you? Those pretty brown eyes seemed to ask.
I tried desperately to push that question out of my head as I ran. I was now cut off from the rest of my MC and had to make a tough decision as to where to head next. I decided on east, where the dead valets had come from. The hope was that I might be able to hotwire a car for her to drive to safety then head back and help my brothers.
When I got to the fence that separated the estate from one of the driveways I looked back and realized that going back wouldn’t be an option. The other girls had fled from the storage room that Sarah had opened for us originally. My MC surrounded the girls and led them in the opposite direction back towards where we parked our bikes. The fighting outside was dying down but all it took was one lucky shot and there was a lot of open ground between me and the rest of my MC. I knew it wasn’t going to be feasible to reach them before they left.
“Sorry guys,” I grumbled under my breath. It felt like I was doing this kind of shit a lot lately. The only thing that gave me any kind of solace was that they looked like they were doing just fine in their retreat. That was of course thanks to all of Dunkin’s military training.
My ass was going to get reamed out for this little stunt when I caught up with them later.
“Are you alright?” I asked Sarah after I helped her over the fence.
Sarah was visibly shaking but managed a small nod. That would have to be enough for now. My head was on a swivel scanning for possible dangers, and for a way to get the fuck out of here.
The parking lot was some sort of service vehicle staging area. It had only stretch limos and stretch hummers. Neither was anything I was familiar driving, but fuck it. It looked like I was going to get a crash course from Figure-It-The-Fuck-Out University.
I looked around for a valet box with keys but couldn’t find one. There was shouting and gunfire getting closer so decided the hell with subtlety and grabbed a rock to bash one of the windshields in.
That was when I saw it.
A new black Harley cruiser safely nestled away behind all the vehicles. Now that I knew how to drive!
I grabbed Sarah by the arm and we both dashed toward the bike as a new set of headlights made its way up the path towards us. Don Accardo’s reinforcements, no doubt. We dipped low behind one of the limos until the car passed us. The car’s headlights cast long shadows on the drive up, and for a brief instant one of those was ours. They must’ve missed us otherwise we’d have been dead to rights.
Fuck that was close!
I looked at Sarah with war drums pounding in my chest where my heart beat should’ve been. She’d managed to close her mouth, killing the screams that would never come, but the terror was plainly written across her face and the way she latched onto me like a set of whole body vice grips.
It didn’t take long for me to hotwire the bike. I helped Sarah onto the back and had her hold on like her life depended on it. That was because it did, especially if any mafia remnants decided to chase us. I wasn’t all too worried as we took off down the long driveway and out into the backroads. Any goombas that showed up wouldn’t be able to follow me even if they tried. As a driver I was alright in a car, but give me a bike and reason to get the fuck outta Dodge and there was no man alive that could catch my ass.
I knew I couldn’t take her back to Patrick’s laundromat, at least not tonight. So where then?
I was kidding myself by pretending not to know the answer. I knew exactly where I was going to take her.
10
Jezebel
My heart hadn’t stopped racing all evening. Between the shootout and the motorcycle ride I didn’t know how much more I could take. We flew down dark streets like a dream. I tried to relax into Wreck and let myself calm down. It worked a little. I’d never felt safer than I did with him, but that did little to slow my rapidly beating heart. Being this close to the man who probably just saved my life sent my pulse pitter-pattering in a different way.
The visceral memories of men being gunned down as we escaped came and went in waves. Fortunately for me it was too dark and my eyes were closed for a lot of it so I didn’t actually see muc
h of the carnage. After that was mostly just keeping my head down and running with Wreck.
I always thought of myself as tough in a lot of ways—I had to be to survive this long as Patrick’s hostage—but tonight… Tonight was something else entirely. I wasn’t strong enough to keep my wits about me and find cover. The shiver that tore through me then had nothing to do with the crisp spring air. If it wasn’t for Wreck I’d never have made it.
I would never end up saving my family from Patrick.
I had no idea where he was taking me but I owed Wreck a great debt.
Some time later we arrived at a late night motel that looked seedy but discreet. This was the type of place that probably took cash up front and didn’t bother with names.
When we came to a stop I got off and stretched my legs. All the stress had given my whole body knots. Pushing the soreness away, I tried to tell Wreck Pictionary-style that I needed to go back to the laundromat. It didn’t look like he knew which words I was trying to convey, but he at least got the gist.
“We can’t go back.” He dismounted and cracked his neck and generally limbered up. He probably didn’t expect to have to carry me when he showed up at the mansion tonight. “Being that Patrick himself was part of the mafia coup anybody that made it out of there alive would want to get revenge and the laundromat would be the first place they looked.”
He was right.
“Billy Bones’ clean up teams will be out looking to finish off any survivors, but just in case a few slip through…you’re stuck with me for the night.” He flashed me a hint of a smile, before he turned to walk to the entrance that led to the motel reception.
I gasped in air and swallowed the butterflies that skittered up my throat. I’d almost fell into his severe, dark eyes when he’d spoken to me. Alone with Wreck all night? Excitement and nervousness bubbled up inside me at what that might mean.
Wreck came out a few minutes later with a gaudy key chain and led me to our room for the evening. The room was modest. It had two beds, a TV unit, dresser, bathroom and all the other amenities you’d expect at a budget motel that had hourly rates. As modest as it was the room was probably three times as large as my room back at the laundromat, but was nowhere near as clean. One long look around and I decided I was going to sleep on top of the blankets that night.
“Hope pizza’s alright with you. I paid the sweaty guy up front to order one for us. For some reason whenever things go tits up that bad I always crave pizza. It’s a goddamn wonder I’m not five-hundred pounds rolling with this crew as long as I have.” Wreck snorted in self-disbelief, kicking off his boots. He peeled off his leather jacket next and tossed it onto the room’s only chair, then looked over at me apparently seeing something in my expression. “You can relax here. We’re safe.”
Was I really that tense?
I nodded, having no real way of knowing what was safe and what wasn’t these days, then quickly excused myself to use the bathroom. Between the terror of being shot at and the vibrations from the motorcycle escape it was a wonder I didn’t wet myself an hour ago. It was only after I washed my hands that I could force myself to really take in my disheveled reflection. It was much worse than I thought.
The wind from the ride utterly destroyed all the work I’d put into my hair turning my gentle waves into something more akin to a wasp’s nest. Between the sweat, tears and spilled champagne my makeup didn’t fare much better than my hair, and the many rips in my outfit made it unsalvageable. How I kept my scarf on I’ll never know.
I felt hideous.
At the very least the bathroom came with soap, shampoo, and conditioner. It was going to suck putting the mangled clothes back on afterwards but at least the shower would wash away the rest of the horror show I was walking around with.
Afterwards, stepping out of the tub and cleaning the steam off the mirror I realized I’d never spent the night with a man that wasn’t paying me. I think that was why I was a little more timid than I normally would have around Wreck. Physically I felt a little better because of the shower, but I was still anxious. With my gross clothes back on, my scarf securely fastened around my neck, and my hair wrapped in a towel I left the bathroom. Wreck looked me over for a moment then turned away and focused on his phone call. He was letting his club’s president know where he was and what his plans were.
I hovered idly not knowing what to do or how to act then sat on the room’s inner most bed and examined the TV remote like it was the most interesting thing in the world.
I groaned inwardly. This was going to be a long, agonizing night.
“My kingdom for a fucking beer right now,” Wreck said ending the call and dropping the phone on the nightstand. He was mercifully oblivious to how awkward I was being. Wreck sat down on the edge of the bed closest to the door, slumped forward and ran a hand over his face and hair. From the way he moved and favored certain positions it was easy to tell that he was sore. “Should’ve paid that clown to get some of those for us too.”
Falling into habit I climbed onto the bed and kneeled behind him. Forcing the tremors out of my hands, I squeezed his strong, hard shoulders and started working the many, many knots out of his muscles. A massage was the least I could do for saving my life.
An off-color stain on the wall kept drawing my attention. It wasn't blood or anything sinister, just distinctive. Had I been in this room before? It was always so hard to tell because Patrick typically moved me at night and whenever I arrived I had to perform for the client. Still something about the stain bothered me.
Something about the whole room bothered me if I was honest with myself.
“You’re not on the clock.” He turned his head to the side, but couldn’t actually see me. It was enough to bring me back from my apprehension.
Be in the moment with Wreck, I scolded myself. You might not ever get another chance like this!
“You don’t gotta do anything you don’t wanna,” he continued with a grunt of satisfaction lowering his head to one side which gave several audible cracks from his neck.
I knew that. I would’ve told him to shut up and let me do this if I could. Instead I just continued. My fingers flirting with the collar hem of his shirt.
“Well hell. If you’re going to do it…” Wreck tore off his shirt to give me easier access.
My gaze cascaded down his broad back muscles only pausing to admire his tattoos or gawk at his scars. In the reflection of the mirror on the opposite wall, he saw the lust in my eyes as they flicked down and relished in my excitement. He knew that I wanted him. There was no hiding it now.
He watched without moving, content to let my hands explore his rough skin. My heart thumped quicker, egging my fingers on as they crested his collarbone and worked their way down into the deep grooves of his chest.
It wasn’t ever supposed to be like this.
I’d done everything in my power to push this man away and yet here he was. How did this keep happening? How despite everything do we keep getting thrown together? If I was a religious girl I’d wonder if it was fate.
I was not religious. No all good, all knowing God would ever subject a person to be the prisoner of a man like Patrick. No. This was just coincidence, dumb luck or random chance.
But so what?
If the stars aligned and the clouds of the shitstorm that was my life parted – even for just one night – I would be an idiot not to try and enjoy it, right?
The touch of his hand rioted my skin into a million pinpricks as it trapped my own, stopping me in my tracks.
“My turn,” he decided. Wreck slid his hand up my arm and reached over, pulling me on to his lap so we both faced the same direction. He leaned in and smelled my neck. Knowing he felt my sharp inhale made me blush.
Something about Wreck terrified me. It wasn’t his size, or the way he looked. It wasn’t what organization he was involved with or the fact that he’d killed people before. It wasn’t even that he was a dangerous criminal in general that frightened me.
No. What scared the hell out of me was that he might actually be a good man.
I’d known so few of them in my life that I didn’t know how to process a man like Wreck.
He towered over me in the wall mirror across from us. I sat basically in his lap as he worked his magnificently large hands over my shoulders, always careful not to get too close to my scarf. He went down my arms and sides, then finally crested my lower back. The pressure was heavenly. When he saw my eyelids half close, and head loll back he knew I was putty in his hands.
Wreck’s big arms slid across my stomach and he swept me into him. Our bodies pressed together. My ass was tightly positioned between his legs, the heat of his growing cock threatened to set our clothes on fire. I could feel the electricity course through my thighs and deep into my pussy.
“I don’t know what it is about you, but you’re not like anyone I’ve ever met.” His lips brushed against my ears as he uttered the words. “I haven’t stopped thinking about you since the day we met.”
And when I touch myself I think of you. My response would’ve been breathy and sexy, but genuine in a way I hadn’t felt in a long time. God, I wanted this man.
Almost as if he could read my mind he kissed my cheek and a sharp thrill tore through me that stole my breath for a moment. I’d been kissed many times before, but never with this kind of honest yearning and tender care. Wreck was a man who could’ve been just like everyone else, but he wasn’t. That’s what made this so special, so unreal.
At least that was what I told myself.
A sudden knock at the door froze us both in place. With how quickly everything was happening we'd forgotten all about the pizza. That was now the last thing on our minds.
“If we ignore him, do you think he'll just go away?” Wreck grumbled distractedly into my neck. The scratching of his beard pricked my skin in a surprisingly sexy way.
Outlaw's Ride: An MC Romance Page 7