by K. L. Savage
It was his first, since he was the oldest.
It has ruby gems on it with two chains dangling from the handle to the sheath. It’s expensive, not something to ruin with blood. My fists do just as much damage anyway.
“Ye don’t believe me. That’s okay. What do I need to do to prove it to ye?”
“Where am I? How did it get here?”
“Ye don’t remember?” I ask her with concern. This will be the second time we have told her. “We found ye in the desert. I almost hit ye with my bike. We brought ye here instead of the hospital because we didn’t know yer situation.” I take a step closer, and she moves down the fence, so I pause. I lay my palm against my chest. “I’m Skirt. Yer at the Ruthless Kings MC clubhouse. Yer on our property. We aren’t going to hurt ye.”
“I don’t believe you,” she says. Her words are a powerful blow to my chest. She doesn’t trust easily, that much is apparent. “Stay away from me. Don’t come closer.” Her fingers wrap around the bars of the gate and squeeze tight. Her eyes betray the fear her body is putting off in waves. Those green orbs hold a monster, and they are daring me to take another step.
I’ve always liked a good dare.
“Trust is earned. I get that,” I say. My hands are still up, showing that I’m not reaching for my weapon and she’s safe, just like I promised. The rocks crunch under my foot as I move closer.
Her jaw squeezes tight and the muscle jumps, reminding me of when Sarah doesn’t get her way with Reaper.
“Open the gate and let me out. Let me get to my son.”
“I can’t let that happen.” I’m finally in front of her, and now that I see her out in the natural light, everything about her calls to me. She’s fucking gorgeous. She does have strawberry blonde hair and the eyes the color of that cactus that destroyed my ass.
Bright green but fucking deadly.
“Then you’re not who I need to be speaking with, are you?” she sneers just as she throws her fist in the air, punching my jaw with a mean right hook.
Hells fucking bells, the woman packs a damn punch.
“Oh, shit! Skirt is getting is ass kicked!”
“ Get ’em little lady!”
“Aw, hell. This is better than sharpening my knife any day,” Tongue says.
I wipe my lip off with my thumb and see a bead of blood on my fingertip. I haven’t had someone draw blood from me in a very long time, and the fighter in me pushes against my skin, begging to get free. I crack my neck and when I lay my eyes on her again, her chin is jutted out and her shoulders are thrust back. “That wasn’t necessary, Lips. I’m not here to hurt you.” I lick my lips, the taste of iron exploding as blood lingers in my mouth.
“It’s not necessary to keep me here, yet here we are. And my name is Dawn. Not Lips.”
“Oh, Lassie, yer name is Lips with that smart mouth ye got there.”
She clicks her tongue and sends the same right hook through the air, but this time I catch it, and spin her arm around, pinning it behind her back. She arches, and her arse presses against my pelvis, rubbing against my semi-hard cock. Christ, I’ve never had a woman fight me like this, and it’s turning me on.
“Calm down, Lips. I’m only here to help ye. I swear it,” I whisper against the side of her ear, inhaling the dried sweat against her skin. Fuck, her sweat smells sweet. If I really wanted to scare her, I’d flatten my tongue against her neck and taste her flesh, which I’m not going to do.
That’s weird.
Doesn’t mean I can’t think about it.
“I’ve heard that before.” Her foot smashes down on mine as hard as she can and then her elbow slams into my gut, then she bends her arm quick and her fist lands right above my cock, stealing the air out of my body.
“Fuck me,” I moan through a held, painful breath. My grip loosens on her wrist, and she yanks out of my hold to drive her knee straight into my balls. “Oh, shite.” My hands cup my bruised orbs, my pair of good fellas, and I fall to my knees. “Low blow.” I fall to my side, and the guys are hollering in laughter, stomping their feet against the porch.
The loud pound of their boots sound like the thunder in the sky, and my sack throbs in rhythm. I never lose a fight, but this woman brought me down in a matter of seconds. I think I’m in love. It’s the hottest thing I’ve ever experienced. I want her to take me down again, only in the bedroom, where she can really fuck me up.
The pain in my balls must be cutting off the oxygen to my brain because no man could want that.
A shadow falls over me, and I open one eye to see her dirty hair fall around her shoulders as she stares down at me. Her hands on her hips, her plump lips are pressed together, as if she’s annoyed by me.
Me!
It’s unheard of.
“Take me to your leader.”
A bubble of laughter escapes me. It’s loud and obnoxious and carries through the vast desert, but I can’t stop it. She sounds like an alien since she has no idea what title Reaper is known for. I flop to my back, holding one hand on my balls, and the other on my stomach as tears gather in my eyes from how hard I’m laughing.
My arse twinges with pain, but I don’t even care.
“Don’t laugh at me. I want to talk to him. Now! Or I’ll… I’ll…”
“Ye’ll what, Lips?” I flop to my side and lay one hand on the ground to push myself up onto my legs. “Kick me in the balls? Well, ye’ve done that. It hurt, by the way.” I dust off my kilt and sigh. Damn, that was a good laugh.
She narrows her eyes at me, the green-eyed monster coming to life, and she stomps toward the row of motorcycles, which are all parked in the same direction, leaning on their kickstands. It’s a beautiful picture. The symmetry doesn’t happen like that all the time.
“Woah, woah, woah!”
“Not the bikes!”
“I’ll give you a knife. Just don’t touch her. I just got her painted!”
The guys shout in protest, hoping to stop her, scared that she’ll kick the first bike and start a domino effect. Fuck. And of course, the one she’s standing at is Reaper’s. She lifts her leg and cocks her head at me, daring me not to take her to Reaper.
Fucking dares, always more trouble than what they are really worth.
“Take me to whoever is in charge!”
“Okay. I can do that. No need to go overboard with damaging the bikes. Those are expensive fixes. Person ye want to talk to is Reaper. He’s in his office. Where’d ye learn to fight like that?” I ask, rubbing my jaw as it throbs.
“None of your damn business.”
“Yer attitude won’t get ye far here, Lips. I’m nicer than a lot of the men here, and ye’ll do well to stay in line.”
She plants her foot and marches over to me, pointing a finger, then pushing it against my chest. “I don’t give a damn what you think about my attitude. I’ve had it listening to men telling me I need to stay in line. Fuck your line; you hear me? I’m never walking it again. So shove your warning up your Scottish ass and take me to the person I need to talk to.”
I’m glad I’m wearing a kilt because I’m so fucking hot I bet I could weld two pieces of metal together. “Not many people get the Scottish thing at first.” I lean in and glance to the porch where the guys are leaning their arms against the porch rail, watching me and Dawn as if they are a bunch of damn gossip girls. I lower my voice so they can’t hear me. “And ye must be thinking about my arse for ye to bring it up like that. Ye tell me when and where, Lips, and when that happens, feel free to kiss it.”
That has her throwing that rogue fist through the air, and I catch it, then reach down and grab her other hand. I bring both of her wrists between us and pin them against her chest. “That’s becoming a habit, Lips.”
“Looks like you bring out the worst in me,” she sneers, her eyes locking to my lips.
My eyes dart all over her face, impressed by this woman in front of me. She’s strong, fierce, but I know she’s scared. It’s why she feels like she has to fight for hers
elf. Throwing punches can be exhausting, but there has to be a better reason than snap judgment, or any energy for a real fight will be drained.
“That’s too bad because I think ye bring out the best in me,” I say. I’ve never felt more alive than I do right now. My skin is buzzing, my lips are trembling to kiss hers, and my heart is racing faster than a thoroughbred. “Come on, follow me. I’ll take ye to our leader.” I snicker. She’s so naïve about this sort of life, and I find it refreshing. I stretch out my arm. “Ladies first.”
“I don’t know where I’m going,” she says, swallowing nervously as she looks up to the men on the porch. I can imagine it is intimidating for her to see all these bikers, but they won’t ever hurt a woman. They will give their life to make sure a woman lives. It’s the Ruthless way of life. It’s law.
“I’ll make sure to tell ye,” I say.
The torn pieces of her shirt blow in the breeze, and I see bits of her smooth white flesh along her hipbone. Strands of her matted hair flicker over her shoulder, reminding me of a flame dancing along the wick of a candle. Sure, the strawberry blonde locks are covered in filth, but shucks, she looks good fucking filthy.
“Okay.” Her hand holds her side as she takes the first step, and her knee buckles from beneath her. Her arm catches along the rail, but I can see the pain along the lines in her face.
I lunge forward and swing her into a tight hold. She’s staring up at me with her bright eyes; the whites of her right eye is tinged red from the black eye, and her lashes curl up to touch her brows. Fucking beautiful. “Look at that.” My boots slam against the steps, and my MC brothers part to give us space to enter the front door. “I’ve done swept ye off yer feet. Before ye know it, yer going to love me.”
Dawn’s arms wrap around my neck, and she rolls her eyes at my statement. “Love? Love doesn’t exist, Scottish.”
“I can’t wait to prove ye wrong, Lips.” I bring my foot up and kick the door open since it isn’t shut all the way.
“You’re a pain.” Dawn stares ahead, not meeting my eyes, but instead, she sees a few cut-sluts hanging around, one draped all over Pirate’s drunk ass, kissing on his neck. “No standards, huh? This is how it is here?” she asks, and Candy breaks her lips from Pirate’s neck, and flicks Dawn off. “No thanks, sweetheart. I don’t want whatever you got.”
I rub my lips together to keep from laughing, and Candy lunges for Dawn, but not before Dawn chops her in the throat. Candy stumbles back and wraps her hands around her neck, gasping for air.
Hell yeah, this woman is a badass, and her fearless personality is turning me on more and more with every second that ticks by.
Even Pirate looks like that sobered him up a bit. He stares at Dawn like a dog eyeing a piece of beef. I give Pirate a sneer and hold Dawn closer to my chest, tighter, like I’m afraid some other man is going to come and take her away from me, from my arms. I’ll fight to prove I’m worthy.
I might not have the experience a lot of guys have here in the club, but I can be what she needs. Shucks, thinking about us having sex makes me nervous. Maybe I should fuck a cut-slut or two to make sure I know what I’m doing. The thought of getting with Candy doesn’t sit right with me, though.
I’m not waiting for marriage or anything. I’m not religious. It’s nothing like that. I’ve had the opportunity to fuck plenty of times, but something told me to wait for someone better. Well, I see why it’s so important to listen to your gut now.
I found the someone better.
Now, I just got to make her see I’m better than what she’s used to, what’s she settled for, because I know the love I can give isn’t a settlement.
It’s an aspiration.
She wants castles in Spain?
I’ll build her towers until they reach the goddamn sky. The heaven she will come to love will be the one I create.
“That’s what you get for thinking you can come at me without consequence,” Dawn says to Candy. The fake blonde with big tits is still choking, eyes watering, but she still allows Pirate to feel her up, so she is obviously fine.
“Bitch,” Candy gasps.
Shucks, the heaven I want to create for her she has already created for me. I’ve never really seen any of the women here put the cut-sluts in place. I’m not sure if Dawn is feeling defensive because she doesn’t know anyone here or she frowns upon the club whores; I don’t really know. Her hackles are high being in a strange place. She’s worried about her son and whoever did this to her.
And all I want to do is take her to our heaven, the place I’ve created and imagined in my mind since the moment I laid eyes on her.
Fuck, I’m such a damn sap.
Whatever. I don’t give a fuck. Tool and Reaper are pussy whipped too. I dare them to give me shit.
“Nice kitchen,” she says, looking around the industrial-size room. “And basement. If you’re a serial killer,” she mumbles.
“Don’t say serial killer too loud.” I glance over my shoulder to make sure Poodle isn’t around. “We have one in SKA.”
“SKA?”
“Serial Killer Anonymous. He’s in rehab with our leader.” I can’t hold back the snicker again. Leader. I snort.
“To stop killing!” she squeaks and tries to roll out of my hold, but I grip her tight. “What the hell kind of place is this?” She kicks and wiggles, doing her best to get away from me, but it’s just turning me on.
“He killed really bad people if that makes any difference.”
She purses her lips and stops wiggling as she thinks about if what I said is right or wrong. I want to steal those lips in a fiery kiss to see if her passion runs as hot as her anger.
“How bad?”
“The worst of the worst. The world won’t miss them.”
“Why is he in … SKA?” Her voice gets higher with every letter from the uncertainty of if she said the acronym right.
“To stop killing.” My shoulder hits the wall as I take another left down the hall, and I grunt from the damn thing being in the way. Stupid wall.
“But if he is killing really bad people, why stop?”
The question has my steps faltering, and I nearly drop her on the ground, but I lean right to catch myself along the line of pictures hanging there. My shoulder hits the glass and one breaks, and a web of cracks show along the surface.
“Ye don’t care?”
“Horrible people should have a horrible death. That’s my opinion,” she says in a cold, distant voice as she stares at the stained glass in the middle of the door at the end of the hall. It’s storming outside now, and the rain gathers along the skull on the different colored glass and drips down the eye sockets, giving the mirage of tears.
Everyone knows skulls don’t fucking cry.
I get moving again, staring at the side of her face with so many questions that I know she won’t answer right now. What the hell has this woman seen and been through to believe such a thing? It isn’t easy to numb a heart, but once it is, hell, it’s nearly impossible to thaw. Dawn’s is frozen solid.
If there is hope for me to be with her, I either have to become numb too or melt the ice she’s encased herself in.
Time for me to get a fucking blow torch because this arse doesn’t do well in the cold.
“Prez!” I shout through his closed door and knock.
“Fuck, that’s it, doll. Just like that. You suck my cock so fucking good. Jesus Christ.”
I take a step back when I realize what’s going on in his office. I blush, my hot blood pooling in my cheeks. “He’s a … he’s busy. It will just be a second—minute. Probably a minute or two, considering how long it’s … a … been going on.” I clear my throat and stare at a picture on the wall I’ve seen a hundred fucking times. And then I start walking.
Her hand grips my arm. “No, stay.”
“But … he’s. I mean … he’s—” I set her on the floor and reach up to scratch the back of my head. I hate feeling awkward about shit like this. I shouldn’t. I’v
e gotten my dick sucked before.
“I know,” she says. “It’s hot, right? Just listen,” she whispers, placing her index finger against her lips, telling me to be quiet.
“I can’t listen to my Prez getting a damn blow job.”
“You’re still standing here, so it looks like you are to me.”
Those lips! I just want to silence them with mine so she stops revving up my fucking lust with her hot mouth.
“I’m going to come, doll. Take every drop like I know you can.”
Dawn turns her eyes on me, and her pupils are dilated. Does she like hearing people fuck? No, no way. She’s too … angry for that. She has to be screwing with me.
“That’s hot. How he talks to her. I’ve never had a man talk to me like that before.”
Mental note. Check.
“Ye haven’t been with the right men,” I say with wee bit more confidence than I have a right to.
“Apparently,” she says as the door opens, and Sarah stands there in a mess of blonde hair and swollen lips.
Reaper is going to punish me for listening. I know he is. My life as I know it is over. Women always get a man in trouble. I’m so fucked. This is what I get for listening to Dawn.
“How long have you been standing there?” Reaper zips his pants, and Sarah rights her red summer dress.
“Not long. Just now,” I lie. I fucking lie to my Prez. If he finds out, I’m a dead Scotsman.
“Why are you blushing?” Sarah asks, a knowing mischievous twinkle in her eye.
“I told him he was handsome,” Dawn says from beside me, and I wonder if she means it or if she is saving face.
Shucks.
Saving face, probably. Who would want a pale ginger who wears a kilt that people think is a skirt half the time.
“You’re the woman Skirt found on the side of the road. I’m assuming you have business to discuss.”
“I do. I want to leave. I need to get to my son. He isn’t safe.”