Bleed Me (Haunted Roads Book 3)

by India R. Adams

  Her middle finger slid inside her core, that I was already missing, even though it hadn’t been mine for only two-point-three seconds. “Justice!”

  She laughed, acting like a recorded message. “Justice is busy getting herself off. Please call back.” She moaned. “Later.”

  I dropped to my knees, not caring about the pain against the tub because it didn’t compare to not tasting her. “Let me have one lick. I can already smell your arousal.”

  Blocking me with her free hand, she pulled wet fingers from her channel and sucked on them. “You’re right. Damn. I am so hot and ready for sex.”

  My eyes were locked on the luckiest fingers in the world. Her pussy and her mouth? Ah, Shit. “Mercy, babe. Mercy.”

  Those wet fingers twirled in the air. “Let me see your back.” She stepped over my calves as I did what was told. My dick screamed I was to obey. “Giver, what is the big deal? It’s your Stallion—”

  Even though she couldn’t see it, I smiled. I couldn’t help it. Her silence told me I had done good. “You were sayin’?”

  She dropped to her knees between my calves and feet. “You didn’t do this.”

  Smartass comments, commence! “Nope. I don’t think that’s what you were sayin’. I think it was more like you were trying to deny me what’s mine.”

  Ignoring me, the tips of her fingers traced what I had added to my Stallion tat. “Giver.”

  “You like it?” Her forehead fell to between my shoulder blades, nodding, but she said nothing. That had me doubting myself. “I mean, if you prefer a ring—”

  “Palms to the wall.”

  Wait. “What?”

  Reaching around me, she grabbed my left hand and slapped my palm to the light tile in front of me. “Palms to the wall.” She reached around my right side, doing the same.

  I chuckled, loving her breasts touching my back until her right hand grabbed my Johnson with vigor. “Ah, shit.”

  Justice started sucking on my back as her hand began to stroke me. “If you buy me a ring, thinkin’ it could ever be better than this ultimate wedding gift, I will shoot you.”

  All blood pooling in my dick, yet again, I nodded, struggling for air. “No ring.”

  “No ring.” Her teeth grazed my skin. “Now, as you come, I want you to speak these words I am crying over.”

  Crying? “Babe—”

  I inhaled sharply as her left hand suddenly pinched my nipple. It was painful, yet so erotic, because her right hand picked up speed, sailing me toward an orgasm.

  Her tongue swiped my back. “You ready to start talkin’?” My head fell forward, my hands supported me, my stomach coiled, my balls getting ready to blow. Her hand tightened. “Tell me, James, what your back reads.”

  It was so hard to talk, so I somewhat groaned, “Justice and Giver,” I fought for air as I came against the tub, “withstand,” groan… “any storm.”

  Those words, in script, were within the wild main of the stallion on my back.

  I think my woman liked it.

  With so many bikers arriving for the event, the Barn was a constant party, and the backyard—the Pasture—looked like a camping ground. Tents were everywhere. Kids were everywhere. It ended up being quite the family event. There was even a massive hog in the ground, being cooked luau style. Coolers were repeatedly being refilled, and bunnies were walking the crowds offering shots.

  Gracie was on a seesaw with another kid, while I swung Rhett on a baby swing. He was already almost a year old. Where the four years had gone in such a blur was astounding, but I was now legally allowed to drink, even though my fake ID said I was almost thirty. I felt older than thirty. I had two kids. A baby mama. An Old Lady. Within hours was about to have a wife. And I was a respected member of an illegal motorcycle club.

  As another bike pulled into the yard, male whistles sang approval into the air. I smiled and asked my son, “Are you ready to meet Uncle Diesel?”

  Rhett lifted his arms, ready, just like a true Stallion.

  With my son in my arms, I called out, “Gracie, come on, baby.”

  With effort, due to having such petite legs, she got off her seesaw and tittered-tottered, catching her balance, then ran up to me. I reached down and held her hand and walked us toward the commotion.

  As soon as Diesel got off his bike, he was bombarded with hugs. But when he saw Gracie, bikers parted so she would have a runway. Seeing that old coot, she squealed and took off running, leaving me and her brother behind.

  His tough and rough, tattooed and ringed hands opened for my baby, and she was scooped up for much Uncle Diesel love. He yelled, “The fuck? You’re gettin’ so big!” He held her so tight, staring at me from over her shoulder. “I was afraid she wouldn’t remember me. Oh my God. Is that Rhett?”

  “It is. Meet our little man, Ice.”

  Ice, ice, baby… was sung by surrounding bikers.

  It was like, because of who Justice and Lynx were, my kids were biker royalty.

  Gracie saw Art and opened her arms. His jaw fell. “She wants me to hold her?”

  I answered, “Sure does, brother. Better not keep her waiting.”

  Vice rolled his eyes. “She has a set of pipes that will make your ears bleed. Trust me.”

  Almost unsure what to do with her, Art tried to hold her. It was awkward looking until she pursed her lips, ready and waiting.

  Art blinked… “Is she… I mean…”

  “Pucker up, fucker.”

  Another heart was lost as Art received a Gracie kiss.

  Diesel held Rhett in amazement. “He’s not even scared of me.”

  I gestured about. “You are what he knows.”

  Diesel smiled at me and nodded approvingly. “This life suits you, kid.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  This life did suit me. Without it, I would’ve been dead. No doubt at all.

  And, I definitely wouldn’t have been standing at the end of an aisle made up of chains instead of flowers as the sun began to set. I wouldn’t have been surrounded by the most loyal people in the world, including Diesel, Dagger, and Lynx. With Saint by my side, also waiting for the bride, were Elle, Sapphire, and Jamie.

  Without this life, I wouldn’t have been watching a remarkable woman, with a simple ivory silk gown and a bouquet of black roses, walking toward me. Her long hair was pulled back to show me her shaved sides, which always gave me a chubby. All of her earrings shone in the setting sun, while her crystal necklace sparkled. Black boots gave a perfect balance to the only girly dress I would ever see her in. Ivory silk draped over her flawless tattooed skin. Red luscious lips smiled, while grey eyes stared at me as if this woman loved me like the moon loves the night.

  The music was, of course, a song the boys heard on an SOA episode; “Forever Young” by Audra Mae. It was a simple folk song that fit perfectly with our beautiful Justice.

  Halfway down the aisle, she stopped and winked at me. Then she seductively turned away. I grabbed my chest at her low dipping dress, perfectly exposing her back. In the mane of her horse tattoo, my name, Giver Gunn Dalton, was above Steel Stallions. Ah, shit. And that wasn’t all. Down the back of her right arm, in script writing, was Together we can withstand any storm.

  “Babe.”

  She turned back to face me, so proud of herself. “Yes, Giver?”

  “Come ‘ere so I can marry you.”

  Howls of approval erupted. Even little Gracie, in Vice’s arms, put her lips to the sky to join in. I fucking lost it. Laughing in embarrassment, I wiped the couple of tears I couldn’t hold back.

  Vows…

  Promises…

  I felt like I was part of the greatest love story never told.

  At least, I didn’t think we would have a chance. After all the kids had been put to bed and some folks had retired for the night, the rest of us rejoiced and drank. We celebrated an unlikely union that ended up making the stars in the night shine brighter.

  Due to the loud music, I barely heard the first
bullet ring out, but I saw its landing. Justice was bringing me a beer as her shoulder took the hit. Blood sprayed as her body jerked, her eyes wide with surprise. In slow motion, the beers fell and crashed to the ground. Glass was still finding its resting place when the next bullet soared through her flesh on the right side of her waist. As I ran to her, blood soaked her wedding gown.

  Her ivory wedding gown, now red…

  Not missing a step, I ran into the line of fire for the woman I love, so willing to take any and all the bullets for her. My hand was already pulling my own gun from the back of my jeans as my eye began to twitch.

  Hello, my friend.

  For the first time in my whole existence, I said, “Dick… kill them all.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Church Eyes

  There are complicated men… Then there is Giver, a man in a whole different category—one only he has the right to stand in. He is beautiful, he is courageous, he is faithful… He is torture, he is terror, he is a nightmare… And, he is all mine.

  Watching him run toward me was like witnessing two souls masterfully blend and blur into the storm I craved and desired; Giver and Dick—my true drug of choice. His long dark blond hair blew in the wind he created like the bone-deep wild stallion he was. Those deep-set green eyes were like the laser triggers of the devil deciding where to land his madness.

  Even with blood seeping from my body, I smiled.

  I knew every enemy present… was fucked.

  Chaos exploded all around me as pain seared my flesh, but I wasn’t scared. He was almost to me. I’ll stay standing until you touch me.

  Lynx roared orders, “Women and children! Lockdown now!” while bikers, brothers, Stallions, Ryders, and men ran, ducked, and protected.

  As my legs threatened to give, I repeated the silent promise my eyes were telling my husband: I’ll stay standing until you touch me.

  Giver’s eyes locked onto something or someone behind me. Either way, I knew it was a threat by the instant hatred in the magnificent green abyss he effortlessly captured me in daily.

  His hand lifted his weapon of choice into the air and pointed to his target. I didn’t move in the slightest. I had endless trust in this man and all he was. His love and aim were like no other. I’d witnessed much with my club, but nothing compared to the uncanny caged creature that lurked inside Giver’s spirit.

  The bullet shot past my face with perfected precision.

  The beautiful smell of a discharged weapon hadn’t even reached me before his body slammed into mine, his powerful arm racing around my waist. My knees gave as he tightened his one-arm embrace and lifted my boots from the ground. Cutting through all the noise of firing guns, his deep voice was like an angel of death singing in my ear. “Hey, darlin’.”

  My body, surrendering to his control, knowing it was now safe, went limp. “Hey, Dick.”

  He spun us around so I was out of the line of raining bullets. “You miss me?”

  The double-edged question he always asked me.

  Due to the pain his flash movement inflicted, I rested my weakening arms around his neck. “Yeah. I missed ya.”

  He grunted as a bullet hit his right shoulder. “That’s my girl.”

  “I’m not your girl, Dick.”

  He huddled over me and waited. “So you keep saying, but we both know the truth. Ain’t that right, darlin’?” He didn’t give me a chance to answer. Or maybe we simply didn’t have time to spare. “What fucking mess has he got you in now?”

  I heard Lynx yell, “Go!”

  My head fell to Dick’s uninjured shoulder as he started to run. Facing into his strong neck, I smiled faintly. “Oh, you know that romantic bastard. He was giving me a sunset wedding.”

  “What a pussy.” He put his back to a pillar by the house, then studied bikers limping and running for cover. “At least he redeemed himself by making it a Blood Wedding.” As Giver would, Dick leaned his head to mine. “How many did you take?”

  Giver saw me get shot. Not Dick. “Two. Shoulder and waist.”

  “The waist I’m squeezing?” he teased, not willing to let me go because we were in deep shit.

  “That’s the one, babe.”

  “Sorry, darlin’—” His body seized. “Where are my kids?”

  Giver had helped tuck them in their cribs in our room and even told Saph to sleep in our bed, claiming we’d crawl in with her later, yet here I was answering, “In our room—”

  Torque came running out the back door, his arms full of ammo. “Lockdown done! On our own!”

  What he meant was the bunker wouldn’t be opening back up until certain words were called below by a Stallion Officer. Not even a full out fire above the basement would put them in danger. All scenarios had been considered and prepared for.

  Peering over his shoulder and around the pole, Dick sneered, “At least he did one thing right.”

  Giver was my man, so I said, “Don’t be a dick, Dick.”

  Not lifting my head, I could see Torque tossing clips and ammo to surrounding bikers, including who he thought was holding me. “Giver!”

  Even though he had a gun in his grasp, Dick caught it and tucked the weapon in his front jean pocket. “Another one.”

  Torque’s eyes snapped to his, then he grunted, “Hey, Dick,” tossing him another.

  Dick’s mannerisms and voice were harsher than Giver’s. For those who knew both, it wasn’t always difficult to determine the difference.

  Dick lifted a chin to Torque. “Need a cage. She’s hospital-bound.”

  With a curt nod, Torque said, “Vice helped initiate lockdown and is now with Meatball, bringing a car around, but she’ll need cover to drive out. The enemy won’t fall for the same trick twice.”

  Dick growled, “Get me another gun and you won’t have to worry about that.”

  Diesel came sliding in on his ass to avoid flying bullets. “Now this is a motherfucking party.”

  Lynx came in right behind him. “Where’s her cage?”

  On foot, Vice suddenly came running around a corner of the house. “Heads up!” Behind him, Meatball was bouncing in the driver’s seat of a sedan as he drove through the grass. “He’s comin’ in hot!” Stranded bikers took advantage of the cover and dashed behind my ride, following it to us.

  “Cover me!” demanded Dick as he rushed me to the back seat. Vice was already there with the door open. Dick laid me down, his bloody hand cupping my face. “Kiss me.”

  “No.”

  “What if I get him killed?”

  “You fucking asshole!” I smashed my mouth to his, not brave enough to not touch those lips for the last time if he were to perish trying to save me.

  For the two seconds we had, Dick devoured my mouth like a savage finally winning his prized victim. “That’s my girl.”

  My dizzy head fell back to the seat. “I’m not your girl.”

  “So you keep saying.” Backing out of the car, he smacked my ass. “Be safe, darlin’.”

  Emotions finally catching up to me, I whispered, “I love you, Giver.”

  At that very moment, Dick spoke the kindest words I would ever hear him speak. “He knows. I swear it.”

  Then the brief kindness was gone…

  Dick slammed the car door and banged on the roof. “Let me clear the way, you ignorant minions! Get her killed and I’ll murder you all!”

  From the driver’s seat, Meatball grumbled in Meat-chill fashion, “Jesus H. Christ. That fucker is crazy. Who talks to a bunch of pissed off, gun in hands bikers like that?”

  Wincing, I held my side. “If you see him go down, don’t tell me. I have to fight to live for my babies. But, without their daddy—” Oh, God, see us through. “Meat, promise me!”

  “Captain, that bastard is too stubborn to leave you.” The car jerked forward. “Hold on!”

  Lying in the back seat, I could see the upper part of my home out the passenger window. Sliding across the seat and into the door behind my head, I knew we wer
e flying around the side of the house.

  “Holy. Shit,” uttered Meat.

  I had told him not to tell me if he saw anything, but I couldn’t go to the hospital knowing any of my brothers or Giver needed Doc’s care more than me, so I demanded my injured body sit up slightly so I could see.

  “Oh. My. God.”

  Out the front windshield, I saw Dick, arms out wide, two guns firing, taking down one biker after another. He had no cover, only his egotistical, apparently bulletproof self-esteem.

  There were others of mine firing their guns, but they were using their training, taking cover and fighting when they had clear shots.

  The opposite was Dick.

  Blood dripped from the wound on his shoulder, though it didn’t even seem to register. He roared madly as he mowed down our enemy, who seemed too shocked to properly react. Bullets fired past him, all missing. I knew I was witnessing a messiah, wielding his unnatural, unkind wrath, but what I was truly seeing was a miracle.

  Tears fell from my eyes… “Thank you, Jenny.”

  She had warned us of what was to come. Now she was protecting her brother, who had valiantly attempted to protect her. That guardian angel clearly held no grudge for his failures.

  Dick was the only one punishing himself now.

  Unfamiliar bikes started racing away, possibly realizing they had been grossly outmatched by the insane motherfucker in front of them.

  Spotting the bikes that still stood, Dick bellowed to Meatball, “Drive through them, fatfuck!”

  Swerving around bodies, Meatball bitched, “Really? We had to drag my waistline into this?” Meatball was not groomed to take orders from a member underneath his station, but Dick wasn’t truly a Stallion. So, the sedan crashed into bikes that we were not affiliated with and bounced over remains that weren’t our own.

  My Blood Wedding was gruesome. Many were injured. But we were the ones who showed those fuckers a thing or two.

  Now we just needed to know who attacked us, and why.

  Deep down. I knew that answer, too. His tracks to Hell…

  6 months later

  There would be no easy way to learn of our attackers. None of the dead bodies were wearing cuts nor had tattoos that would identify them. None of the motorcycles had license plates. Even when we ran VIN numbers, we reached dead ends. Every bike had been reported stolen from different states all over the US. There was no rhyme or reason with the attack, other than me dying being the main goal.