by Deja Voss
“Oh shit,” Esther mutters. “Is it seven already? Come on, girls, put away the phones and make sure your stations are set up. Tammy, what in the world are you wearing?”
The petite blonde giggles and throws off her trench coat, exposing a black mesh dress that leaves nothing to the imagination.
“It was chilly out!”
“That’ll work,” Esther sighs. “Alright, ladies. Should be pretty dark soon. I’d expect this place to fill up any minute now.”
I admit, I’m starting to get nervous for what’s to come. From Esther’s warning, it sounds like I might be subjecting myself to something terrible. I don’t know how I’m going to feel about these girls she told me about. Even worse, the thought that they probably slept with Gavin makes my stomach kind of turn. I realize what’s in the past is in the past, but seeing it with my own two eyes, up close and personal, is going to take some getting used to.
“Why don’t you come help me for a minute,” Trixie suggests. “We gotta get this food put out before the men get back. I’m sure they’re going to be starving after a day of hunting.”
I follow her to the kitchen, and Tootsie chases at our heels. It’s probably better I keep myself busy helping her than busy pouring beer down my throat.
We carry out big trays of pulled pork, nachos, cupcakes, and soft pretzels.
“Are you a chef?” I ask her.
“Not by trade,” she says. “But it’s my way of helping the club. I keep everyone fed. These guys took me in when I was just a little one. I had nothing and nobody. My mom dumped me here and took off with a rival gang. Best thing that ever happened to me. And that was forty years ago.”
I can’t imagine the life she’s had. I want to hug her, but she’s busy getting everything organized on the table. The barroom is definitely starting to fill up, mostly with girls dressed in less than I would wear to the swimming pool and a few older men caped in the leather Mountain Misfits cut.
“Do you care if I just hang out with you tonight?” I ask her, nervously eyeing the crowd of strangers.
“Not at all. Let’s get some beers and take a load off.”
As I make my way to the bar, I spot a familiar girl out of the corner of my eye. Her bleached blonde mane is shiny and straight, hanging longer than her midriff leather halter top, and I’m thinking if I had abs like hers, I’d probably never wear clothes at all.
“Oh look, it’s doctor bitchy!” Morgan croons. “Just kidding, love.”
I’m sure she is.
“What are you doing up here? The hospital send you to spy on us? You trying to get Hank in trouble?”
“Honey, I perform surgery and help patients recover from it. That’s it. Hank’s not my patient anymore, so what the fuck do I care?”
“You better not be lying. We’re watching you. Moses told us you’re trouble.”
“Hey!” Trixie bellows. “What kind of surgery do you do to fix a badly botched Mexican boob job?”
Morgan’s face twists up into a sour pout.
“I don’t know, Trix. Not my area of expertise. I’m a trauma surgeon.”
“Well I’ve seen ’em, and I’m traumatized,” she cackles.
Morgan begins prancing away, her knee-high boots clicking on the hardwood.
“You’re ugly, both of you,” she calls out, pouting, “and you’re like literally dirty.”
I shake my head and laugh.
“At least she knows how to use the word literally correctly,” I say, pointing at my shirt caked in dirt and mud.
“Oh honey, you’re fine. Nobody here cares about what anyone looks like, except the girls. It’s not what you’re wearing. It’s what’s between your legs that matters,” she chuckles.
“I’ll toast to that.” We snag the two barstools in front of us. Trixie and I, two Mountain Misfits in our own right. I watch in wonder as the biker bar scene comes to life in front of me.
I wonder what Morgan meant when she said Gavin’s father told them I was trouble.
Does he know something about me or is he just mad about our meeting at the hospital? Do I need to be worried? He’s probably just not used to women standing up to him. I take a long swig off the cold bottle and Trixie taps my shoulder and points.
“Would ya look at that? Not something you see every day.”
There’s what looks like a heated game of strip pool going on in the corner and I’m fairly certain some miseducated young girl is confused with what body part you’re supposed to use to hold your cue stick, although she looks like she’s really enjoying herself.
I can’t help but stare in shocked amazement.
“You’re way out of your element aren’t ya, doctor bitchy?” she teases.
“Way.”
Chapter 16
Gavin:
Living up on this mountain provides us with a wealth of resources. Clean spring water, fresh air, plenty of cherry and maple for building things, lots of great hiding spots for moonshine stills, and the fishing and hunting are some of the best in the state.
Most importantly, though, out in this forest, these fields, these hills, nobody can hear you scream. And even if they do, they’ll likely just look the other way, or jump in and lend a brother a hand.
Revenge is a pillar of the Mountain Misfits MC way. Not only does it help keep other clubs in check and assert our position as those crazy fuckers up on the hill, but it satisfies one of the most basic urges of my brothers and I. Fucking and fighting will only get you so far. Every once in a while, a good old-fashioned killing spree is somewhat of a necessary evil. Keeps us from killing each other at the very least.
The five surviving Sabers are lined up before us, backs up against the side of the delivery truck, hands and feet bound, duct tape on their mouths, sheer terror in their eyes.
“What’s wrong, guys?” my father taunts. “Bumpy ride?”
Brooks begins pulling the duct tape from their mouths as they gasp for lungfuls of air.
“Which one of you fucks shot up my bar?” I ask. “And don’t say Jimmy.” I nudge the dead body on the ground with my boot. “Jimmy can’t speak for himself right now.”
My gang closes in around them, a tight circle, clenching their weapons of choice, staring them down as the Sabers plead for their lives.
“You’re a bunch of sickos,” one cries out. “Sick fucking weirdos.”
“And?” my father laughs. He pulls out his cellphone and snaps a picture of them. “I want to make sure your president sees how much fun you’re having on your hunting trip!”
“It was me,” the youngest of the lot pleads. “I did it. Jaso told me to. Please, just let these guys go and I’ll take you right to him. We’ll get it straightened out.”
“Well, he made a huge mistake, because you can’t shoot for shit,” Austin says. “Neither can I though; that’s why I don’t use a gun.” He’s holding a lead pipe in his hand and he cracks it off the guy’s knee. He screams in agony.
“Take it easy,” I say to Austin. “I’m in the mood for a challenge today. It’s not as much fun when they’re already injured.”
“You’re right, boss.”
“He’s just getting him warmed up for me,” Heat laughs, flicking his switchblade in the kid’s face. “My old body can’t run like it used to, but damn, my knife skills get better and better every year.”
“I’m sure you’ve heard the rumors about how this works, men,” my father addresses them. “The rules are actually very fair and clear, no surprises like your little stunt earlier today. Once we cut you loose, you’re free to go. You get a fifteen-minute head start, and after that, we will track you down and find you, even if it takes all night. Good luck to you, boys. Make that president of yours proud.”
We grew up in these woods. We know these trails up and down and in and out. We definitely have a clear advantage. Still, it’s fun to watch ’em run like they have any fucking chance.
I cut their arm bindings and Brooks follows behind, cutting the bindings on th
eir feet.
“If you see the two of us coming at you, you’re in a for a real bad day, guys,” he laughs.
As they take off into the woods, Brooks just shakes his head.
“Why do they always run up?” he laughs. “Dumbasses.”
A gunshot rings through the air, my father clutching his smoking revolver with that evil grin on his face. The young man with the broken knee hits the ground, blood leaking from the back of his head.
“Mercy killing.” My father shrugs. “Look how fast the rest of ’em are running now, though.”
It’s true, sheer terror drives these bikers through the woods, and the cracking of branches and crunching of leaves on the ground begins to fade out.
“Want me to drag him to the shed?” Red asks.
My dad shoots him a thumbs-up. Red grabs the lifeless body and throws it over his shoulder, while Tank grabs the other one by the ankle, pulling him across the lawn and to the shack.
“You and me?” Brooks asks. “Like the good old days?” He wraps his bandana around his head.
My heart is pounding through my chest. There’s not much more thrilling than an afternoon of hunting. Except maybe the lady I hope to find waiting for me when I get back. Maybe. That’ll be determined later.
Right now, I only have one thing on my mind.
“You and me,” I say to Brooks. And a group of bloodthirsty Misfits gathered in row, like it’s the starting line of a marathon or something. We’re waiting for the gun to go off.
“Has it been fifteen minutes yet?” Austin whines.
We could give them the rest of the day and it wouldn’t matter. We definitely have the upper hand here.
“Sure,” my dad says, shrugging. He fires a shot into the air and we all take off into the woods, ready to track down our prey and give them exactly what they have coming.
One thing is for certain—the coyotes and bears are going to eat good tonight.
Chapter 17
Sloan:
I don’t even need to look up to know he’s back. I can feel his presence fill the room. It’s sexy, it’s musky, and it’s wild. His hands and face are smeared with blood and his eyes are crazy. Ravenous. My heart stops beating for a moment as my panties spontaneously combust. I’m fully aware that whatever he was out doing wasn’t a simple walk in the woods with the boys, but his dark and dangerous swagger is turning me on.
“You,” he says, making a beeline towards me without even addressing anyone else in the room. “Come on.”
I’m covered in Clutch’s blood, my hair full of gravel and dust, still wearing my clothes from the night before. Apparently, we both have a thing for each other dirty.
He picks me up effortlessly and tosses me over his shoulder before I can even realize what’s happening.
“Gavin!” Morgan calls out, popping out her hip seductively, “How’d it go?”
He doesn’t even stop to respond.
Too little too late, bitch, I think.
The man is on a mission, and I’m not about to complain. Down into the basement we go, his leather boots echoing through the long corridor, my heart beating faster with every step.
Wordlessly he puts the key in the lock and turns the doorknob.
He tosses me on the bed like a rag doll, pulling my jeans down and sliding my panties to the side. I’m soaked to the core and he slides a finger in me, pressing hard on my G-spot as he twists it around.
“Oh,” is all I can come up with.
He’s unzipping his pants, pulling them down to his ankles, his rock-hard cock pointed straight at me and he doesn’t even hesitate, just presses it to my lower lips, pulling me into him in one urgent thrust. His fingers dig into my back, pressing our bodies closer and closer together until he can’t get any deeper.
He’s biting on my neck, landing hot wet kisses behind my ears and my toes curl. The drag of his calloused lip across my collarbone pulses through my core, needy and all-consuming.
He doesn’t say a word, but the way he’s taking me speaks for itself. Raw, hard, like he owns me, like being inside me is the only thing he needs in the world right now. My back arches below him as I grip the sheets.
I feel the trembling in my thighs. I can’t hold off any longer. I close my eyes and let it flow through my body, my walls colliding around his cock and he just pushes deeper. I cum so hard that my ears are ringing. There is nothing in the world but the two of us and lust flowing through my veins. This hot pulsing dick that knows exactly how to rub me the right way.
Sweat is dripping from his forehead and his moans become louder.
He presses his mouth to my lips and I can tell by the way he’s holding me onto his dick, locking us together with his bloodstained hands, that he’s exploding inside of me, filling me with his cum.
“You’re perfect, Sloan,” he growls into my ear.
He doesn’t pull out, doesn’t let go, just runs his hands through my hair as he studies my face. I’m blissed out, high off of adrenaline from the day’s events and feeling closer to him than I ever imagined. I don’t care about the blood on his face. I don’t care where he was or what he was doing. At the end of the day, he’s here with me.
He only wants me.
I feel a tear begin rolling down my cheek and he just wipes it away, smiling at me, knowing.
“Let’s go take a shower,” he suggests. I don’t want to move. I could fall asleep like this right here, holding on to him and this moment forever, but he pulls out of me and takes me by the hand into the little attached bathroom with white subway tile lining the walls.
Reality hits me that I have no idea where I am.
This underground apartment, it’s a strange place. It’s sterile. It’s minimalist. There’s no natural light. The doors are steel and the air is unusually cold.
“Is this where you live?” I ask.
It’s not a bad place. I can tell the furniture is expensive and, aside from the trail of muddy clothes we are littering the bathroom floor with, it’s insanely clean. It’s just not him, just not the kind of place I’d expect a wild mountain man like him to live.
“For now,” he says. He draws the water, steam filling the bathroom, and begins to pull my shirt off over my head.
Stripping after sex is sensual in its own right. It’s as if he’s caring for me as he takes me down to nothing.
I’m purposely avoiding the mirror on the wall. I know my hair is full of twigs and dirt and Clutch’s blood has dried all over my clothes.
“You look so sexy all wild like that,” he laughs. I just smile and help him get out of his clothes.
We step into the shower, the rush of warm water relaxing every muscle in my body. His hands are all over me, lathering me in soap, his scent, and I just let him do what he feels like he needs to, enjoying the care and attention, savoring a moment where I don’t have to think about anything.
His touch is so natural, so nurturing. I rest my head on his perfect chest while the water beats down over us, never wanting to let go. He traces his fingers over my upper arm, and I snap back to reality.
“What’s wrong?” he asks, gripping it tighter as I try to pull away.
The bird of paradise tattoo does a good job of hiding the wreckage of my past on the surface, but the huge scar is still there if you look for it, if you feel for it.
“Nothing.” I shrug. “Just self-conscious, I guess.” I hate telling him a halfway lie, and maybe someday I can let him into that part of my world, but I’m not ready for that. I just want to enjoy whatever this is without having to think about the fact that it has to come to an end.
“You don’t have to be,” he says, looking in my eyes, and I believe him. I believe the person he thinks I am is so pristine and perfect that she could do no wrong. I don’t know how to explain to him that I’m not that person.
I press my lips to his in an attempt to show him what I need right now. Just him and silence.
He turns the water off behind me, stepping out, wrapping me in a gia
nt towel.
“I have to leave,” he says, sadly. “I don’t want to, but I have some club business to wrap up.”
“I understand.” I shrug. “I really don’t want you to go, but I understand.”
“Are you going to be ok?” he asks. “I mean, with everything today…” He trails off.
“I’m going to be fine.”
“Help yourself to anything you want. You’re safe here.”
“When are you going to be back?” I ask. Right now, all I want to do is curl up beside him in bed and feel his strong arms around me as we fall asleep.
“I don’t know,” he says, shaking his head. “I’m sorry.”
He finishes toweling off and we go into the bedroom. I sit on the edge of the bed studying every inked line on his body, every little scar, every muscle, mole, hair, every part of him, searing it in my brain so that no matter what happens, I never forget.
I watch as he dresses, watch as he picks his pistol up off the nightstand and tucks it into his waistband. Watch as he slips into his cut.
I have so many questions and my brain is just now processing everything that had happened over the course of the day, hitting me like a ton of bricks. It’s midnight. Where could he possibly be going?
“You have to be at the hospital in the morning?” he asks.
“No.”
“Alright, please don’t go anywhere.”
“I don’t have any clothes,” I say with a smile. “I’m not exactly in the best position to run off.”“Naked and full of my cum, just like I want you always.” He pulls back the covers on the bed, motioning for me to slide in. He tucks the blankets tightly around me, as if that would keep me from leaving if I really wanted to.
He kisses me on the lips, and I can feel my arousal growing strong again. I don’t know what happened today. I don’t know what changed in me tonight. I just know that I’m forever transformed.
Chapter 18