Outlaw's Promise

by Helena Newbury

  “It was a fucked up scene,” I muttered. “What happened, anyway? How’d you end up being…” I broke off. I didn’t want to say it.

  “Sold.”

  Just the sound of the word made me mad. That someone would dare to think they had the right to possess her. “Yeah. Sold.”

  She sat down on the bed. That made it a little easier to breathe but, immediately, I missed that closeness. “My step-dad,” she said, staring at the floor. “He was in a lot of debt. I guess the Blood Spiders offered him a way out.” She glanced at the window. “You think we’re safe here?”

  “Safe as we can be. I’ll keep watch while you sleep. And tomorrow I’ll get you out of here.” I ran a hand through my hair. What I was about to say went against everything I was used to. “And then you should go to the cops.”

  She immediately shook her head, long red hair hanging down to cover her face.

  “They can protect you—”

  She lifted her head. “Teston’s chief of police was one of the guys trying to buy me.”

  I felt my face fall. “Ah, shit.” Most outlaw MCs have some cops on the payroll. We do. But if the chief of police was mixed up in this, if he felt confident enough to be right there at the auction, it probably went even higher. Maybe the state police were in on it. Annabelle was dead as soon as she got in a cop car.

  That only left one option. “You could go to the FBI,” I said. I had trouble getting the word FBI out for two reasons. Firstly because the feds—ATF and FBI—are our worst enemies, always circling, waiting for us to screw up just once so they can take us down for good. And secondly because saying FBI took me straight back to that night: a crashed car by the side of the road and the smell of cordite and blood….

  The room spun a little. I reached behind me and let one hand rest on the handlebars of my bike: I needed something to keep me grounded.

  “It’s not just the auction and the bikers,” Annabelle said, her voice almost a whisper. “The man who was going to buy me, Volos...even they were scared of him. I heard the president of the Blood Spiders talking to my dad: he’s protected.”

  I slowly sank to the bed beside her. Protected could mean a lot of things. Mafia, either ours or the Russians or maybe the Chinese? Or just friends in very high places? Either way, if that was true then we couldn’t trust anyone. I sighed. “Then you need to disappear,” I said. “If you stay quiet, they’ve got no reason to come after you, as long as they don’t think you’re going to the cops. You can go somewhere new, start a new life….”

  She blinked at me. “We just let them get away with it?”

  My heart sank. There’s nothing like seeing wide-eyed innocence to make you realize how jaded you’ve gotten. She actually believed that bad guys went to jail. “Yeah,” I said sadly. “We let them get away with it.” Seeing the dismay break across her face, I wanted so bad for the world to be like she’d imagined it, for every last bad guy to be behind bars. Even though I’d be one of them.

  I saw her shoulders rise, just once, like the tremor before an earthquake. Tears were close...and that made something stir inside me, something I hadn’t been counting on. I wanted to rip what remained of her clothes off, sure, but this was deeper. I really couldn’t bear to see her cry.

  “Sorry,” she said, starting to blink. “Just...I keep thinking about my step-dad. I lived under his roof for years, and all that time...that’s all I ever was to him. He never loved me. I was just a thing to him, to be sold. That’s all I was!”

  The anger boiled up inside me: rage at her step-dad that felt all too familiar. I knew what it was like to be betrayed. Before I knew what I was doing, I had my finger under her chin and I was tilting her face up to look at me. “Hey!” I snapped. When she was looking right into my eyes, I said, “Listen to me. You’re not someone’s fucking property. You’re worth more than your step-dad or the bikers or that Volos fucker, or anyone else. You’re fucking priceless. And don’t let anyone tell you different.”

  I was at least as surprised as she was by the steel in my voice, like I was telling some fucker to put his gun down. The thought of her crying had just brought it out of me.

  But it worked. She blinked back the tears, nodded and gave a hesitant, embarrassed little smile. It hit me like a sucker punch in the chest: a smile that would make a man’s whole day. Damnit! Why did she have to have one of those smiles? I could feel myself teetering on the very brink of self control. All I had to do was lean forward and my lips would be right on hers.

  I stood up and turned my back on her. “Get some sleep,” I grunted.

  10

  Annabelle

  I nodded quickly, climbed into bed and pulled the covers over me. Then I lay there on my side facing the window, trying to get myself under control. I was a mess: part of me still wanted to cry; part of me was scared; part of me just wanted him. Despite everything that was going on, I was into him. Really into him. In fact, he might be the first guy I really was into. All through school, the other girls had chattered about clean-cut boy bands and then quarterbacks and then movie stars. And sure, some of them had been good looking but I’d always thought there was something wrong with me because they’d always left me cold.

  Carrick? He set me on freakin’ fire.

  It occurred to me that maybe there hadn’t been something wrong with me at all. Maybe I’d just been around boys—some of them grown-up boys, but still boys. Maybe I’d just needed to meet a man.

  It wasn’t just the muscles or the tattoos or even that gorgeous face. There was a confidence about him. Like he’d seen every horrible thing life could possibly come up with and nothing could phase him, anymore. Except….

  Except when he looked at me.

  When he looked at me, that coldness in his eyes disappeared for a second and he looked like the guy I’d first met. Did that mean I could help him regain what he’d lost?

  I lifted my head just a little. He was over by the window, with his back to me. As I watched, he turned off the light and then lifted one corner of the drapes to look outside. The overhead bulb lit up the Hell’s Princes insignia that covered his shoulders and the whole muscled hardness of his upper back. I could just make out another tattoo, as well, lower down, so small it was easy to miss: a shamrock. I found myself tracing the lines of his back.

  When I closed my eyes again, my mind was filled by an image of his chest, the pecs broad and huge. When he’d strode out of the shower surrounded by steam, as if walking right out of hell itself, I hadn’t been able to take my eyes off of it. Those smooth slabs of muscle looked so solid, so hard….

  How had an Irishman come to be with a Californian MC? I knew almost nothing about his past. Even when I’d first met him, he’d only talked about the now, about riding and fights and bars, as if anything before that was off limits.

  I couldn’t figure him out. When he looked at me, it was as if he wanted to tear the clothes right off my body. I wasn’t used to even thinking about sending out signals, but I was fairly sure I was sending out the right ones. Yet the closer we got, the more he gruffly pushed me away.

  Me being me, it reminded me of opposing magnets. The way you can bring them closer and closer together and they’ll push harder and harder apart, twisting and turning to avoid each other….

  Until they get too close. And then one of them will suddenly flip around and they’ll snap together so fast it scares you.

  I knew I should be scared. He was a stranger and I was alone in a motel room with him. He was an outlaw, a criminal. And yet however hard I tried, I couldn’t be scared of him. Not after he’d come for me like that, after twelve years. Not when he’d taken a beating to save me. Not when the man who should have protected me, my step-dad, was the person who’d started all this, and the police were tied up in it, too. I might never trust anyone again...but I trusted Carrick.

  I thought it would be impossible to sleep with him standing there but, slowly, I began to sink down towards the blackness. I could feel him watching over
me, a big, solid presence committed to protecting me. I’d never had that before and it felt wonderful.

  I slept.

  11

  Carrick

  I woke disoriented. I knew something was wrong even before I opened my eyes. The bed was too soft to be one of the spare rooms at the clubhouse. At my apartment, I usually passed out on my couch in the early hours. Someone else’s bed? Some woman I’d gone home with after a party? That sounded plausible. But I didn’t have a hangover.

  Then I became aware of a warm presence in front of me. I was lying on my side and a soft female ass was nestled against my groin. I was spooning her and she was pressed against me all the way from shoulder to toes.

  I opened my eyes...and saw flame-red hair.

  Shit!

  Annabelle lay like a sleeping princess, her head slightly turned towards me, strands of her hair moving as she gently inhaled and exhaled.

  Did we…?

  No. I’d stood by the window, ready to raise the alarm if I saw any Blood Spiders coming, but by two AM the distant roar of bikes had gone. By then, Annabelle had long since gone to sleep.

  I’d meant to keep watch all night but I was exhausted: I’d been about ready to drop when I arrived at the clubhouse, before this all started, then I’d had the ride to Teston and all the craziness at the bar. I had colorful bruises all across my ribs and back where the Blood Spiders had beat me but the worst thing was my shoulders: all the riding had turned them to cold, unyielding concrete shot through with jagged pain. The bed looked as soft and inviting as a cloud sent from heaven.

  But she was in the bed. It was hard enough restraining myself when she was safely across the room.

  Eventually, I decided I’d climb under the covers but not sleep. Hell, I can never normally get to sleep anyway, so staying awake wouldn’t be a problem. I’d just lie there, not touching her, and rest my shoulders for a while and then—

  And the next thing I knew, I was waking up spooning her and daylight was flooding through a crack in the drapes. Annabelle’s soft, warm body must have had some kind of magical effect on me because I’d slept like a fucking log. I felt fully awake and rested for the first time in months.

  Only now, I somehow had to climb out of bed without waking her. Not easy when I was tight up against her, and that lithe, ripe body was dressed only in a few scraps of black fabric—

  I felt my cock respond to the thought, thickening and hardening against the crack of her ass. Shit! I tried to think of something: anything but her. Spark plugs. Exhaust headers. Pistons. Pistons pumping smoothly the way I’d pump between those pale, perfect thighs, Annabelle moaning under me as I—

  My cock reared and swelled, pressing against her panties. Annabelle gave a low moan in her sleep.

  I started to scooch back across the bed. That’s when I realized my arm was wrapped around her body, my hand just under her breast. Fuck!

  I lay there for a heartbeat, cock iron hard, body tense. A man can only take so much. All I had to do was flip her over on her back and wake her with a kiss like in a fairy tale. All my fantasies about her could become hot, panting reality….

  And then what? Slap her ass and send her on her way, like one of the girls I’d fuck after a party? No way. She deserved better than that. What, then? A relationship? With me? No way. I couldn’t bear to see her face when she discovered the blood I had on my hands.

  I moved back across the bed, slowly withdrawing my hand from her chest. The top of my index finger was just brushing against the underside of her breast—God she was perfection. Just a little further—

  She grumbled something in her sleep, grabbed my hand and pulled it back around her, clasping it to her.

  My heart rose in my chest, a big expanding ball of warmth...and then it shrank down, tight and hard and cold. She felt protected by me. She thought I was some sort of fucking hero.

  I went to extricate my hand...but the way she clasped it there felt so goddamn good. It was several seconds before I could bring myself to do it. Then I gently rolled off the bed and pulled on my jeans.

  For her sake, I had to get her as far away from me as possible. And it started right now: I couldn’t stay in that room a second longer, or I was going to do something fucking stupid, like dive back into bed and kiss her awake.

  I pulled on my t-shirt and boots, threw on my cut—then stopped. The Blood Spiders might still be looking for us. They might have even passed around a description.

  I slowly took off my cut. It felt like chopping off an arm. I folded it carefully over the back of a chair and then headed out.

  My plan was to get us something to eat—I was starved and I knew she probably was, too. Plus, she needed something to wear. She couldn’t ride around in her underwear in broad daylight. It felt weird walking instead of riding but when a couple of Blood Spiders roared past me I knew I’d made the right choice. I kept my head down, hands shoved in my jeans. Luckily, my t-shirt hid most of my ink.

  There were only two stores in the village: a general store and a cafe. I tried the general store first, without much hope. Yep: everything from envelopes to saucepans but I couldn’t see any clothes. I stomped over to the shop assistant. “You got anything to wear?” I growled.

  She flinched and backed up a step, eyes huge.

  Shit. Wasn’t often I had to deal with people. I spent so much time being intimidating, I forgot to turn it off. These last few years, I’d almost forgotten how to turn it off. I tried to soften my voice. “It’s for a woman.”

  The shop assistant swallowed and nodded. “We don’t really do clothes. But…” She led me to the back of the store, her voice growing more confident with each step. “A local woman makes these so we keep a few in stock. We don’t often sell one but they’re awesome.”

  Three dresses hung on the wall. I ran my hand through my hair. I had no clue about fucking dresses. They looked nice enough, though sort of old-fashioned.

  “Is it for someone special?” the shop assistant asked.

  I nearly laughed. I wasn’t that guy: romance and dates and buying each other gifts. But the laugh died in my throat. With Annabelle, the idea didn’t seem like something I wanted to laugh at. Jesus, what’s wrong with me?

  “Yeah,” I muttered. I pointed at the blue dress. “That one.”

  I paid for it and then headed to the cafe. There I got two big takeout cups of coffee, a third of milk and a box of pastries. I took the whole lot back to the motel...and opened the door just as Annabelle came out of the shower.

  12

  Annabelle

  I froze, my hair dripping down my back, the towel clutched around my naked body. The towel was small enough that keeping both my top half and bottom half decent required pinpoint positioning and absolutely no movement. For a second, Carrick and I just stared at one another as little drips of water pattered into the carpet.

  “I bought breakfast,” he muttered at last. Then he held out a bag. “And a dress.”

  “A dress?”

  He put the bag down on the bed. He put the cups and cardboard carton he was carrying on the desk, next to where the Harley was parked. The entire time, his eyes didn’t leave my body. I swore I could feel the water evaporating from my skin as those blue eyes scorched me.

  “I should dry off,” I said. “And get dressed.”

  He nodded, still staring at me. “Yeah.”

  “There’s not much room in the bathroom. And the floor’s wet. So I kinda need to do it in here.”

  He still didn’t take the hint. He just kept staring, his eyes tracking an S-shaped path down my body, from the damp upper slope of one breast, down over the towel and back across my stomach to where the towel ended, dangerously close to my groin. “Mm-hmm.”

  “So, uh...could you turn around?”

  He looked me in the eye and I almost took a step back. I’d never in my life seen such a look of raw, hot need. I don’t know, his gaze said. Can I? As if he really might not be able to tear his eyes away, as if I drove hi
m crazy.

  I’d never driven a man crazy, before.

  He turned around slowly, as if moving his limbs through wet concrete. His head was the last to turn, those blue eyes watching me until they absolutely had to let me go. Then his back was to me, the powerful muscles rising and falling as he breathed.

  I swallowed and unwrapped the towel from me. Every square millimeter of skin tingled and throbbed. He’s six feet from me! Close enough that I could hear his breathing.

  “You want milk in your coffee?” he asked. He turned just a little to the side, towards where he’d put the cups. I caught my breath. All he’d have to do now would be to glance to the side and—

  “Yep. Milk is good. Thank you,” I croaked.

  I bent to towel off my legs and feet, which meant taking my eyes off him. Is he looking? I could feel my breasts hanging down—was that his gaze I could feel on them, or just my imagination? My nipples started to pucker and swell. Jesus….

  I straightened up. He was facing completely away from me, carefully stirring one of the coffees. Oh. I flushed, embarrassed...and just a little disappointed. He hadn’t been—

  Then I saw myself, reflected in the chrome of the Harley’s gas tank. He was staring right at that little, distorted mini-me.

  I caught my breath, found my underwear and pulled it on. I tried to do it matter-of-factly...but when you know someone’s watching you, nothing is matter-of-fact. I felt like a stripper, only in reverse. This is crazy. This is me, the geeky one. The one none of the boys were interested in.

  But he was. I could see the back of his head tilt and move, following every shimmy as I pulled my panties up my legs. I felt the heat begin to build, throbbing steadily down my body to pool between my thighs. This is wrong. I should turn around, or tell him to stop watching. But I didn’t want to. I was getting hotter and hotter...and I felt oddly proud.