Outlaw's Promise

by Helena Newbury

  Ahead of me, I could see the guy in a suit. His attention was on the battle and then, as he neared the stalls, he took out his gun and checked it. My stomach twisted. Checking he has seven bullets.

  I looked around wildly for a solution. I couldn’t get to the women before he did. I couldn’t fight him: he had a gun and he was way bigger than me. Shit! He’d reached Cassie’s stall. She saw the gun and shrank back against the far wall.

  There was a fire extinguisher on the wall next to me. Through the haze of the drug, my mind did its thing: I saw pressures and forces, the deadly speed a screwdriver could fly out of the nozzle if I could adjust the valves—

  Only there was no time. The guy raised his gun. I frowned in drugged desperation. What would Carrick do?!

  I grabbed the fire extinguisher, swung it back and brought it down on the guy’s head with all my strength. He crumpled to the floor and I stood over him panting, adrenaline coursing through my body.

  Sometimes, simple is best.

  I started trying keys in the padlocks. “Come on,” I told the women. “We’re getting out of here.”

  A few minutes later, I was leading all seven of them back the way I’d come. When we got to the exit, they stopped and stared in wonder. Some of them had been there for a month or more: the idea that they might finally be free was too much for them to take in.

  “Go!” I told them. “Hide behind that cattle shed. The cops will be here soon.” And they ran, bare feet padding down the slope.

  I was the last one out. I was just slipping through the door when a hand grabbed my arm. Shit! I pulled as hard as I could but the grip was like iron—

  I turned and looked down. The arm wasn’t clad in an expensive suit. It was bare and tanned, thick with muscle.

  I looked up into Carrick’s blue eyes.

  “You’re meant to be out by the cattle shed,” he growled.

  I wilted against him, all the exhaustion and stress and the effect of the drugs hitting me full force. “So are you,” I mumbled. I pressed my cheek against his chest and wrapped my arms around him. “Oh God it’s good to see you!”

  He brushed his hands through my hair and down over my cheeks, then tilted my head back. His lips came down on mine: a quick, hard kiss to reclaim what was his. And I knew everything was going to be okay. I closed my eyes, opening under him and relaxing into it. But then he grudgingly pushed me back and shook his head.

  “Come on,” he said, nodding down the hill. “First, let’s get you out of—”

  His words were cut off as if someone had thrown a switch. And suddenly his whole huge body was falling, torn from my grip. He went down hard, slumping on his back on the floor. And as he fell, Volos was revealed behind him, panting in rage. He was holding a cattle prod like a baseball bat, ready to swing again.

  “Run,” croaked Carrick from the floor. And he launched himself at Volos’s legs. But Volos brought the cattle prod down again and Carrick went limp.

  I launched myself through the door and ran into the night.

  62

  Annabelle

  I could hear Volos charging down the hill behind me. I knew he was going to catch me. There was no way he couldn’t. The drug he’d given me had been held back until now by adrenaline but my body’s supply had run dry. My muscles ached, my lungs burned and my vision was going blurry.

  I saw the cattle shed ahead of me. But the last thing I wanted to do was led him to the other women. I veered and headed down the steeper side of the hill instead.

  That decision saved me. I stumbled and fell, rolling headfirst down the hill in a limp tangle of limbs. I picked up some bruises and felt like I was going to throw up but, when I picked myself up near the bottom, I’d gained a little ground on him.

  It didn’t matter, though. In front of me was the road and across that an empty field. There was no place to hide. He’d be on me in seconds. Unless—

  The MC’s bikes were right in front of me, gleaming in the moonlight just like Carrick’s bike had, twelve years before. Monstrous, chromed beasts out of my dreams.

  The drug was coming on fast, now. I was woozy and getting worse and my fall down the hill hadn’t helped. This is a bad idea. I could only just control one of the big bikes when I was at my best. But I didn’t have a choice.

  It took me two attempts to get my leg over the nearest bike. Then I frowned at the controls. I knew this stuff...but thanks to the drug, I might as well be trying to fly an alien spaceship.

  Footsteps pounding closer, off to my left. Think! Don’t look at him—think! I hit the starter button and the bike roared into life. But as the engine settled down to an idle I could hear Volos again, even closer.

  What’s next? I flipped up the kickstand, almost overbalancing. Then I twisted the throttle….

  The bike didn’t move. Volos’s feet didn’t sound like they were on grass anymore. They were on asphalt, running across the road towards me—

  I stared at the bike in drunken bewilderment for another second. Then, put it in gear, you moron! I toed the lever and felt it click.

  Volos’s hand clapped down on my shoulder and tugged, trying to pull me off the bike.

  I twisted the throttle as hard as I could and the bike leapt forward like a startled horse. If I hadn’t been gripping the throttle so hard, it would have shot straight out from under me. Volos’s hand kept hold of my shoulder for a split-second...and then slipped free and I was roaring off down the road.

  63

  Carrick

  Volos threw down the cattle prod and sprinted after Annabelle. I groggily climbed to my feet...then fell hard on my ass again, the room tilting and spinning. Fuck! I’d taken way too many hits to the head in the past week.

  But he was after Annabelle. She needed me.

  Grunting, I hauled myself to my feet and set off down the hill after them. My stomach lurched as I saw him closing in on her. But then she got on Hunter’s bike and roared away. Atta girl!

  Volos stared after her for a second and then ran to his SUV. Shit. By the time I reached the road, he had it started and was tearing after her. I scrambled onto my bike and gave chase.

  Annabelle had a good head start but she was still new to riding and she didn’t dare push the bike as fast as it could go. Volos started to close the gap, inching closer to her rear wheel. I twisted the throttle hard, surging up behind him. He saw me in his rearview and started weaving from side to side, refusing to let me get alongside him.

  We reached the road that led up the mountain and started to climb. Volos was creeping slowly closer to Annabelle: his headlights lit her up and I saw her twist around and look back, her eyes wide. That made her bike veer dangerously and my stomach leapt up into my throat. There were no crash barriers here, just wooden fences. Miss one corner and you’d fly out into space and pinwheel down the mountain.

  We climbed higher and higher and still I couldn’t get past Volos. Annabelle’s bike was no match for the power of Volos’s SUV, on these inclines, and he closed right up behind her...and then came alongside. He swung sideways, aiming to ram her back wheel, and I heard her panicked cry.

  She veered out of the way but that took her off the asphalt and into the dirt. The bike skidded sickeningly, sending gravel flying. My heart almost stopped as she skidded towards the edge...but she regained control just in time and straightened out. It had taken everything she had: I could see her hanging limply over the handlebars, completely drained. And Volos was opening the space between them, getting ready to swerve again and drive her off the edge.

  Now.

  I twisted the throttle as hard as it would go and pressed myself low on my bike. Just as Volos opened a gap, I raced through and came between him and Annabelle. She was grimly clinging to the handlebars, her face pale and her eyes struggling to stay open. I swung my bike as close to hers as I dared and held out my hand. She looked at me with wide, terrified eyes.

  “I won’t let you fall,” I promised.

  Volos saw what I was doing and
started to swerve across the road towards us.

  Annabelle took a deep breath, pushed off from the handlebars and threw herself towards me. Her bike fell sideways and she barely got her legs clear in time, but then she was clinging to my shoulders and I had one hand on her ass, clutching her to me as I twisted the throttle—

  We shot forward. Volos’s SUV missed our rear wheel by inches and drove over Annabelle’s bike. The front wheels came off the ground and I saw Volos wrenching at the wheel as he lost control of the steering—

  And then there was a crash and shriek of splintering wood as the car plunged through the barrier and off the edge of the mountain. A few seconds later, we heard the crunch of metal as he hit and rolled for the first time. The noises took a long time to stop coming.

  I hit the brakes and pulled up. Annabelle was clinging to me like a limpet, her eyes closed and her breathing weak. “Annabelle?” I cupped her cheeks and pressed her gently back so I could look at her. “Annabelle? Say something!”

  She half-opened her eyes and looked at me. Groggy. Shaken. And just as determined as that night I’d first met her. “Don’t let go of me until I wake up,” she said, her voice insistent.

  I pulled her into my chest and folded my arms around her. “I promise,” I said softly.

  Epilogue

  Annabelle

  One Month Later

  “You’re sure the crane can take the weight?” Carrick asked, looking up and shielding his eyes from the sun.

  “Oh, yes. Actually, it’s really interesting: I was talking to the crane driver earlier and he was saying how as long as the arm isn’t fully extended, the load’s mostly taken by the—” I glanced sideways: his eyes were glazing over. “Yes, it can take the weight.”

  I could see why he was nervous, though. The doublewide trailer looked enormous as it swung over the compound’s fence. But as we all held our breath, it settled gently into place atop the supports I’d built for it. Mom’s new home had officially arrived.

  “Needs a lick of paint,” said Mom from beside me. “And some plants.” But she was grinning. Behind us, the new couch—even bigger than the last one but just as purple—was already waiting for us to unbolt one of the trailer’s sides and carry it in. Mr. Fluffy was curled up in the very center and would probably stay there throughout the whole process.

  “I’ll get the propane hooked up,” said Ox. He’d awoken from his coma after three days and found himself with a metal plate in his head, a broken arm but no long-term damage. I was already working with Scooter to custom-build a new Harley for him. We’d also built a new outhouse to store the propane tanks. If there was ever another fire, Mom wouldn’t be sitting on a bomb.

  As the sun started to go down, the guys got the oil drum barbecue going and music began to pour out of the clubhouse. The nights were getting cooler now and I could feel my arms getting gooseflesh. But then Carrick’s muscled body pressed against my back and his arms wrapped around my waist, hugging me to his warmth. I sighed and snuggled back against him.

  I saw Mac looking on approvingly. Things had gotten much, much easier for the club in the last month. When Carrick and I had first arrived back at the slaughterhouse, we’d found the cops trying to arrest the entire MC. But as soon as the guy I’d clubbed over the head with a fire extinguisher learned that Volos was dead, he abandoned his story about the MC being responsible and told the police everything he knew. Suddenly, the whole thing turned into a much bigger investigation. Several very senior, very embarrassed FBI agents descended on the town to find out how one of their own had fooled them for so long. And once it came out that Volos had had one of his men plant the coke, the MC were released.

  Everyone wanted to talk to me, especially when I told them about the phone call I’d heard between Volos and the guy in Vienna. There were rumors of an Austrian guy who controlled a whole worldwide network trafficking in women: Volos’s boss, essentially. He was so shadowy the FBI didn’t even have a name and he’d only been glimpsed once, when he came to Texas to try to buy fake passports. “Tell the Sisters of Invidia about this,” I overheard one FBI agent mutter to another.

  Who the hell were the Sisters of Invidia? It sounded like a band.

  Mom took charge of looking after the women who’d been imprisoned in the slaughterhouse with me. While the FBI handled interviewing them and getting them counseling, Mom made sure they were fed, clothed and given rooms at Haywood Falls’ one hotel until they could contact their families. She was fiercely protective of them, even telling the FBI to back off when the endless interviews got too much. Of the seven women, five went home to their families in other parts of California. Two—Cassie and a woman named Francesca—were in the same situation as me, sold by a family member. Those family members—along with my step-dad—were arrested and the women began to build new lives: Francesca in LA and Cassie in San Francisco. Both promised to visit as soon as they were settled.

  The reputation of the Hell’s Princes gradually started to heal. It helped that the local press hailed them as heroes who’d helped bring down a corrupt FBI agent. And Sheriff Harris had helped broker a deal with the FBI to cover some of the cost of the warehouse fire, since it was one of their agents who’d started it. Money would be tight for a while but the club would survive. Mac was already looking around for a new legitimate business to invest in.

  And me? I’d found my place. It was in the club’s workshop, helping Scooter repair, customize and tune. He was overjoyed to find someone who talked his language and we got on well despite his grumpiness. He was even making noises about me taking over when he finally retired. I’d never been happier and would work late into the night until Carrick came and pulled me away from the engine blocks and into his arms.

  Tonight, though, I was taking a break. Tonight, I just wanted to be with my man. The compound and the clubhouse, once so intimidating, had come to feel like home. And Haywood Falls was turning out to be a great place to live...maybe even a great place to raise a family, one day.

  Carrick lowered his lips to the back of my neck, brushing my hair out of the way. He still couldn’t seem to get enough of my hair, always sinking his fingers into it as he kissed me or sweeping it forward to fall over my breasts as I rode him in bed. Now, though, there was a new twist: when he pushed it back off my bare shoulder it revealed his name, picked out in black ink. I wanted the world to know that he was my love. Forever.

  He’d got one, too, on his right bicep. My name in curling, elegant script, the letters riding the wings of a brightly-colored butterfly. When I asked why the butterfly, he mumbled something about thinking about me that way. For a hard man, he could be sweet as hell once you drilled deep enough.

  His kisses traced a line around my neck, working their way towards my lips, and I twisted to meet him, tilting my head back and gasping as those hard Irish lips met my soft ones. What started slow and gentle quickly turned hot. He squeezed me closer and my breasts crushed against his chest. His tongue played with mine and the kiss turned open-mouthed and hungry.

  “Everyone’s watching,” I panted, breaking the kiss for a second and flushing red.

  He glanced around, then shrugged. “Don’t care.” And he pulled me even closer. My body molded against his as he kissed me long and deep. I closed my eyes and willingly gave myself up to it, kissing and grinning at the same time. There would be other challenges for the club and for us. I didn’t kid myself that life with an outlaw would ever be simple. But we felt right together, like two parts of a machine that mesh perfectly and work in beautiful, rhythmic harmony.

  Carrick

  The Next Day

  “Keep ‘em closed,” I told her, leading her by the hand. I checked and she was doing it, her eyes squeezed closed despite all the logs and branches underfoot. She trusted me completely and that made my chest open up in a way I hadn’t been expecting. This relationship stuff was going to take some getting used to.

  When we eventually arrived, I put my hands on Annabelle’s shoulders
and guided her until she was in the perfect position. “Okay,” I said. I could hear just a trace of nerves in my voice. “Open them.”

  She opened her eyes. The sun was just coming up, drenching the place in pinks and golds. The dew was still fresh on the greenery around it. It had meant getting up at the crack of dawn to ride out here and Annabelle wasn’t a morning person—I’d have to feed her coffee and pastries when we got back to town. But it was worth it to see the place like this...I hoped.

  Annabelle blinked a few times. “It’s where we spent the night,” she said slowly. “It’s beautiful.” Then she frowned. “The door looks new. Is someone living here now?”

  I just turned to her and smiled.

  Her jaw dropped. “You bought it?!”

  I shrugged. “Turns out, they didn’t want much for it, ‘cos it’d been empty for so long. We can live at my place but, when we want to get away from town, maybe on a weekend....”

  She flew at me and whumped into my chest, red hair tickling my nose. “I love it!”

  “It needs a lot of work,” I warned.

  “That’s the best part!” She was almost bouncing up and down. I could see that mind of hers going to work, already planning all kinds of things. “Can we stay here tonight?”

  “If you’re okay with sleeping bags and a lantern for light...yep.”

  She hugged me again. “Thank you.”

  I kissed the top of her head. And then picked her up, tossed her over my shoulder and carried her inside, just like I had the first time.