Outlaw's Salvation (A Viper’s Bite MC Novel Book 2): A Bad Boy MC Romance (Viper's Bite MC)

by Lena Bourne

  “Great, I’ll see you soon!” I say, hoping she can hear just how happy that idea makes me.

  Chapter Two

  BRETT

  The rifle needs cleaning. But I can’t even bring myself to take it out of the box, let alone disassemble it. So it’ll have to wait. Again. It’s almost dark anyway. Time for a drink. If I only start drinking after it gets dark then I’m not an alcoholic. But, if I’m honest, that ship sailed awhile ago. Around the time Candy left me. Or maybe even before then.

  It probably started around the time I traded my skills as a US Army trained sniper to the Sinaloa cartel to save my life. Wrong place, wrong time, if there ever was such a thing. Wrong decision too. If my CO could see me now he’d probably shoot me himself. He taught me all I know, and I bet he’d regret it now, if he knew what came of it. And the Army, they’d take my Honorable Discharge away for sure. They probably did that already, for other reasons. I haven’t been keeping up with my mail back home. What’s the point? I’ll never be able to return to the US. I’ll die here in Tijuana.

  The sun hasn’t set completely yet, but I pop open a beer anyway, take it out to the balcony to watch the rest of the sunset. Most days I sleep until nightfall, and the ones I don’t, I spend wishing I had. Most days I also don’t know why I thought the bargain to sell off my skills to save my life was worth it. Because now, fifty successful kills in and counting, I’d have made a different decision. Most days I wish the rifle would just explode in my face on a job. That’s probably why I don’t clean it as I should. A coward’s wish that is. But I don’t even mind being that anymore.

  My phone starts ringing somewhere in the living room, but I make no move to get it. Let it ring. It’s probably the cartel calling about another job. One of these days I just won’t pick up. But the ringing doesn’t stop, just goes on and on, until I finally reconcile myself to the fact that today is not that day. I’m only twenty-six, damn it, but I feel sixty, and I’m so fucking sick of feeling sorry for myself.

  But it’s not the cartel calling. It’s Tommy, my former brother from Viper’s Bite MC. And I’m glad, but not overmuch. We haven’t spoken in months. I’m not exactly mad at him for betraying Shade and destroying the MC the way he did. But I’d still much rather he hadn’t done it. I wouldn’t be in this mess—killing people for money, unable to ever return home—if he hadn’t done that. But I understand why he did it. Hell, maybe I’d have done the same thing if it was to save my girlfriend’s sister. Not that I’ve been able to keep a girlfriend long enough for such a grand gesture to even become a possibility.

  And besides, if I just listened to my mother and never joined the MC in the first place, I wouldn’t be in this mess either.

  “Brett, how are you?” Tommy asks as I pick up. The urgency in his voice tells me I shouldn’t even bother answering the question, but after all this time pleasantries should be observed.

  “I’m getting by,” I say. “It’s been awhile, Tommy.”

  “Yeah, sorry about that,” he says, and I think he means it. “But we’ll get caught up in person soon. Listen, can you do me a favor?”

  I don’t even know which question to ask first. But I’ve known him a long time, and he likes to get to the point. “What kind of favor?”

  “You still in Tijuana, right?” he asks.

  “Can’t exactly go back to the States, now can I? I’m wanted for the Indian casino heist.”

  There’s a pause after I say it like he’s waiting for me to go on, but we’ve been over this already. He’s sorry he fucked me over, but there’s no going back now, and he’d do it again if he had to. We both realize that. At least he warned me ahead of time to stay in hiding.

  “So what’s this favor?” I ask after a few more moments of the tense silence.

  “We’re supposed to be meeting Tara’s sister in some hotel there, but we can’t make it yet. Tara’s sick, she can’t travel right now, and her sister’s not picking up her phone, so we can’t make alternate plans.”

  “You’re coming here?” I ask, mostly to interrupt his rambling.

  “Yeah, as soon as we can. Could you go meet her sister, and make sure she doesn’t get into any kind of mess?”

  I’m on the verge of saying no. Tara’s sister is supposed to be testifying against Shade and the Vagos for all I know. The Vagos are a part of the Sinaloa cartel, the part that operates in the States, and the last thing I need is to get into even deeper shit with them. Besides, that woman is the main reason I’m in all that shit in the first place.

  “What’s wrong with Tara?” I ask instead.

  “Fuck if I know, and the doctors don’t either. She’s not well though, and I’m freaking out. No one here speaks much English and—“

  “Don’t do anything crazy,” I say because I hear he’s about to in his voice. He’s ready to explode and that’s never been a pretty sight. “You want these people to help her.”

  “I know, I know, I’ll try. Will you meet her sister, make sure she’s safe? I’d call her fucking father to come get her, but Tara won’t let me do that, so you’re the only person I can ask.”

  “Sure, why not.” I can’t believe I just said that. It was the bitterness in his tone. And the fact that this is a lot like old times. Back when we were still brothers in the MC and always had each other’s back. Besides, I don’t think I actually ever said no to Tommy, and this would be a fucked up time to start. “How will I recognize her? And at least try to let her know to expect me.”

  “I would, but like I already said, she’s not picking up the phone. I never fucking met a more high-maintenance chick in my life.”

  Just what I need. A high-maintenance chick to watch over.

  “I’ll send you some photos of her, you should have no trouble recognizing her. She’s gorgeous.”

  “Wow, a gorgeous high-maintenance chick…exactly my type,” I say going for sarcasm, though it just comes out flat. Everything I say lately comes out flat. I’ve stopped worrying about it.

  “You’ll do fine, Brett,” Tommy says. “Just be yourself.”

  He can’t possibly mean that. Every piece of advice he’s ever given me about women began with, “Just don’t be your usual self”.

  “Getting a steady girlfriend really changed you, man.”

  He chuckles. “It has. And she’s not just my girlfriend anymore, she’s my wife.”

  The revelation renders me speechless. I never thought Tommy would ever deliver a line like that. Not in a million years. Yet here he is, sounding all proud and happy to be married.

  “Congrats, I guess,” I finally manage to say past the surprise.

  “Thanks. I’ll send over the photos now. She should already be there. We were supposed to meet her tomorrow night at nine. Her name’s Samantha.”

  I check my watch. It’s just after eight. This is one hell of an errand. I’d planned to stay in tonight. Drink myself numb. But I do that every night. Maybe a diversion like this is exactly what I need. I’ll go check out the hotel she’s staying at, maybe find her tonight already. If not, then tomorrow.

  “Alright, I’ll do my best.”

  We say our goodbyes after that, and the texts with Samantha’s photos start coming a couple of seconds later. He’s absolutely right. She is gorgeous. Slender curves and legs for days. In most of the photos, she has long, straight brown hair with not a strand out of place. Her dark blue eyes remind me of the ocean covered by long afternoon shadows. Everything about her, from the expensive clothes she’s wearing, to her long, polished nails and impeccably applied makeup is just so put together. Only her eyes betray that perfect exterior, reveal that she’s not really all that put together, even in the photos where she’s smiling.

  She’s a sight though, and I have trouble putting the pictures away and getting out of the apartment even after I memorize her face fully. I’m sure of one thing though. She’s exactly the type of woman who’d never go for the real me. Who ever that is anymore.

  I know the hotel Samantha�
�s staying at. It has a night club Candy was very fond of, due to their half-price cocktails or something. It’s also the place where one of those fucking Vagos recognized me. They’re livid over what Tommy did. From what I’ve been able to piece together listening to their broken English and with my basic understanding of Spanish, is that their operations in Southern California and Arizona are on hold because of it. Probably permanently. And the cartel doesn’t like that one bit. They were ready to kill Candy and me that night. Fifteen of them dragged us out into a stinking alley, ready to beat me to death and rape her. Then kill her too. I couldn’t let that happen. So I bargained off my skill as a sniper, and it turns out they were in serious need of those services. That was almost a year ago and I shouldn’t have. Candy stayed with me for a couple of months after that, but I think it was more out of thankfulness than anything else. We were supposed to spend a fun weekend in Tijuana, she never bargained for anything more. Either way, she got tired of me and my self pity pretty quickly. I don’t miss her as much as I thought I would. But I won’t think about that tonight. I do enough thinking about it on other nights.

  I’ll do this favor for Tommy. It’ll be like the good old days, before he decided to throw us all to the wolves. But I won’t dwell on that either tonight. This mission is a diversion, might even be a little fun, and I could use some of that.

  It’s early, but the music’s already blaring in the club, since this is one of those places where the party never stops. That’s another reason why Candy liked it so much. The place is about half full, the dancing people spilling out onto the beach. They’re mostly college students, here to party up one of the last weekends before school starts. In a couple of months, this town will be deserted. There are very few things more depressing than a beach town in winter, but that’s another thing I won’t worry about tonight.

  I take my position at the far end of the bar, my back to the rear and side walls. The restrooms are behind me, so it’s a pretty good place to intersect a woman. I order a beer then start scanning the crowd to find Samantha. Despite all my training and experience finding targets, it soon starts to look like a lost cause. There are at least fifty girls with long brown hair in this place, and they all look alike, with more streaming in from the openings by the minute. The overhead lights are turned down low, the strobes flashing, so everything’s either in shadow or flickering green, purple or red. I’m gonna have to come back during the day, ask for her at reception. Scouting her out clearly won’t work.

  Besides, my eyes keep locking on that girl with shoulder length black hair in a tight blue dress sitting alone at the other edge of the bar. She’s facing away from me, looking at the crowd, so I can only see her profile and her long, long legs. They’re crossed, her sandaled foot tapping along to the music. It takes a lot of concentration and effort to keep looking away from her every time some new woman walks in, or the crowd parts to reveal sections of the club I haven’t yet examined thoroughly. I’m not the only one watching her either. But she’s not paying attention or reacting to any of her would-be admirers. Her gaze is fixed on the middle distance, and she seems to be engrossed in something only visible to her.

  It’s been awhile since I picked up a woman in a bar, or wanted to this bad. But I have an errand to run tonight. Though technically, I’m not due to start that until tomorrow night. So I could take this woman home.

  A short Mexican guy that I’m pretty sure is attached to the cartel walks up to her, no secrets as to what he’s after as he eyes her up and down before leaning in and whispering something in her ear. The primal urge to walk over and grab him by the throat, physically remove him from her presence is strong. Not unfamiliar just strange, because she’s a stranger. She smiles at the guy demurely and shakes her head, then says something to him with a faint smile still playing on her lips.

  I’m staring at her very intently at this point, like I’m trying to read her lips and know what she’s saying, that she finally sees me, turns her head all the way towards me. Her eyes narrow then widen as she checks me out, the little Mexican beside her forgotten. And he doesn’t look happy about that.

  Fuck my luck, but it’s her. Samantha. Her hair’s shorter and dyed black, but after staring at her photos for almost two hours, I’d recognize her eyes anywhere. And I’d even have a chance with her, judging by the way she’s checking me out. But she’s Tommy’s sister-in-law now, and he wouldn’t appreciate me messing around with her.

  Why the fuck did I agree to this? I wish I hadn’t. Because keeping my hands off her will be hard.

  The Mexican is still standing next to her, muttering something under his breath as he checks her out with a lewd, dirty look in his black eyes. She doesn’t even notice it though, since she’s still looking at me, our eyes locked, an understanding passing between us, as though we already know each other. Her eyes flick to the guy that won’t get lost like she told him to. I know what she’s asking me to do. It’s clear like she spoke the words. But I’d do it anyway. That puny Mexican is pissing me off.

  I leave my half finished beer on the bar and walk over, yank the Mexican back by his arm just as he reaches out to grab her thigh. For some reason, his boldness makes rage boil inside me. Pure, red hot rage. And my anger practically never gets to rage. I’m too patient for that. It’s what makes me such a good sniper.

  “The lady doesn’t want your company,” I tell him, still gripping his arm hard. He’s head and shoulders shorter than me, and tiny. But he’s wiry and guys like that can sometimes be dangerous. He twists away from me, ripping his arm from my grasp, and I let him. When he turns, the red, green and blue lights flashing in the club are glinting off the blade of a knife in his hand.

  I laugh at him, hear Samantha gasp beside me. She flashes me a weird look that’s a mix between shock and admiration. Maybe even a little desire thrown in. I’m not real danger though. The blade of that knife doesn’t look long enough to cut through the muscles of my stomach and hit anything vital. And he might me too short to reach my neck.

  I wasn’t gonna let this get physical so soon, but with the way she’s watching me, the urge to show off is uncontrollable. I grab his wrist, twist and smack it to make him drop his knife. It’s a pretty straight forward move, since he was just showing me his knife at this point, not committing to an attack. But even then I’d be able to do the same thing just as successfully.

  I step on the knife, still twisting his wrist.

  “You know who I am, right?” I ask slowly, making sure he hears and understands every word. Recognition finally shies through the anger and pain in his face. “The boss wouldn’t be happy if you stabbed me.”

  The man mutters something in Spanish, and I consider making him do more, apologize louder. But instead I loosen my grip. He yanks his hand away and storms off, elbowing his way through the crowd.

  “Wow, you sure are good with your hands,” she says, her eyes still wide and her breathing still fast, but she’s smiling. The scene drew a small crowd, and they’re still looking, but everything other than her face is pretty damn hazy.

  “Yeah, well, it’s all just basic training,” I say my voice all firm and manly, the way it’s supposed to be at a time like this. “Can’t have knives pointed at me, or stand by while pretty girls get harassed.”

  She smiles a little more, her eyes narrowing again with that desire-filled look again.

  “Thank you for saving me,” she says, running her hand over my forearm and up my bicep. My dick was half hard when I noticed her, and now it’s all the way there. “You can buy me a drink now.”

  She smiles wryly as she says it, her eyes bubbling like the sea right before a storm hits. Get it together, Brett. She’s off limits.

  I wave the bartender over, trying to think of nasty things to get my hard on back under control. But nothing’s working, and I’m standing so close I can smell her skin, the perfume she’s wearing not quite masking the scent that’s just her. Clean and fresh. Like flowers in the morning. If anything, my dic
k’s now even harder and the bartender is giving me an annoyed look, since I called him over and am now making him wait.

  She wants a tequila sunrise, and I get a whiskey for myself.

  Maybe that’ll take the edge off. Though I doubt it. Nothing but her naked in my bed will do that. But she’s off limits.

  “Do you know who I am?” I ask and her eyes narrow for a second, before she smiles even wider.

  “No, but I’d like to,” she says, running her hand over my arm again. She knows exactly what that’s doing to me, I can see it in her eyes.

  Seems she never got that message from Tommy to expect me. Given that she’s avoiding his calls, she probably won’t be happy to know he sent me. Won’t be smiling at me quite this invitingly after I tell her. So maybe I’ll wait a little longer before I do. Just to see where this goes. It’s not like I’m taking advantage, she’s practically throwing herself at me.

  “So, what’s your name?” I ask, since if I’m pretending, I might as well do it right.

  She motions for me to lean closer.

  “Samantha,” she whispers into my ear, her breath tickling, feeling like she kissed me, making my dick swell some more in my jeans. Up close, she smells like a whole field of flowers in spring, when everything is new and fresh and full of possibilities, full of life.

  She looked gorgeous in the photos, but they didn’t do her justice at all. She’s seductive as hell, and everything about her just oozes sex appeal. From her dreamy eyes, to her full lips, firm breasts and the dress she’s wearing that doesn’t look cheap on her, even though it’s short and skin tight and barely covers her. She knows all that. Knows the effect she’s having on me. And she wants me to fuck her. I don’t think I can resist her. And I’m not even gonna try to. I want her like I don’t remember wanting a woman, and I can’t hold myself back. It’s impossible. That fact gets even clearer as she slides her hand down my arm again, asking for my name.