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

by Lena Bourne

  I smile at him and drive off, resisting the urge to floor it. But my heart rate doesn’t go back to normal until the border crossing is so far behind us, I can’t see it in my rearview mirror anymore.

  I get off the highway and follow the signs to the city center, eventually spotting some that lead to the hospital. Exiting the car in the sunbaked parking lot in front of the ER feels like I’ve stepped too close to a fire.

  I get in the back with Brett, start shaking him awake and calling his name softly. But that doesn’t work. So I shake him harder, have to repeat it a few times, before his eyes finally open.

  He smiles a little as he sees me, then his eyes narrow as he takes in the surroundings. There’s no missing the huge white building we’re parked in front of, or the fact that we’re no longer in Mexico.

  “Where are we?” he asks, groaning as he rights himself on the seat to get a better look.

  “Arizona,” I say. “At a hospital. You need a doctor.”

  “What the fuck? Didn’t I tell you I can’t just come back to the US?” he says, the vein in his neck large and pulsing. He shouldn’t be getting this riled up. It can’t be good for him. And I think he’s actually a lot angrier than he’s showing. “How’d you even get me across the border?”

  I lean against the front seat and snatch his Veteran’s ID off the passenger seat, my hand shaking as I show it to him. “I found this in your wallet.”

  He looks at it, then at me, his face softening a little. “That shit’s probably been revoked. If they checked…”

  “But they didn’t,” I say more firmly. “Now let’s inside. You can yell at me some more after they’ve patched you up.”

  “No, Sam,” he says firmly. “I’m alright, and they have to report all gunshot wounds. We should’ve stayed in Mexico. Or gone anywhere, but fucking Arizona. I’m wanted in Arizona.”

  My hand flies to my mouth. “I thought it was California.”

  He shakes his head, grimacing at me. “Nope. It’s Arizona. I guess I should’ve been clear on that.”

  “But it’ll be fine, we’re here now. They don’t have to know it was a gunshot wound,” I protest. “And we’re not going back to Mexico. They’re after us there, remember?”

  His face hardens again, the rage there a very cold thing right now, exactly how it was when that sick Mexican gangster made me serve him coffee. “I can take care of that. If I take out The Henchman, then the rest of them will kill each other trying to take over his operation.”

  He can’t be serious. Why is he so eager to die?

  “How, Brett?” I ask. “You’ve been shot. You lost about a gallon of blood. How are you gonna assassinate a cartel boss?”

  “I’d be dead if I lost a gallon of blood,” he counters, and I know he meant it as a sarcastic comeback, but the thought of him dying pierces me with the pain of getting stabbed. “Besides, you in that outfit proves I have some blood left.” He adjusts the bulge in his pants as he says it, his desire for me suddenly a palpable thing sitting in the car with us.

  This might not be a great time, but I have more to say to him. A lot more. I have things to say that I’ve never said to a man before, and I don’t even know if I can say them. But I’m gonna try. I turn to him and take one of his hands in both of mine. His skin’s hot like he’s running a fever, and clammy, but that could just be my own sweaty palms.

  He’s squinting at me like he has no idea what’s going on now, but my eyes are fixed so firmly on his he has no hope of looking away. Nor does he try.

  “I…I…” I’m stammering, that’s what I’m doing. And I should stop. “I love you, Brett, so very much, more than I ever loved anyone or anything. And I won’t let anything happen to you, not if I can stop it. And I can stop it, so just trust me, OK? I’ll call my dad now, and he’ll arrange it all so no one comes to arrest you, OK? He’ll also send the bodyguards, and they’ll protect us both so that no one comes shooting at us again. I can do that, so just let me. Because…because…”

  “You love me?” he finishes my sentence, smirking as he runs his free hand over my cheek.

  “Yes,” I say, leaning my face into his palm. “I should’ve told you when you first said it, back in your apartment, and I’m so sorry I didn’t, and then all that horrible stuff happened, and I thought I’d never get the chance to and that…that was the scariest part of last night. So you have to go see a doctor now. Because I won’t lose you. I can’t.”

  He glides his thumb over my lips, keeps it there to make me stop talking, because, yeah, I am rambling. Then he leans in and kisses me, and even though we spent last night in the rough, he still tastes like the best thing that ever crossed my lips. The surge of life, of love, of wild passion and freedom the kiss brings almost makes me reconsider all about this hospital visit, makes me want to take him to some vast plain in the middle of nowhere with nothing and no one to disturb us.

  “I love you too, Samantha,” he says, inching away from the kiss. “And I’m grateful that you’re trying to take care of me like this, but there’s no need. I can take care of myself. And I most definitely do not need the protection of a bunch of pansy ass Hollywood bodyguards. And neither do you, not as long as I’m standing.”

  “How long will that be, if you don’t get your wounds checked out?” I counter.

  He chuckles at that. “But I have you to patch me up, right?”

  He will, always, but… ”What if I can’t?”

  “Fine, fine, but we’ll be in and out,” he finally agrees. “All I need is a new bandage and maybe some antibiotics. And we’re not showing any IDs.”

  I haven’t called my dad or Randy, the head of the bodyguards watching over me and my ex of sorts, yet, but I plan to do it as soon as Brett goes in to see a doctor.

  I did text Randy already, while I stopped to change my clothes by the side of the road, because as I watched Brett sleeping I finally understood what it means to lose someone you care for. Someone you love. Randy’s sent a bunch of texts since I left, accusing me of breaking his heart. And I didn’t understand how he could even be serious about that, until I realized I could never live without Brett. Or get over him leaving me. So I sent him a text apologizing again for leading him on. And he said he understood, that I can still count on him.

  And I mean to. No matter what Brett says he wants. There’s being macho, and then there’s stupid. And what he just said, about me not needing a bodyguard as long as he’s with me, though a total turn on, falls more in the latter category.

  Inside the hospital, the admitting nurse takes one look at the mess that is the large burn on his side and the huge bloodstain on his jeans, gives us both a wide eyed, shocked stare, and ushers him through the doors leading into the ER proper. She won’t let me go with him, which is just as well, because I have some phone calls to make.

  “Hello, Dad,” I say as he picks up, the lump in my throat growing up into my mouth, making it hard to speak. This is the phone call I wanted to make the least. “It’s me, Sam.”

  “Samantha, where the hell are you? You can’t just disappear like that!” he says, and I don’t hear a lot of concern in his voice. At least not for me. He’s likely just concerned for himself over the threats Tommy made, if he failed to keep me safe. I can’t believe I’m actually sad realizing this. He never cared for me.

  “I’m fine,” I mutter, though that’s not really what he asked.

  “I got a call from some Mexican detective that you were abducted again,” he says breathlessly. “Is that why you’re calling? Do they want ransom? That’s what the detective warned me would happen. How much do they want? I’ll pay.”

  At least he’s good for something. Paying for things.

  “No need. Someone freed me. A man,” I say. “And now we need your help to stay hidden.”

  “What?” he asks, his voice slow and drawn out.

  “I am with the man who saved me, and we need your protection so that the cops won’t find us,” I explain again.

 
“What are you talking about, Samantha? You’re supposed to testify at that trial not hide from the cops. What kind of mess are you in now?”

  “I’m about to lose the only man I ever cared for, that’s the kind of mess I’m in!” I yell, causing the guy sitting next to me with his elderly mother to glare at me in fright. She doesn’t notice a thing, doesn’t even flinch. I stand up and move away from the benches to the windows.

  “And I’m asking you, the one man I’d rather not even talk to ever again for help,” I continue more quietly, though with no less venom in my voice. I can’t stand my father. I hate him and I fear him, but I’ve also always tried to get his attention, maybe because I was looking for that fatherly care he never gave me as a child. That’s probably why I’m acting out all the time. But this is the last favor I will ask of him. It’s also the only thing he can give me that I actually want.

  “What do you want me to do?” he asks more complacently.

  “Send my bodyguards to come pick us up and then we’ll talk,” I say. “We’re in Sacred Heart Hospital in San Carlos, Arizona. And do it quickly.”

  “Fine, fine, they’ll be there,” Dad says. “Just don’t get into any more trouble in the meantime. You’ve put me through enough.”

  Yeah, right! It’s still not nearly as much as he’s put me through.

  I hang up then dial Randy’s number, since he should hear about the situation from me and not just be surprised by it.

  “Who are you calling?” Brett asks, staring at me very pointedly.

  I hear Randy answer the phone, but I hang up anyway. I could lie about who I was calling. But he’ll see right through that, and I’ll have a hard enough time convincing him to accept my dad’s protection without lying to him now.

  “They said you can leave?” I ask, dodging his question. He’s pale under his tan, his eyes glassy and matte, the whites yellow. He’s still wearing his blood stained jeans and the white t-shirt I got him, which despite being the largest they had is not long enough to cover the blood stain on his jeans. He’s so big and so strong and so brave and he’s all mine, and I just want him to get better now.

  “I checked myself out. Let’s go.” He takes my hand, and the touch sends a blistering torrent of arousal all through my body. All I want to do is kiss him, hold him, be held by him. This pull on me that he has is incredible, and it’s only intensifying with each day we spend together. Is it the same for him?

  He pulls me along so fast that I’m tripping over my flip-flops. “Don’t we need to pay them? Where are we going?”

  The door slides open and then he’s leading me across the scorching parking lot to my car. “I didn’t tell them my name and left when no one was looking. They gave me a new bandage, a painkiller, and some antibiotics. It should be fine for now.”

  I stop dead, or try to, since all I achieve is getting jerked forward by him and almost falling.

  He stops and releases my hand, rights me, his hands lingering on my hips.

  “You need to stay in the hospital,” I murmur, sounding very pitiful.

  “We’ll hide out at my mom’s. She used to be a nurse, she can change these dressings just fine. But right now, we’re getting a motel room. I need a shower and some real sleep. And you do too.”

  “I called my dad and asked him to send the bodyguards to come and get us,” I blurt out.

  His eyes turn very sharp, his whole face seeming like it’s cut from stone. “I told you not to do that, Sam. And it’s all the more reason to get the fuck outta here. You’ll call him back and cancel the whole thing.”

  There’s really no arguing with him on this, I realize as I stare into his eyes, which look like stones right now. There never is, when he makes up his mind about something. I noticed that before, but am only really realizing it right now. So I let him lead me to the car, don’t argue when he wants to drive. I still have his phone though. I’ll make more calls when he’s asleep. I understand where he’s coming from, I really do, and it pains me to go against his wishes like this. But I will spend the rest of my life making it up to him for this transgression, and I’ll start just as soon as we’re safe.

  Chapter Eighteen

  BRETT

  I shouldn’t be in the country. Sam thinks she did me a favor, and she certainly did it out of love, but she’s wrong. I couldn’t get too mad at her though, and I definitely can’t stay mad at her. But I’ll never accept any help from her pedophile father. Sick fucks like that shouldn’t walk the earth, and I will kill him if I ever see him. I’d tell her all that in no uncertain terms, but I don’t want to dredge all those bad memories up for her right now, since I’ve seen how hard it is for her to talk about that stuff. And I don’t want her to think I don’t appreciate what she’s trying to do for me.

  But I can take care of the both of us. That wasn’t just empty boasting. I have money hidden in the hills back home, and some stashed away at my mom’s house in Mesa. We’ll get that first, and then head up to Canada, stopping in California to get the rest. But I must have lost a serious amount of blood last night, because I’m still lightheaded and weak, and my whole body feels like it’s burning from the inside out. I hate running away like this, with my tail between my legs like a little pussy. I want to go back to Mexico and finish off all those cholo bastards. Just giving Sam those bruises on her face is reason enough for them to die. But I want Sam by my side for the rest of my days more. And I want those days to be long and many.

  I can feel the heat rising from her body even over the AC that’s on full blast. She’s not talking, just looking out her window and occasionally glancing at me like she’s checking if I’m OK. Or maybe to see if I’m still mad at her. I’m not. I scared her with my outburst before. That wasn’t my intention.

  I reach over and squeeze her thigh reassuringly. I shouldn’t have done that, because I’m getting even more lightheaded from all the blood rushing to my dick right now. “It’ll be fine, Sam, don’t worry. I’m not mad at you, but we’re gonna do this my way.”

  She takes my hand in both of hers, and nods. “So what’s the plan?”

  Telling her about Canada is on the tip of my tongue, but I stop myself from saying it. Because what if she says no?

  “First we’ll get some gas then drive up to Phoenix and get a motel room. And then I’ll call my mom.” I have less then fifty dollars in my wallet and she lost her purse, but that should be enough to get us there.

  “And after that?” she asks, just as I pull into the gas station.

  “We’ll make it work,” I say, letting go of her hand and opening my door, dodging her question completely.

  She opens her door too. “I’ll go inside and get us some food while you fill up.”

  “I only have fifty bucks,” I tell her before she steps out, and I’ve never been sorrier to be poor. Even back when I was a kid and me and my mom really were poor. “I’ll get more, but this should go for gas and the motel room. But go ahead, get a sandwich or something, if you’re hungry.”

  She looks at me with a mixture of pity and amusement in her eyes, though I think it’s mostly love. Damn it. Then she whips out a gold credit card from her pocket. “That’s fine. It’ll be my treat.”

  “Didn’t you lose your purse at the club?” I ask, and she smiles even wider.

  “Yeah, but I never keep all my money in my purse,” she says. “I learned that’s not a good idea the hard way once or twice.”

  “Smart girl,” I say and can’t help smiling at her too. Because damn it, she’s so beautiful, and so perfect, and I so want her for the rest of my life, and I wish nothing else mattered. Or rather, I hope it doesn’t.

  I lean over and kiss her, because it’s been too long since we did that.

  Someone blares their horn behind us, yelling something over it.

  “I think we’re jamming up the line,” she whispers, pulling back a little. But I don’t let her get away, kiss her again, because this is our time, could be the last of it if she won’t come with me
to Canada, could be the remainder of what we have left. The honking gets louder and more annoying, until even the softness of her lips can’t drown it out anymore.

  “Alright,” I say. “We’ll continue this later.”

  She giggles and gets out of the car. As I predicted, the honking stops abruptly as soon as the guy doing it sees me. He’s a lanky, skinny dude in a Volvo, who’s already sorry he picked my lane to get annoying in. If I didn’t just get shot twice in the last 48 hours, I’d go over there and make him even sorrier for disturbing Sam and me. But as it is, I just look at him menacingly and start pumping the gas.

  SAMANTHA

  After eating more than half of the snacks I got at the gas station, I dozed off. We’re in Phoenix now, and I’m waiting for Brett in the car while he gets some new clothes for himself at some military surplus store. I already got us all we needed by way of toothbrushes and toiletries at the gas station. I suggested we go to a mall for his clothes, that I’ll just charge them, but he wouldn’t hear of it, said he won’t have me paying for everything.

  He comes out wearing a pair of new black cargo pants and the white Mexico t-shirt, carrying a white plastic bag. Then we’re driving through the poorest part of any town I’ve ever seen, with potholes the size of craters in the asphalt, and patches of dried, almost white soil where grass is supposed to grow. I’m not even sure how most of the houses we pass are still standing, given they are literally falling apart already. But there are people on the porches, kids playing in those white patches of soil, and flags hanging limp. If it weren’t for the flags, I’d be sure we were still in rural Mexico.

  “Is this where your mom lives?” I ask.

  He chuckles, but it’s a cold sound. “No, she lives in some new development in Mesa. This is just where we’re spending the night.”

  He pulls into the parking lot of what looks like an abandoned motel. Or it would look like that, if there weren’t at least ten cars parked in front of it already. There are also a few women, wearing very little clothing and very high heels walking around the parking lot, which is so overgrown with weeds, you can hardly see the gravel anymore. The weeds come up to the doors of most of the rooms too.