Mercenary And His Outlaw: Twisted Iron MC

by Liberty Parker

  4

  Outlaw

  I can’t move and my legs feel like jelly as I lay here attempting to catch my breath. Never in my life have I been taken like that. As he pulls himself out of me, I nearly moan at the loss. He was in such control that I allowed myself to let go and let him lead me. I’ve never trusted anyone to do that before and now I’m questioning why I granted him such permission without protest. I’m not that girl. I’m usually the one in control of everything. Maybe my kidnapping has rattled me more than I thought? Only that doesn’t seem right either. Other than being taken in the dead of night, I wasn’t necessarily traumatized...more annoyed than anything.

  “Gotta get rid of the condom,” he says, leaving me there feeling like a pile of mush.

  “Yeah, you do that,” I manage to finally stutter out between pants. Hearing the shower turn on, I manage to lift my sore body. I feel like I’ve been working out for hours instead of having the life fucked out of me. Crawling off the bed, I pick up the discarded shirt that he went out and got before he took and owned my body. “Mmm,” I groan out, as my legs begin to move. I can still feel him inside of me. Pounding into me. Taking me places no one has ever been able to take me. How many times did I come? I count myself lucky if I get off even once without taking care of it myself when the deed is done. “Wow, ow, ow, ow,” I whisper as I bend over and pick up the shirt. “Fucking hell, I’ll be feeling this for days.”

  “What was that?” I hear asked behind me and nearly jump out of my skin.

  “Asshole! Warn a girl before you sneak up behind her! That was...well, it was rude.”

  “Never claimed to be a nice guy. We’ve been over this. We need to catch some shut eye because we’re leaving here at 0300 hours.”

  “Um, and when exactly is that? I only speak English and am not familiar with military time. Or whatever that is.” I follow him with my eyes as he walks around me.

  He looks at his watch and responds, “Six hours from now.” Well, guess we’re all talked out for the evening. Walking over to the pizza box, which is now cold, I grab two pieces. My stomach rumbles and before I even make it to the bed, I have shoved half of it into my mouth. I watch as he grabs the box and comes to sit down next to me.

  “What are you doing?” I eye him then look at the pillow and blanket on the floor where he’s supposed to bedding down tonight.

  “I fucked ya, so that floor,” he states, pointing at it, “is null and void. If I’m good enough to stick my dick in you, I’m good enough to sleep next to.”

  “Two totally different things. I need my beauty rest and I can’t very well get that sleeping next to the beast,” I snap at him.

  Unfazed, he continues to shove pizza into his mouth as he speaks. Nomad or not, he’s definitely a biker or has at least lived an extremely similar lifestyle. He just gives off that vibe. “Maybe to you, but I’ve changed my mind. You want one of us down there, then by all means, be my guest.”

  “Gentleman my ass.”

  “Never…” he begins, but I’m quick to stifle what he’s about to say.

  “Yeah, yeah.” I stop his words from leaving him. Waving my hand in the air, I finish his sentence for him, “Never said you were a gentleman. I get it.” You could hear a cricket chirp in the room as silent as it has suddenly gotten. It’s uncomfortable and the tension is thick. Damn, the sooner I get home and away from him, the better off we’ll both be. I can’t seem to keep my head right around him.

  I feel the bed move around and rustling of the blankets and pillows before the room becomes dark. “Night,” he mutters.

  “Eh, night.” I leave out asshole even though it’s on the tip of my tongue. I slam back down on my pillow, releasing a pent-up breath. The next couple of days stuck with him are going to be disastrous, I can feel it in my gut.

  Okay, I am not a morning person as Mercenary just found out. I awoke to being shaken and there was this annoying voice trying to rouse me from a deep sleep. I did what I always do when someone wakes me, I get up swinging. “I’m so sorry,” I apologize again, wincing at the amount of blood that’s collected on the toilet paper he’s using to apply pressure to his nose. “I am not lucid first thing in the morning and don’t take well to having my brain rattled around in my head from all the shaking. I have to wake on my own terms.” Probably should’ve warned him I’m not much of a morning person. But in my defense, that was the last thing on my mind as I fell asleep last night.

  I didn’t sleep well. He kept using me as a mattress and I’m not used to sleeping with anyone in the same bed as me. I lift up the cup of coffee that he’d prepared me before waking me up and take a sip of the now lukewarm caffeinated drink that my body requires to function. Not having anything on me to give as a peace offering, I go and wet a washrag. As I walk back out and make it to him, he eyes me out the corner of his squinting, extremely wary eyes. “It was an accident,” I huff out in frustration, throwing my hands in the air, accidentally hitting his hand that’s holding the tissue. “Oops,” I mutter. What a mess I am. I feel the warmth of a blush creep up my cheeks. Way to go, Harmony. Just keep injuring the man who risked his life to save yours.

  “Fuck!” he howls out. “Stop trying to help and sit the fuck down. Please.” Glaring back at him, I do as instructed. He isn’t wrong, but I don’t like not being right or told what to do. I take my coffee and grimace, it seems to get colder by the minute. Not knowing what to say to break the tension, I choose to keep quiet and watch him as he attempts to slow the blood flow. I’ve already inflicted enough damage in a short amount of time.

  “We’re late now. We need to make up time.” He pulls the tissue away and wipes his face with the rag. “The bike is gassed up and ready to go. Do you need to do anything before we hit the road?” I do a mental checklist. Since I don’t have any belongings and have already used the facilities, I shake my head letting him know I’m good to go. “Then let’s go, we’ll stop for lunch around noon.” He stands up and stretches. Watching as his muscles flex stirs up butterflies that begin to flutter around in my belly. Momentarily lost in thought as I visually drink him in has me wishing for another chance to experience what he gave me last night. He turns around and looks at me, pulling me from my fantasy before grumbling out, “Woman, you could drive a sane man into the nuthouse.” Abruptly he turns on his heel and stomps out the door. “Coming?” he voices over his shoulder.

  “Not yet, but hopefully tonight,” I reply teasing him and attempting to make light of the accidental wounds I’ve inflicted. But, in all honesty, there is truth to my statement. The way our bodies fit so perfectly together still has me soaring high. Nothing about our encounter was soft or easy. But the way he played my body like a finely tuned instrument was as if we’d been doing this for years. And now, it’s all I can think about.

  He stops dead in his tracks before turning and looking at me. “Not if we don’t make up on the time we’ve already lost.” That wasn’t a no so I jump up, toss my coffee in the trash and follow him out the door.

  Mercenary

  We’ve been on the road for a couple of hours when I notice a dark sedan and SUV following us. To confirm my suspicions, I make a left turn onto a dirt road and notice that they follow the same path. “Motherfucker,” I say low to myself. How the hell did they track us? I’ve been careful. I even had it mapped out prior with several backup plans to choose from. Purposely, I chose a path I handcrafted, staying off the beaten path taking all of the backroads and the long way to the Twisted Iron’s clubhouse. Which is why it will take us days to get there as opposed to the one it should. “Hold on tight,” I holler out to her and feel her grip my waist tighter.

  “I see them, give me a gun!” she screams back at me. Knowing that she’s Rogue’s daughter and positive that thanks to the MC lifestyle, she’s got to be a damn good marksman, I don’t second guess her request and pull my spare. Handing it to her she shouts at me, “You drive and I’ll shoot.” Nodding to let her know I’ve heard her I push my bike to its
limits. My bike wheels skid in the dirt and twist us right and then left, but I gain control. I look in my side mirror and notice that they are gaining speed and catching up to us. Confused as to why she hasn’t shot yet, I look back at her and notice she’s pulling her hair back and tucking it into her shirt.

  “What the fuck are you doing? Shoot, dammit!” She rolls her eyes at me before wrapping her long legs around my waist and lays back on the seat. “The fuck?” She’s one crazy bitch! I can see now why her dad gave her the road name Outlaw. She may have been born a woman, but she has steel balls that rival most men I know. Let’s just hope I’m right and her aim is a kill shot. I’m having a hard time figuring out which I want to pay more attention to. Her, or the road.

  I hear several ear-piercing pops go off, then an explosion. The heat feels like it’s scorching my back and I need to check on her. Grabbing her legs with my left hand, I come to a stop. The SUV is having a hard time making it around the sedan that’s now wrapped in a ball of flames. I turn the bike around and she lifts up and flattens her chest to my back. Pointing the gun over my shoulder, she aims it at two men exiting the SUV. “How the hell did you hit the gas tank?” Quickly I retrieve the gun from the holster I have wrapped around my ankle just above my boot.

  “I wasn’t aiming for it, honestly. Luck, I suppose! Burn, bastards, burn!” She laughs maniacally, catching me off guard. “Serves you right, motherfuckers!” I didn’t realize she was so bloodthirsty. Not sure if they heard her, or sensed her, but two of them turn and look at us. I can see the devil in their eyes and know without a shadow of a doubt we have to end them. Otherwise, they’ll just keep following us and attempt to kill us both, or just me so that they can get her back in their clutches. Not happening. Not on my watch, and not with me being her hired hitman and rescuer. My first job is always to collect my target and deliver them back unharmed. Sometimes that requires me to kill the captors, but if I don’t have to, I’d rather just do my job so I can move onto the next. Other jobs are specifically a mission to kill. This one was more of a search and rescue type. Although, I will be coming back after Marx. It’s personal.

  “Get ready, there are going to be bullets flying everywhere, but we need to take every single one of them out,” I voice my concern to her loudly.

  “Agreed,” I hear her reply. We both check the ammunition in our magazines, and I gun my bike. The men lift their weapons ready to take us out, but it’s not going to go down the way they’re hoping. Not today.

  As we get closer, I feel and hear the tiny missiles whiz past me, before I hear her scream out. Unable to stop my pursuit and check on her in this moment, I have to keep going. We’ll never make it out of this alive if I have to stop and render aid. Concerned, I holler out, “Are you hit?”

  “It’s just a graze! Keep going!” We’re both in the zone and I take out one as he rounds the front of the car. It’s a dead shot that hits him perfectly between the eyes. As if I’m watching it all play out in slow motion, I follow his body with my eyes as he falls down the front of the vehicle, landing on the ground. One down, and only one more to go.

  “I’ve got the other one!” she calls out, and I quickly shift my eyes to make sure she doesn’t need any assistance with her target.

  The man raises his gun and so do I. Simultaneously, shots ring out and it doesn’t take me long to realize Outlaw delivered him a fatal chest shot. He clutches his chest as the blood creeps out around his hand, soaking his shirt as his body goes limp and lifeless before us. My arm begins to burn as if someone has a lit fire poker held to my flesh. I know I’ve taken his stray bullet. It’s not the first and probably won’t be my last. “Fuck that hurts,” I grumble through gritted teeth. Pissed the hell off, I lift my body from the bike and march my way toward the son-of-a-bitch. I can feel her stomping behind me. Once I’m standing over the bastard, I empty what's left of my magazine into his sorry ass. “That’s for slowing us down, motherfucker. Rest in hell,” I growl out in agony and frustration as I feel blood dripping down my shoulder, soaking the material of my shirt.

  Standing out in the open we’re still vulnerable. We need to find some sort of shelter to be sure we don’t have any more unwanted company. I grab her hand and pull her toward the cover of trees. Once we’re under the shelter of a tree, I notice blood dripping down her arm. She’s right it’s just a graze, but it needs to be taken care of once I’m sure we’re out of danger. Looks like we won’t be taking our time getting back to the Twisted Iron MC clubhouse. We’re both in need of medical attention and hospitals are out of the question.

  “You’re hit,” she advises me of something I’m fully aware of but trying to forget for the time being. Raising my index finger, I cover my mouth and she lowers her body, looking in the direction my eyes have shifted to. Maybe I’m being paranoid, but I thought I heard the faint sound of leaves crunching beneath feet. Abruptly grabbing her wrist, I quietly pull her deeper behind the cover of the woods.

  Suddenly, I spot another man as he hastily retreats back behind the shelter of the SUV door. Fucking pussy. He had better odds with the element of surprise earlier. Now, he doesn’t stand a chance. “I’m not asking, I’m telling you, okay? Don’t try to be a hero. Stay down. I’ve got this one,” I let her know and she nods as I quickly drop the empty magazine and reload with a full one. Thank fuck she’s not putting up an argument for once. Shots ring out before I have the chance to aim my gun. He misses us but manages to hit everything around us. This guy’s aim is shit. This asshole needs to join his friends in hell sooner rather than later. Leaning my head around the tree, I see that I have a clear shot. He’s not out in the open, but every time he raises his head above the door he’s hiding behind, he’s an easy target. Aiming my gun for his next pop-up, I steady my arm and fire the second I notice the top of his head begin to peek out. Hitting him on the side of his forehead my bullet splits his head wide open, exposing blood and gore.

  I feel her raise her head and look up. “It’s raining brain matter.” I could swear that’s glee I hear in her voice. “Let’s get out of here before more of his sidekicks show up. Not sure about you, but killing five people is my limit for the day. Plus, this graze hurts like a bitch and I need to stop the bleeding.”

  “I’ve got some stuff to clean that up and some gauze and shit to wrap it with.” Walking back to the bike I’m pissed when I see it didn’t come out unscathed. There are scratches all along the gas tank. There’s a hole in my saddle bag and something leaking from it. Opening up the flap I see its motor oil I keep in case of emergencies.

  “That’s gonna be a bitch to clean.” Hanging my head in annoyance, I do my best not to take my anger out on her obvious observation.

  “Fuck yes, it is,” I manage to reply with little frustration evident in my tone. Reaching into my other saddlebag I pull out my first aid kit. Placing it on my seat, I begin pulling out disinfectant, antibacterial cream, gauze and tape. “Here, let’s get your arm cleaned and wrapped so we can get the fuck out of here.” I reach for her arm, but she pulls it away from me. Dammit this woman is purposely testing the levels of my patience.

  “I can do it so you can do your own.” She points at my injury. “Hey, we have matching battle wounds.” She looks up at me with amusement in her eyes as a grin forms on her pretty lips. Sure enough, they are located on the same arm.

  “Oh good, we can be twinsies!” I reply in a purposely sarcastic attempt to mimic her enthusiasm. I’m just in a foul mood after being found. I took precautions, how the fuck did they track us down so fucking fast? It’s plaguing my mind and driving me to the point of insanity. Not to mention Rogue’s gonna be pissed his little princess was injured during my care. Hey, he warned me, but he also signed a clause stating I am not responsible for any harm that may potentially come to her during my rescue mission. I make all my clients sign that shit. This is a business, and why most only trust and come to me for such missions. It’s what I do, and my reputation precedes me. I’m the best in the hit for hire
world. Sometimes doing the occasional rescue mission such as this. I’ve worked for Rogue and the Twisted Iron MC in the past.

  “Are we bonding now?” she questions, taking the disinfectant spray as she begins cleaning her wound. “I mean, I’ve never been an active participant in a shoot-out before.”

  Oh hell. Fuck me. Is she going into an adrenaline drop? That could be disastrous and also help explain why she’s talking so much. “You alright?” I inquire, realizing I’ve just had another ‘first’ with Rogue’s only child. The sex wasn’t either of our first times, but if Rogue ever found out, I might just have an entire group of severely sick and twisted individuals after me. They aren’t called Twisted Iron MC because they’re all fucking normal in the head. And, now she’s not only been involved in her first shoot-out, but she’s wounded. Again, none of which is any fault of mine, but I’m not sure Rogue will see it that way.

  “Sure, I mean it hurts and all, but it’s not too terribly bad,” she replies, shrugging her shoulders, as she continues bandaging her arm. “Are you almost done? I’d really like to get home now.”

  As if she’s the only one ready for this nightmarish ordeal to be over? I can’t help but shake my head. “Almost done,” I respond, adding tape to the gauze never making eye contact with her. After we’re both bandaged, I put the supplies away and we get back on the road.

  5

  Outlaw