Wanted: An Outlaw Anthology

by Lane Hart

  His jaw ticked.

  The slight movement in his otherwise stillness brought me up short. “You sayin’ you came from there?”

  He didn’t nod, but he didn’t shake his head.

  “Well, I’ll be.” I sat back on my haunches and swatted at a mosquito as I dragged my eyes over his body. “You look pretty fit for a homeless person.” I’d heard the rumors that homeless people lived off the land in the glades, but I’d never met one.

  “Leave,” he said again, but this time quieter.

  Despite the eighty-degree weather and humidity I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy, chill bumps ran up my back and curled around my neck. “Now see, I can’t do that.” I tested a smile on him. “Would you leave me here if you found me in your condition?”

  Without hesitation, and with a dead seriousness that chilled me to my very bones, he laid four words on me.

  “I would bury you.”

  Chapter Three

  Tarquin

  Moonlight shone on her hair. It was not blonde, but it was not red. Somewhere in between. I had never seen hair that color.

  “Charming,” she muttered, seemingly unfazed by my admission.

  My energy waning, I tried one more time. “Leave. You do not belong out here.” I did not know how many sunrises had passed since I had been thrown off the compound, or how far I had made it. I had been left for dead far outside the main gate, but if any of the hunters happened across me, I would have a bullet in my skull as fast as they could pull the trigger of their rifle. And with her looks, she would be dragged back to the compound.

  The thought made anger spur.

  Making a derisive sound no woman on the compound would ever get away with, she rolled her eyes at me. “If I don’t belong on my own land, mister, then it’s about as sad a day as it’s ever gonna get, because I sure as hell don’t fit right out there in the real world.” She waved her hand dismissively behind her.

  My pain momentarily forgotten, alarm spread. “Real world?” I felt for my knife, wondering if there was more than one compound in the area.

  “Yeah.” She half smiled, half frowned at me. “Life, boys, girls, normal kids goin’ to college, bikers, clubs, parties—real world,” she said plainly, as if it were obvious.

  The only word I knew of in her rattled-off list was college. No textbook had ever touched my hands, and I intended to keep it that way, but I knew of what she spoke. “There is no compound on your land?”

  Her head tilted and her hair caught the moonlight. “Come again?”

  “Compound,” I repeated, air wheezing in my lungs.

  Her laugh was more ironic than humor. “You must’ve hit your head somethin’ good. The closest thing to a compound out here is when Daddy hosts the summer barbeque and the whole club descends for a drunken weekend filled with more fightin’ than prayin’ at Sunday worship.”

  My jaw tightened at her last word.

  “I see that’s about as appealin’ to you as it is me.” She tugged on my arm. “Come on, let’s get you cleaned up and in better light, then I can see what I can do about tendin’ to your…” She waved her free hand again. “All of this.”

  No female was going to tend to me. I jerked my arm away. “I said leave.”

  “Fine.” She slapped her hands on her thighs as if she were frustrated. “If your sorry, pathetic butt wants to rot here all on your own, be my guest.” She moved to stand, but then paused to point a finger at me. “But don’t think for one second, I’m gonna let—”

  I grabbed her hair and yanked.

  She fell back with a yowl and landed in the mud.

  Ignoring the pain, I loomed over her as much as I could in a sitting position. “Watch your mouth, or next time you won’t be walking away from me.”

  “Watch my mouth?” She kicked me in the shin. “You dirty, rotten, piece of—”

  I pulled her hair hard.

  “Ow!” Her hands went to my forearm as her leg shot out.

  I barely avoided another kick. “Do it,” I warned. “Kick me. See what will happen.” I had enough fight in me. I could take a female.

  Her fingernails sinking into my flesh, she didn’t hesitate. Her boot slammed into my knee.

  Pain exploded and I grunted, but I did not let go of her hair. Shaking my head, breathing shallow, something came over me. “Is that the best you can do?”

  One second she was pulling on my arm, the next, the fury of hell unleashed and she was everywhere.

  Her leg swung over me, she straddled my waist, and her arms started flying. Her head bent, her hair caught in my punishing grip, she rained down blow after blow wherever she could reach.

  My ribs, my chest, my thighs.

  She hit. She kicked. She spit.

  Desire surged.

  Diabolical desire.

  “That’s it, sister.” Swamp mud covering my face, the corner of my mouth twitched. “Hit me like you mean it.” I thrust my hips.

  Sucking in a sharp breath, I knew the exact moment she felt me between her legs.

  “Do you like that?” I leered. “Do you need a man to tend to you?” I had never let any female ride me, and I was not going to start now. Vanquished, left for dead, and covered in rot, I still had my pride. “Is this how you think you are going to get it?”

  “Let go!” She punched me in the ribs.

  Air whooshed out of my lungs, and I grunted out a demand. “Take your clothes off.” Beyond pain, desire made my erection throb. “Spread your legs.” I would put my mud-caked mouth on her womanhood. “I will show you exactly how a man tends a female.”

  “You sick son of a bitch!” Her palm jammed into my wounded shoulder.

  A wail, hers, mine, shot through the night as my hand jerked, and I pulled her hair hard enough to snap her neck.

  I fell back, she landed on top of me, and my grip released.

  Fury etched across her face, she glared down at me.

  Suffocating in pain, I locked my expression and stared back.

  Her hand fisted as she pulled her arm back.

  I saw what was coming. “Do it.” I had not survived River Ranch only to be taken out by a female. “Hit me as hard as you can, woman.”

  “My name’s not woman!” Her fist sailed through the thick air. “It’s Shaila!”

  The crack of flesh connecting with flesh sounded a split second before my head snapped back. Fresh blood filled my mouth, and I sputtered before everything went black.

  Chapter Four

  Shaila

  Grunting, using all the strength in my arms, I wedged my boots in the mud and shoved. His stupidly big body rolled up a few inches.

  It was enough.

  I toed the piece of cardboard under him and let go.

  He flopped back to the ground, landing mostly on my handiwork.

  “You dumb shit, motherfucker.” Out of breath, I kicked him. “And that’s for making me swear. Real ladies don’t cuss like a sailor.” I brushed my hands off on my ruined skirt. “First you wreck my favorite jean skirt, and now I gotta drag you clear across the swamp.” I bent and grabbed two ends of the flattened box I was using as a makeshift gurney and pulled as hard as I could. He moved three whole inches. “Damn. You shoulda died. A shovel is easier than this shit.”

  He didn’t reply.

  He couldn’t.

  He was out cold, and from the looks of him, probably staying that way.

  “Fine.” I spit out the taste of swamp. “Don’t say anythin’. I don’t care,” I lied, feeling marginally guilty for punching him out. But that punch had cost me one set of swollen knuckles, so as far as I was concerned, we were even.

  Panting, gripping the cardboard, I pulled two more times. The third tug, I hit a patch of weed grass and he slid a whole foot.

  I let out a little whoop of victory. “Now that’s what I’m talking about.”

  “Shaila?”

  “Shit,” I whispered, freezing in my tracks before calling over my shoulder. “Yeah, Mama?” What the he
ck was she doing up?

  “Where are you, sweetheart?”

  Damn, damn, damn. “Just out past the yard.” I flicked the flashlight in my pocket off. “Thought I heard a baby deer cryin’ when I took the garbage out,” I lied. It wasn’t a deer. It was a man cursing up a storm, and I wasn’t just taking the trash out. I was hiding supplies in the garage.

  “Well, leave it be and come back in. It’s too dark and too buggy out there. You’ll get eaten alive.”

  I smirked. “Just a few more minutes, Mama. Go on in, I’ll be back soon.”

  “Okay,” she relented. She hated the woods around the property more than she hated living where we did. “But make it quick. Your daddy will be here soon.”

  Shit. “He’s not coming this week.” He said so last week when he’d made his routine Sunday stop to look in on me and Mama.

  “He just called, said he’s coming tonight instead of tomorrow.”

  Well, damn. “Be back in a sec!” I hollered, tugging again on the cardboard. “Go in before you get bit up!”

  No wind to speak of, sound carried across the swamp, and I heard the back door shut.

  “Okay, mister, let’s do this.” I needed to get him out of the way before Daddy saw him. Daddy said he kept me and Mama out here so we could live in peace and keep an eye on his property, but he was lying. Mama couldn’t be trusted around the club, and Daddy was keeping me away from the bikers in his MC until I turned eighteen. He’d told Mama last year he was gonna trade me up.

  I wasn’t no book scholar, but I wasn’t stupid neither.

  I knew what that meant.

  He was gonna auction me to whichever dirty biker’d pay the most for the club president’s virgin daughter.

  But I wasn’t gonna let that happen.

  A few more paychecks from the gas station down the street where I worked, and a few more stolen supplies, and I’d have enough to escape and hold me over for a year, maybe two, until I figured out what to do next. Not that I wanted to leave Mama, but what loyalty did I owe a woman who’d brought me up in an MC clubhouse while she was busy spreading her legs and getting high until she took it too far?

  Now we were out in the middle of a swamp, and she lived her entire life for one hour a week when Daddy would come by, pretend to be her faithful lover, then disappear after she serviced him. She didn’t care about him selling me off as long as he kept coming to give her the new kinda fix she’d traded for her old one.

  I suspected that after I turned eighteen, Daddy wouldn’t need Mama anymore. But just in case, I wasn’t gonna rock the boat before I had to. So here I was, dragging a half-dead man to our garage because I didn’t want to cause no trouble with Daddy.

  But as I looked down at the blond-haired man with more muscle than sense to not get beat all to hell, I thought about his stark blue eyes and that feeling between my legs I ain’t never felt before, and maybe, just maybe, I was lying a teensy bit to myself.

  “Come on, mister,” I grunted, yanking him another few yards. “I don’t got all night.”

  He didn’t respond, and I kept pulling.

  What felt like hours later, I dragged him across the yard and into the old garage that was more barn than garage because we didn’t have a car. Another thing Mama couldn’t be trusted with.

  Stopping to catch my breath, I turned on the light and gave the stranger a good once-over.

  The first thing I noticed, besides the fact he was wearing only jeans and heavy-looking boots, was that his arms were even bigger under the single overhead light.

  The second was that he was tall.

  And for all his hair-pulling, smack-talking, tough-act routine, he looked peaceful as a baby sleeping.

  A baby who’d ruined my best skirt.

  “Hmph.” I grabbed the hose. “This is gonna hurt you more than it’ll hurt me. And trust me, I’m gonna enjoy that.”

  I turned the water on and sprayed him down like a dog.

  Five minutes later, after leaning over and rinsing the gunk out of my own hair, I stood there gaping.

  He wasn’t no dog.

  He was a god.

  A gorgeous, perfectly built, muscled display of bruised hotness. With… dang… two stab wounds. One on his leg right through his jeans, and one on his side, both of which I needed to get washed up and stitched because they were oozing, and that didn’t look too good.

  I’d seen worse. Way worse growing up around bikers. From gunshot wounds to road rash to beaten to a bloody pulp, I’d seen it all. But the fact that I was now staring at a larger-than-life, hot-blooded man and found all his wounds attractive was probably something I should’ve been worried about.

  Except I was too busy staring at his snug-fitting jeans.

  “Ohh, girl.” I shook my head, talking to myself. “You do not have time for those kinda thoughts.” I needed to clean up his cuts and fix his shoulder that was popped out like Mama’s was that time she fell in the shower.

  Sighing, I kneeled next to him and picked up his forearm. “Trust me,” I murmured. “I watched the YouTube video a dozen times before I tried this before. We should be good.” Feeling up his arm, holding behind his elbow, I exhaled.

  Then I twisted as I pulled.

  His shoulder popped back into place with a sickening little click, but he didn’t even flinch. I felt bad for pushing on it earlier in self-defense, but his breath was moving in and out of his lungs evenly and he seemed to forgive me.

  I sat back on my haunches. “Well dang, oh for two.” Sweat slicked my brow. “You’re welcome.”

  No manners, he didn’t reply.

  “Fine.” I stood. “You can thank me later.” Stomping my boots, I tried and failed to get the mud off. “Shoot. I can’t very well clean you up and stay dirty myself. You’re gonna half to wait here while I grab the first aid kit, a quick shower and some soap for those wounds.”

  I coiled the hose and, as an afterthought, took an old horse blanket and folded it before putting it under his head. “Stay put. I’ll be back before you know it.”

  I turned the light off and pulled the warped door shut before heading back toward the house. I was a few paces from the front steps when Daddy’s SUV came around the bend and sped down the drive.

  Caught in the headlights, my heart slammed into my throat.

  I didn’t bother making a run for the house.

  The tires spun as Daddy’s driver braked too fast, and the passenger door opened.

  “Shaila,” Daddy tsked, but with a disarming smile. “Your hair’s wet and you’re covered in mud, girl.” His shoulders squared, his hair perfectly trimmed, his jeans pressed, he didn’t look a thing like a biker. He never had.

  “Hi, Daddy.” I stood on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. “Mama’s inside. I was just going to shower and clean up.” I backed away, hoping like mad he didn’t ask any questions.

  “Ah, ah, ah.” He grabbed my upper arm. “Start talking.” His eyes narrowed. “It’s after dark. You know how I feel about you being out after sundown.”

  Shit on a cracker.

  I wasn’t so naïve that I didn’t know the difference between real concern and him keeping me pure, but I played the game anyway and forced a smile. Stone Hawkins was not a man you wanted to cross. “Just thought I heard a baby deer cryin’. You know I couldn’t leave a little ole baby alone in distress all night.”

  Daddy chuckled and pinched my cheek like I was still ten. “That’s my girl.” He looked over my shoulder toward the house. “Where’s your mother?”

  “Inside.” I glanced toward the house. “Probably at the window watchin’ and waitin’ on you.” The woman had no self-respect.

  Daddy chuckled, pulling two bags of groceries out of the back of his SUV. “She is consistent.” He handed me one of the bags. “Take that inside and clean up. Make your mother dinner.”

  It was almost ten o’clock. I didn’t tell him we’d already ate. Time meant nothing to him. “Yes, sir.” I turned toward the house.

  His hand lan
ded on my shoulder and he squeezed hard. “Your birthday’s coming up in a couple weeks.”

  His breath touched the back of my neck, and I fought a shiver. “Yes, sir.”

  He dropped his voice to a stern tenor. “You still a good girl?”

  I swallowed back bile. “Mm-hmm.”

  “Good.” He slapped my shoulder like I was one of his bikers. “That’s good, girl, because I’ve got a surprise for you. Now, go get cleaned up. Give me and your mother some time alone.”

  Chapter Five

  Tarquin

  Choking.

  No breath.

  Air hitched in my lungs and I coughed.

  Sucking in through my nose, I rolled.

  Stabbing pain shot from my ribs, and I vomited water.

  Water.

  Cold. Wet. It dripped down my face. My teeth started to chatter.

  I forced my eyes open.

  Pitch black.

  Every forsaken breath hurt.

  Fuck.

  Fuck.

  The female.

  I listened for a moment, but I heard nothing.

  My pants soaked, my hair wet, I was lying in a puddle.

  Shivering, not knowing if I was dead, I closed my eyes again.

  Chapter Six

  Shaila

  Sitting on my bed, fidgeting, I listened to the disgusting sounds Daddy made with Mama in her room.

  “Oh good Lord,” I whispered, rolling my eyes. “How long are they gonna carry on like that?”

  I got up and looked out the window toward the garage. Still no lights on, and the door hadn’t spontaneously popped open. I didn’t think the stranger was gonna wake up anytime soon, but still. I didn’t want nothing to happen while Daddy was here. He’d make sure Mister Blond-Hair would disappear, but I was already plotting.