She looked him up and down. Her eyes widened and she nodded her head.
"You trust me, right?"
She pressed her lips together and nodded again.
"Okay then, we're good. I need to get us out of here and I need my keys to do that. You stay here until I come and get you. Got it? I'll be back in a flash."
He took off through the trees like he could run fifty miles. He couldn't and even this short sprint was a bitch, but he couldn't let her see how tired he was. He wouldn't give her reason to doubt her trust.
He ran beyond the entrance and past the bend in the dirt road before he crossed to the other side. He needed to make sure he wasn't seen. His lungs were burning by the time he reached his makeshift pack.
Wasting no time, he jammed his feet through the legs of his jeans and hiked them up. Boots on, he stuffed his socks in his pocket, and sprinted back. He tossed her his shirt and jacket.
"Put these on. I'll go get the truck and pick you up."
It would have been easy had his truck actually been where he saw it last, but it wasn't there or anywhere else in the lot. The damn truck had been stolen again. The good news? His bike was parked where the truck had been. The bad news? Four wolvers of the Leather Clan stood like a wall in front of it. They turned as one, as in one fucking hostile looking one. They had to know their Alpha was dead, and River figured they were ready to take their anger out on the first victim who happened along. Unfortunately, he understood the need.
He wondered if they'd accept his offer to buy out all the beer in the bar where they'd met. They could drown their sorrows and beat the shit out of fellow Harley lovers instead of beating the shit out of him. Probably not. He shrugged, lifting one shoulder and rolling it back. While their eyes were on his, he wrapped his fist around the spare truck key and slid the shaft between his fingers. The cuts along the shaft and tip would make a good weapon.
By the time the key was arranged, he'd already assessed their potential. The two in the middle were young adults with peach fuzz mustaches and rosy cheeks. They looked related, not twins, maybe brothers. All four looked capable enough, but the two on the ends looked more so. The larger of the two had a good six inches on River and at least a foot on his older companion. His face was smooth and round and almost pretty with its big blue eyes and long, dark lashes. It was the eyes that gave him away, though. Those blue eyes were cold as ice. He didn't like River. At all.
The older one River placed at about forty, maybe a little older. He was short and sparely built, but his tightly fitting tee shirt revealed a muscled body in perfect condition. His face was badly scarred along one eye and his arms and hands were crisscrossed with the markings of a fighter. River felt his wolf bristle with interest at the sight of him.
Scarface was the one who spoke.
"We were set up, and you were part of it."
River's fist clenched a little tighter around the key. The accusation hit him harder than any tooth, claw, or fist ever could. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't shake his past and what it had made him. These wolvers didn't know him, yet they saw it in him like a brand burned into his forehead and his first instinct was to show them how right they were.
"Discretion is the better part of valor," Alpha Goodman had once told him. River had to look up what it meant and at the time, thought it was stupid advice. Fists were easier to use than words, faster too, but when confronted with four angry wolvers who weren't nearly as exhausted as he was, Charles' caution began to make sense. After all, he reasoned, there was the girl to consider, too. Her safety was what mattered.
"Look, I get it," River told them. He held up his hands with the key between his thumb and forefinger. "Your Alpha's dead and you're pissed. Can't say I blame you. He seemed like a nice enough guy, but I had nothing to do with it. I got caught up in this shit storm the same as you."
He quickly told them about the stolen truck and what he knew of their Alpha's final battle. He left the girl out of it.
"He fought bravely and he bought you time." He let his eyes slide away from them to the Thugs who were watching the confrontation with interest. "When their Alpha comes to, his first thought is going to be for the girl. His second will be revenge against the pack that almost killed him. The way I see it, you've got a choice. You can fight me and then fight them, or you can leave while you've got the chance." He nodded at the bike. "All I want to do is wipe this shit off my boots, get the hell out of here, and find my fucking truck."
"We've got packmates on the way," one of the others threatened. He sounded a lot like Dakota when he threatened his schoolmates with his big brother's wrath.
The scarred one glared at the speaker. The big one curled his lip and snarled. The speaker stepped back, and the quiet fourth stepped away as if to distance himself from what was to come. Yep, Ranger did the same thing when Dakota said something stupid.
There was no one coming tonight and they all knew it, but River saw no point in calling it a lie and forcing the guy's packmates to defend it.
"Maybe so," he admitted instead, "but they'll only get here in time to mop up what's left of you. Get out now, and call them. Warn them they're riding into trouble."
He thought he'd gotten away with it when he took a step forward and the line parted to let him through. It surprised the hell out of him, but he didn't let it show. Trading the keys in his pocket, he threw his leg over the Roadliner. They'd left the bike key in the ignition. All he needed to do was pull the choke out and set the kill switch to RUN.
"What happened to the Mate?" Scarface asked.
Well, shit. "I guess she took off with the Alpha," River said in feigned misunderstanding, but when he saw their facial muscles harden again, he changed course. "Oh, you mean the young one." He shook his head. "Beats the hell out of me. When the shit hit the fan, she took off." He gave them a nod. "Live to fight another day," he said as he as he squeezed the clutch.
It might have worked, too, if the would-be Mate hadn't come running from the trees at just that moment.
"It's starting to rain," she called as if none of them could feel the fat drops splattering against them. "We really should get going."
The sides of the open leather jacket spread out behind her like two misshapen wings too heavy to unfold. The thin white tee, originally meant to show off what River carried beneath it, now showed off too damn much of what she carried beneath it. He knew this because one of the assholes behind him started panting like a dog.
"She took off, huh?" Scarface said behind him.
"I say we give him what he asked for and beat the hell out of him," Ice Eyes snarled.
The girl had stopped to stare, but not at the five wolvers in front of her.
"My God." She uncurled one finger of the hand clutching the envelopes and pointed across the picnic area to where the Thugs were standing.
The Thugs' eyes returned the stare, but they didn't move. Their heads were tilted slightly back, noses aimed toward the woods in the direction from which River and the girl had come. They were listening. Their Alpha was awake.
"Roll or die," River said to the others as the motorcycle rumbled to life. He rolled the bike forward and reached for the girl. No one tried to stop him. They were running for their own bikes.
The girl's arm was still extended but she wasn't reaching for his hand. She was frozen in place, finger still pointing, as her horror filled eyes took in the overturned tables and broken benches. They stopped at the pile of fur covered bodies beside the listening wolvers.
He'd been wrong. She wasn't pointing to the Thugs, but to the evidence of the carnage. He'd been right, too. She hadn't fully understood what had happened until now. Seeing was believing.
"My fault," she whispered.
"We need to go."
She didn't hear him. Her head swiveled from side to side, taking in the entire area before returning to the wooden stage where her father had sat on his lawn chair throne. The chair was now a crumpled piece of metal and tangled plastic webb
ing. Dark stains shadowed the stage where blood had soaked into the wood.
"My God, what have I done?"
"We have to go."
River rolled the motorcycle as close as he dared. She jumped when he touched her. She stared at him and then at the bike.
"We have to go. Now." This time he shouted it and that seemed to wake her up.
He had to tell her what to do, where to put her feet, and how to hang on. She followed his directions, but seconds were lost where seconds counted.
He barely had her settled when they heard the shouts of the wolvers running to intercept them. The voices were drowned by the rumble of an engine starting behind them, and then another and another. River opened the throttle and took off with the girl's nails digging into his chest.
Chapter 9
The girl rode silently, her body plastered against his back and shivering uncontrollably in the cold rain that pelted against them. Her face was buried in his neck and her naked legs banged against his hips. In spite of her own misery, she'd tried to wrap the leather jacket she was wearing around him to protect his bare torso as best she could. The envelopes containing the money were pressed between them in a lumpy and sodden mass. She was freezing, and he was worried.
The rain was blinding, the wind driven drops like tiny razors lashing their sharp edges against his chest. The roads were bad and at high speeds, treacherous. The bastards that left his bike hadn't bothered to leave his helmet. If they spilled, she'd have no protection. Wolvers healed quickly, but there was no quick fix for a crushed skull.
It was a hundred and fifty miles to the meeting place. They'd already travelled a hundred of them, but they weren't alone. About a quarter mile behind them rode the four wolvers he'd met in the parking lot. They were in no hurry to catch up, but they weren't giving up either. There was nowhere to run and nowhere to hide. Time was on their side. The only choice River had was to keep moving until they reached the meeting place where the numbers would be on their side, or find shelter and take their chances with the riders behind them.
The decision was taken out of his hands when the girl moaned into his neck and the bike leaned dangerously to the side as she started to fall. His hand shot out to haul her back.
"I got you, babe," he called into the wind. "Just hang on. We're almost there."
He had no idea where that was, exactly, but the first place he saw that offered shelter from the storm was the place he was going to stop.
Almost there was five miles up the road. The Paradise Motel was a tropical oasis surrounded by cornfields and pasture. The six units were strung together in one long building, but each was painted in a different shade of turquoise, pink, and some pale orange shit that might have been peach. Artificial palm trees in bright yellow pots stood to either side of the steps leading to the office which was originally the enclosed front porch of the two story house behind it.
The girl was so exhausted, he had to lift her from the seat and keep his arm beneath hers to keep her upright. Once inside, they were surrounded by more tropical plants, real ones. Some were flowering. The blast of moist heat felt good, but did nothing to stop the girl's shivering. A doorbell sounded from inside the house.
"Coming," a woman's voice answered the call.
The girl swayed forward and back while River buckled the jacket around her and brushed back the hair that was clinging to her face. It was the best he could do, under the circumstances.
He gave no thought to his own appearance until the woman came through the front door of the house. She was big and round and wore some kind of tent-like dress covered in flowers that matched the ones in the pots.
"Terrible night, isn't it? Not fit for man nor beast."
River stepped in front of the girl and toward the counter. The friendly smile left the woman's face and she took a step back.
"Harry? Harry," she screeched through the open door and then to River, "We're full up."
There wasn't a car in the lot. Apparently, in this woman's eyes, he and the girl rated somewhere below man and beast.
"Ma'am." River tried to sound polite though inside he was seething. "We got caught in the storm. I know what we look like, but my girl here can't take anymore." He stepped aside so the woman could get a good look.
She had no sympathy. "She's drunk. That's not my doing and we're full up. There's another place up the road a piece, about twenty miles. Harry?" she screeched again.
The girl couldn't go another twenty steps never mind twenty miles. River's hands curled into fists and his jaw hardened.
Harry shuffled through the door, tightening the belt of his blue plaid robe. He pushed his glasses from the top of his head down to his nose. "What's the problem?"
His wife put her hands to her hips. "They are. Tell them they have to leave. Tell them we're not that kind of place."
"We're not that kind of place," Harry deadpanned. "You got a credit card?"
"Harry!"
River reached for his wallet. "I do," he said and hoped like hell that Charles hadn't cancelled it.
"There, you see, Sweetie Pie? They're cold and wet and need a place to stay. If they do any damage, we'll charge it to the card. You go on inside now and I'll handle this."
"This will ruin our reputation," she huffed as she moved back inside. "Ruin our reputation."
"What reputation?" Harry muttered when the door closed behind her. "We've had three customers in six weeks and they were all like you. They just dressed better. Gonna have to charge you for a full day, but the sheets are clean. You got cash?"
"Um, yeah, sure."
River returned the credit card to its slot. The man quoted a price, a round figure that he said included tax, and handed over the key once he had the money in hand.
"Aren't I supposed to sign something?"
"You sure you want to?"
"I guess not."
"Didn't think so." He nodded toward the girl and winked. "Dry her off, warm her up, and have a good time." He continued talking as he turned toward the door. "I was young once you know, and then I married Joan."
"Thank you," River called after him.
Harry waved his hand over his head and closed the door.
Since he couldn't manage both, River left the bike where it was and walked across the parking area with the girl in his arms. It was still raining, but he didn't have the energy to run. While the east showed faint signs of the coming dawn, it did little to lighten the skies around the Paradise Motel. River didn't need the light to recognize the three figures emerging from the unit at the far end.
"Shit."
"Shoot."
It was the first word she'd spoken since he put her on the bike. He wasn't sure if she was agreeing with him or correcting his language. Since her face was buried in his neck, and he was pretty sure her eyes were closed, he chose the latter, and it made him smile.
Unit Five was his and three of their four followers met him under the overhang that covered the cement walkway in front of the rooms. They didn't make any threatening moves, but he didn't like the way the big blond eyed the girl. The wolver's eyes had gone from cold to calculating.
River held the girl a little closer.
"Give me a minute to get her inside," he said before they had a chance to speak. "I'll give you your money and we can call it quits." He hoped the money was what they wanted and not the girl. If they wanted the girl, he'd have to fight.
His wolf snarled in agreement.
"We don't want the money."
Shit.
"Shut up, Toby." Blue eyes made a threatening move toward the wolver who'd spoken and the smaller wolver shrank back.
"Knock it off, Ben. The cub's right. We don't want the money. Or the girl," Scarface added when River's lip curled.
"What do you want, then?" River slid the key into the slot. The lock turned easily and the door swung open.
"Talk."
They tried to follow him in. He blocked their way.
"Not here."
; "Our room then."
River nodded. "Give me ten minutes." He had his foot hooked around the edge of the door, ready to close it, when he stopped. He narrowed his eyes. "How'd you get a room when you were behind us and where'd you stash the bikes."
Scarface smiled, his good eye almost closing with it. "Wheeled the bikes in real quiet while you kept them busy. Parked 'em around back and then worked a little magic." He wiggled the fingers of his right hand in the air. "Same way we always do it, except our standards are a little higher than yours."
"Sorry, the Regency was booked. Where's your other little buddy?"
"In bed."
"Then you better get him up. I want to see the four of you standing outside that door before I walk away from mine. Just in case your talents are contagious."
"But Quentin's hurt," Toby complained, giving away a weakness in their numbers.
Quentin and Toby. Frick and Frack.
"How bad?"
"A couple of busted ribs. The ride did him in."
"Busted ribs won't kill him. Get him up and I'll see you in ten, fifteen minutes." River stepped back, closed the door, and turned on the light.
He didn't need the light and almost turned it off again, but he couldn't. It was like watching the results of a horrific car accident. You knew you shouldn't look, but you couldn't turn away.
The furniture was mock bamboo with woven mats of plastic fronds. The same plastic, though darker, filled in the headboards and drawer fronts. In keeping with the tropical theme, palm trees were everywhere; on the curtains, and the chairs, and the bedspread. They were even woven into the carpet. River could have lived with that. Hell, he'd spent the night in a lot worse surroundings, but what put this place over the top of awful was the mural behind the two double beds. It covered the whole wall and the colors were so bright, they hurt his eyes.
Someone had let a ten year old without an ounce of artistic talent run wild. The sky was bright blue interrupted with lumps of blinding white that were supposed to be clouds. The sand was yellow mixed with brown so it wouldn't be confused with the glaring yellow ball shining down from the corner that he assumed was the sun. Marching across the wall was a row of - surprise! - palm trees. They looked like telephone poles with ragged green umbrellas on top. Hula girls danced between them. He recognized them by their coconut bras and grass skirts, but if this was someone's idea of a sensuous scene, they'd missed the mark. Unless you got off on fucking the dead.
Wolver's Reward Page 9