Outlaw’s Ink_A Motorcycle Club Romance_Metal Monsters MC

by Sophia Gray

  “That's one hell of a getup you got there, Carter,” Buzzard said, surveying Carter's clothes and haircut. “Was you plannin' to go door to door later, askin' folks if they've heard the good news 'bout Christ?”

  “Like I'm going to take that shit from someone dressed like you,” Carter chuckled. “Shouldn't you be in a saloon somewhere, jumping up and down and yelling about how 'there's gold in them thar hills,' or something?”

  “Ahh, you always was fulla piss an' vinegar,” Buzzard laughed.

  A light came on, and Billie saw that they were actually standing inside a crudely-constructed elevator. Buzzard turned the crank and the platform they were on slowly sank into the floor, coming out into a cozy-looking living area. There was a small kitchen and dining space, plus a couch and an easy chair. The shelves on the walls were overflowing with thousands of books on every subject imaginable, from the complete works of Charles Dickens to manuals on how to install plumbing. There were three doors leading to other rooms.

  “That 'un leads to the generator, the pantry, an' the cold storage room,” Buzzard said, pointing to one of the doors. “Got me enough food, tobacco, an' gasoline in there to stay alive down here fer 'nother forty years. Not that I expect I'll live that long, heh.” He pointed to the second door. “That 'un is the crapper. No need to ask permission 'fore usin' it—we don't much stand on ceremony here. An' that third 'un is my bedroom, though I reckon y'all can use it tonight if'n you want to. I've gotten pretty good at passin' out on the couch with a book an' a whiskey bottle.”

  “This is a lovely place you have,” Billie said.

  “'Only why did I build it,' right? That's the question you're fixin' to ask, ain't it?” Buzzard let out a long, wheezing laugh. “Saw the writin' on the wall 'bout, oh, ten years back. I'd been workin' at that damn bank in Cactus Hollow fer nigh-on thirty years, when suddenly, in comes that pole-greaser Coop Scanlon with his 'cost-cutting' this an' 'overhead' that. Mind you, it was all just an excuse for the prick to fill his own pockets without anyone knowin'.”

  “You used to work at the McMurtry bank?” Billie asked.

  “'Course I did,” Buzzard cackled. “Used to see your momma in there 'bout once every week or two, as I recall. Yer Sharon Rosewood's daughter, ain'tcha? Sure y'are. I can see her in yer eyes, y'know? The eyes never lie.

  “Anyways,” Buzzard continued, “once Coop figured out that I was onto him, that rancid sack of goat piss set things up so it looked like I was the one stealin'! Can you beat that? Well, that right there was when I had my moment of clarity, like God's own truth shinin' down on my brain. I knew that humans were such a greedy, stupid, arrogant species that it's only a matter of time 'fore the nukes start flyin' an' everythin' gets burned to a goddamn fritter. I built this little hole in the ground so I can spend my last few years safe, comfortable, an' most of all, alone.”

  “How will you know if something like a nuclear war happens?” Billie asked. “It doesn't look like you have a TV around here to watch the news.”

  Buzzard looked at her as though she must be stupid. “Girl, don't you know them idiot boxes don't never do nothin' but lie?”

  “Speaking of the bank, this is for you,” Carter said. He unzipped his saddlebag and produced several stacks of bills, handing them over to Buzzard. “Your share from McMurtry. Twelve grand.”

  The old man laughed triumphantly, slapping his knee. “Well, dip me in honey an' throw me to the fuckin' bears. You peckerwoods actually came through!”

  “A promise is a promise,” said Carter.

  “But you said you've already got everything you need down here,” Billie observed. “So what are you going to do with twelve thousand dollars?”

  “Glad you asked,” Buzzard said, grinning. He opened the door to the bathroom and set the stacks of cash next to the toilet. “I'm gonna spend the next few years wipin' my fuckin' old, wrinkled ass with it an' flushin' it down. It'll knock the hell outta my hemorrhoids, but it'll be worth it knowin' that I prob'ly got that sonuvabitch Coop fired. Revenge is a beautiful bitch, ain't she? Come on, I'll make you somethin' to eat.”

  Buzzard cooked a delicious meal of pork chops with gravy, spinach, and instant mashed potatoes, and served ice cream for dessert. As they ate, they traded jokes and stories from the road. When Buzzard was clearing the dishes from the table, the tale of the failed gas station robbery made him laugh so hard that his face turned beet red and he almost dropped everything.

  After that, Buzzard prepared the bedroom for them and gave them some fresh towels so they could shower in the morning. Then he wished them both goodnight and retreated to the living room to read.

  “He's a lot of fun,” Billie said as they kicked off their shoes and curled up on the bed together. “How did you meet him?”

  “That's a long story,” Carter said. “And I'll bet we can find something better to do with our time.”

  He kissed her and she folded her arms around him, running her hands up and down his powerful back. Her fingertips found the edge of his t-shirt and she pulled it up over his head, tossing it aside. His eyes gleamed down at her mischievously as he took off her shirt, then reached behind her back and undid her bra.

  As they continued to kiss, Billie pressed her body against his fervently, like a drowning woman clinging to a life preserver. It felt right, since he'd saved her from a stagnant life of being ordinary and miserable. There was no more need for teasing, no more uncertainty about how far he'd let her go with him. Now that Billie knew their destinies were entwined, she threw herself into Carter with total abandon—not knowing what tomorrow would bring, but knowing that no matter what came, they'd still be together.

  Billie sat up and firmly pushed Carter onto his back. She got on top of him, moving her hips up and down slowly. The crotch of her jeans was grinding against his, and she felt how hard he was for her.

  “Do you need me, baby?” Billie whispered, planting kisses on Carter's neck and chest.

  “God, yes, Billie,” Carter murmured. He stroked her left nipple, and she felt goosebumps cascade over her breast. “I love having you with me.”

  “And you're sure you want me to come with you to Mexico?” Billie's lips kept caressing Carter's skin, sinking lower and lower until she was kissing him just below his navel.

  “I can't think of anyone I'd rather have with me down there,” he breathed. His fingers stroked the back of Billie's head, tousling her hair.

  “Not even Hazmat and Oiler?” she joked, looking up at him with a raised eyebrow.

  He laughed, his eyes meeting hers. Since they'd been together, Billie had seen many emotions in his eyes—anger, mistrust, excitement. But this was the first time she saw joy in them, and she was ecstatic at the thought that she was the reason for it.

  “Even them,” Carter said. “But to be fair, neither of them ever did that to me before.”

  “You ain't seen nothing yet,” Billie said. She grinned and undid the button on his jeans, taking the tongue of his zipper between her thumb and forefinger. She slid it down slowly, relishing the lust and delight in his eyes as she did. When his fly was fully open, she reached inside, feeling his large cock throb warmly in her hand.

  She released it from its confinement, gently stroking the quivering shaft with her fingertips. She marveled at its shape as it continued to extend in her grasp, pointing toward the ceiling.

  Billie moistened her lips with her tongue and took him in her mouth. He let out a low moan, his hands tightening on her head.

  Billie cradled Carter's cock on her tongue, keeping her hand wrapped around the base of his shaft. She could feel trembles rippling through his body as she sucked him tenderly, moving her head up and down. Up and down over and over.

  His musk was intoxicating. Eventually she was able to take him all the way to the back of her throat, and she did so eagerly.

  “Your mouth is so fucking sweet,” Carter whispered.

  “Mmmm-hmmmmm,” she hummed, drawing it out so the vibration on his skin woul
d drive him crazy. Sure enough, he spasmed as he reached his climax, his back arching as she felt him gush inside her mouth.

  As Billie raised her head, Carter sat up. It was his turn to shove her down on the bed. He undid her jeans, putting his hand inside them.

  “That got you pretty wet, huh?” he asked, smiling.

  “Damn right,” she replied. “What are you going to do about it?”

  Carter pulled off Billie's jeans and spread her legs, lowering himself between them. She felt his tongue lapping at her, his warm breath cascading exquisitely down the lips of her pussy.

  She gasped, a hand clutching the sheets next to her reflexively.

  “Nice technique,” she sighed happily, the other hand stroking the back of his neck.

  But minutes later, when he slid two fingers inside of her as he continued to lick her clit, she was unable to speak in anything but sharp, urgent, broken syllables—breathless shards of speech that couldn't begin to hint at the way he was making her feel.

  Sucking on him had already brought her close to the edge.

  Now a dam broke inside of her, and she felt an ocean of bliss rush through her entire body.

  Soon after that, they were asleep in each other's arms.

  Chapter 36

  Billie

  A few hours before dawn, Billie got up to use the bathroom. As she passed through the living room on her way back, she saw that Buzzard was awake and sitting on the couch with a photo album open on his lap.

  “I'm so sorry,” Billie said. “I hope I didn't wake you.”

  “Nah, I'm usually up around this time anyways,” Buzzard answered. “This bladder've mine insists on wakin' me, an' then what? I stand over the pot fer damn near twenty minutes, with nothin' but drips an' dribbles.” He shook his head. “Never get old if'n you c'n help it, young lady.”

  “What's that you're looking at?” she asked.

  “Better times,” he replied. There was a touch of sadness in his voice. “Come on an' have a look, if'n you like.”

  Billie sat down on the couch with him, looking down at the photo mounted on the page. In it, Buzzard looked about ten years younger. He was posing against a dusty old pickup truck with a handsome, rugged man in a cowboy hat who appeared to be in his fifties.

  “My son Alden,” Buzzard said, nodding. “Looks just like me, don't he?”

  But the more she stared at the picture, the more Billie realized that Alden looked a lot more familiar than that. His hair, the shape of his face...

  And the eyes. The same squint, the same reckless twinkle.

  “Is this...Carter's father?” she asked.

  Buzzard chuckled. “It's like I said, ain't it? The eyes don't never lie.”

  “So you're his grandfather.”

  The old man smiled, but in the dim light from the gas lamp next to him, Billie could see tears shining in his eyes. “Don't know how much he told you 'bout his family. But the thing you need to understand is, Alden, he didn't wanna run out on Carter's momma. Hell, he didn't even know she was pregnant. He was a real wild type, an' he got on the wrong side of some moonshiners from Louisiana. I don't even remember what he did to piss 'em off, it was so long ago. He went on the run up to Canada, even spent some years workin' oil rigs in Alaska. He didn't find out he had a son 'til around the time he came back into my life, 'bout six or seven years ago.”

  “What was it that kept you apart for so long?” Billie asked.

  “I was a drunk when Alden was a boy,” Buzzard said. “I hurt him an' his momma a lot, an' one day I woke up sober an' felt so bad 'bout what I'd done that I knew I had to kill myself or run away. Still dunno why Alden decided to find me, or how he was able to forgive me when I still ain't never forgave myself. But when he learned about Carter, all he wanted to do was go to him an' apologize, give 'im some explanation for why he couldn't be around for 'im as a kid.” Buzzard sighed. “Maybe a day comes when a man just decides he's gotta have his family, no matter how fucked up they are.”

  “So what happened?”

  Buzzard wiped a tear from his cheek. “I was goin' with him to meet up with Carter, but 'bout halfway there, them moonshiners ambushed us. Those cocksuckers had memories like goddamn elephants, an' even after all them years, they was waitin' for Alden to come back down south so they could settle things with 'im. I'm good with a rifle an' I chased 'em off, but by then, they'd filled my boy with fuckin' holes, the bastards.” He sniffed. “I tracked 'em down an' finished 'em off, though. By God, I did that. Then I found Carter an' apologized to 'im on behalf of his daddy.”

  Billie put her hand on Buzzard's arm. “I'm so sorry.”

  He shook his head. “No need. Just take good care of my grandson. That's all I ask.”

  Billie nodded as she stood and went back to the bedroom. Even after hearing about his early life when they were in the cabin, she hadn't been able to think of Carter as a child. But Buzzard's story made her heart hurt as she pictured Alden spending most of his life without his father, and Carter never even knowing his father at all.

  They'd grown up to be hard as nails, but they'd both started off as lonely, abandoned boys. The sadness of this legacy still lingered in Carter's eyes.

  Before she went back to sleep, she held Carter tight.

  Chapter 37

  Carter

  When Carter woke up, the first thing he saw was Billie looking down at him with a strange smile. Her eyes looked like she was searching his face for...something. It wasn't unpleasant, but it made him feel a little weird.

  “What?” he asked, yawning.

  “Nothing,” she said, kissing him. “I'll tell you later. I think Buzzard's making breakfast for us.”

  As they emerged from the bedroom, Buzzard was placing plates and bowls of food on the table, along with mugs of coffee. The smell of maple sausage was in the air.

  “So I reckon I'll have to go ahead an' burn them sheets after you leave, seein' as how you young people prob'ly spent most've the night pollutin' 'em with your damn sex juices an' whatnot,” Buzzard rasped, winking at Billie.

  Carter laughed. “Why don't you sniff them and find out, you old perv?”

  “If all this talk isn't enough to make us hungry, I don't know what will,” Billie smirked, sitting down at the table.

  “Sorry the eggs an' milk is powdered,” said Buzzard. “Should still taste all right, though. You goin' to meet up with them other two today, down at that truck stop?”

  “Yep,” Carter said, shoveling a forkful of scrambled eggs into his mouth.

  “I drew you a map to get to the airstrip from there,” Buzzard continued. “Take care not to get lost. That place ain't gonna have no signs pointin' to it, y'understand.”

  “Airstrip?” Billie asked, adding milk to her coffee.

  Carter nodded. “It's a little tarmac a few miles from the truck stop. The guy who owns it has a plane he uses to fly people over the border. He runs guns, drugs, fugitives, you name it. He'll transport us in exchange for a percentage of what we got from the banks.”

  “Good plan,” she said.

  Once they finished their meal and the dishes were in the sink, Carter grabbed his saddlebag from the bedroom. Buzzard gave Carter a hug, slapping him on the back. “Thanks again for makin' an old man happy, kid. You did good. Here, I'll go up top with you.”

  They climbed into the lift and Buzzard cranked it, bringing them back up to the surface. As soon as the door opened, the heat from outside hit Carter like a blast furnace.

  A second later, a shot rang out and the bullet buried itself in Buzzard's chest.

  Buzzard fell out of the small metal shed face first, landing on the sand. Stunned, Carter watched him fall, his peripheral vision registering Billie's shocked expression.

  Before he could reach for his own weapon, he heard a gun cock. A man in a black duster coat and a wide-brimmed hat was leveling a pair of long-barreled revolvers at them. He had a long scar extending from his right eye down to his lip, and when he smiled, he revealed a
mouthful of rotten teeth.

  “Keep your hands up and come on out of there,” he said. “Or don't, and I'll kill you. Either one is fine with me.”

  Slowly, Carter and Billie raised their hands and stepped out into the sunlight.

  “Who the fuck are you supposed to be?” Billie asked.

  “Name's Stoudenmire,” the gunman said. “Bounty hunter. There's a hefty reward for you, and I aim to collect. No pun intended,” he added, indicating the pistols in his hands.