Digger

by Lynn Burke

  I merely raised an eyebrow in question.

  “Who gave you that scar?” he asked rather than answer me.

  “The bastard who raped my mother, knocked her up, and left her for dead.”

  “That bastard was my father.”

  My ears rang as my breath left in a rush. Unease rippled down my spine as Rucker’s voice about my having a brother whispered through my head. “The fuck?”

  “Took a lot of digging, a lot of payoffs, but I finally found you, didn’t I?” the blond asked, but nothing about his low, threatening voice indicated our meeting would end well. He hadn’t come looking for a long-lost brother. He’d come after the man who’d killed his father.

  “Guess you did,” I said, with the same intent in my own voice. Suddenly, I wished I’d fought Maci, made her stay back at the little store. Safe. Away from the fucker who wanted to watch me bleed out. She shuffled a step and grabbed my left hand, and for a split second—one fucking breath—I became distracted.

  The redheaded fucker drew his gun like Billy the Kid before I could pull mine from my back with my right hand.

  Fuck… The only thought I had as pain ripped through my side, spinning me sideways.

  Maci shrieked, and I hit the ground, losing my breath. My sight. Blackness swept over me, and I thought sure as shit I was about to see the bastard who’d sired me again. Another shriek kept me grounded, and I fought off the darkness at the edge of my mind.

  “You took him,” a voice sounded on the edge of my conscious, “so I’m going to take her.”

  “Digger!” Maci screamed again, and I groaned, trying to roll over. Move. Breathe.

  “Motherfucker,” a voice overhead growled. A blow landed in my kidney, pulling a grunt from my chest, but also bringing clarity back with a motherfucking force enough to match a freight train. Pain in my right side. Pain in my left from the boot of the redhead looming over me.

  “Digger!” Maci sobbed.

  “Bitch!” The blond hollered. “I’ll put a fucking bullet through your fucking brain!”

  My body wanted to curl into a fetal position, but the screams from a few feet away, drew me up onto all fours.

  Another kick laid me flat on my stomach, and I blinked the parking lot into focus.

  Fucking hell. Maci… The blond, my fucking brother, held her down on the rocky ground. She fought like a feral cat, scratching and screaming. I struggled to find my voice, remind her of the knife in her boot…

  Red-headed fucker kicked me again.

  The blond held Maci’s arms overhead in one of his meaty palms, his other hand ripping at her jeans. “Don’t kill him!” he hollered at his friend as my attacker landed another kick, pulling a grunt from my lungs. “He’s all mine—after I finish with his bitch.”

  “No! D-don’t!” Maci writhed beneath him, bucking and biting.

  I pushed up onto my elbows, shaking and weak.

  “Motherfucking whore!” he hollered as she sank her teeth into his forearm. He clobbered her across the face.

  Maci stilled beneath him, and he released his hold on her wrists to rip the crotch of her jeans.

  I’d lost my last fight—gaining a scar for life—and I wasn’t about to fuck up again. I growled, red hazing my vision, giving me strength when I wanted to roll over and die. I pushed onto all fours again as Maci’s head lolled to the side, her eyes blinking, gaze meeting mine.

  Knife, I screamed in my head, tapping my boot with a finger, praying like fuck her caretaker nature could be overridden. Knife!

  She blinked as the fucker kicked me again. Teeth gritted against the pain, I started crawling toward them. The blond sat back to yank his dick from his leathers, filling me with the need to bash in faces. Knife the shit out of both of the fuckers.

  “I’m going to fuck you so damn hard, you’ll forget all about that piece of shit,” the blond said with a sneer while palming himself.

  Gaze on me, Maci lifted her legs as if to wrap her legs around the would-be-rapist’s hips. He lined his dick up, and my sweet, little witch pulled her knife.

  “Motherfuck—” The blond’s voice cut off as I lunged at the redhead’s legs, tackling him to the ground. Rage overcame me, took my humanity on vacation, and I smashed my fist into his face. He went limp from one fucking hit, the pansy ass, but I didn’t waste another thought on him.

  Pulling my gun, I scrambled in the dirt toward the blond grappling with Maci for her knife. Blood poured from his side as he gripped her wrist, the blade clutched in her fingers dripping red.

  He’d thought to put his cock in my woman… A bullet wouldn’t give me the satisfaction I needed.

  His head whipped toward me, and he tried to scramble away. Maci locked her legs around his hips, keeping him from the gun he’d put on the ground beyond the struggling pair.

  Rising onto my knees, I pulled back my arm and smashed the fucker in the temple with my gun stock. He collapsed onto Maci.

  Rage buzzed in my ears. Sent tremors through my muscles. I fisted the fucker’s t-shirt and yanked him off my woman, tossing him to the ground like a ragdoll. Growling like a feral animal, I climbed atop him, landing the butt of my gun against his face again and again. Curses spewed from my lips as I rearranged his fucking face, sending splatters of blood over my torso.

  “Digger!” Maci’s yelp whipped my head around. Breathing heavily, I blinked, trying like hell to focus past the rage clouding my vision.

  “Back the fuck off.” Red-headed fucker had Maci pulled up against his chest. Gun to her temple.

  Every muscle in my body trembled. Yearned to kill. I tightened my grip on my gun while glancing at Maci’s hand. No knife.

  She whimpered, and I pushed off the limp blond, settling back onto my haunches.

  He glanced at his friend, his eyes wild. “Drop the gun, or I swear to fucking God—”

  Maci bashed her head against his nose.

  I whipped my gun up, and she leaned forward as her attacker hollered and loosed his hold on her.

  My gun barked in my hand, and a spray of gore shot out the back of his head. His body slumped to the ground, and Maci scrambled to my side, whining keens pouring from her lips.

  She clasped her hands to my side. “Oh, fuck! Fuck… Goddamnit!”

  “I’m okay,” I pulled her against me with one arm, my gun still in hand. Adrenaline crashed through my system, keeping me alert.

  Maci trembled against me, and with a grimace, I made myself stand, pulling her up into my arms. “We have to move, Maci.” A quick glance at both men assured me neither would ever twitch another muscle voluntarily. I tucked my gun back in my waistband and pulled my cell from my back pocket.

  Praying like fuck he would answer, I dialed Nicky.

  Maci

  I clutched Digger’s hand in mine, my mind flooded with images from the previous four hours, but I couldn’t form words. Couldn’t form coherent thoughts. He lay on Mel’s bed, eyes closed. Finally bandaged by some old guy covered in tattoos and wrinkles.

  Four hours of numbness.

  Four hours of anxiety wrecking my insides.

  We’d killed two men.

  I swallowed rising bile as images flashed in my head, over and over.

  Digger struggled to toss the two men’s bodies into the car’s trunk, but he refused my help. He scraped up bits of brain matter and the blood-soaked dirt while I sat on a large rock, arms wrapped around my waist, shaking. My ears waiting for the sound of sirens.

  Nicky pulled into the lot, Mel on the back of his bike.

  The two men chatted while Mel’s voice buzzed in my ears. She grasped my elbow. Pulled me toward Nicky’s bike.

  I stared down at Digger while fighting off the memories, his face as pale as the pillowcase beneath his head. A flesh wound, he’d said. The hole in his side hadn’t looked like a damn scratch to me as I had bound his waist with his bloodied t-shirt while waiting for Nicky.

  Heavy boots sounded on the stairs leading up the back of Mel’s place. Her apartm
ent sat over the bar she owned, its back steps nestled against the wooded lot behind.

  It had taken a dozen assurances from both Nicky and Digger before I’d allowed myself to sit behind Mel on her man’s bike and let her drive us back to her place while the two of them “took care of things”.

  I’d climbed those narrow, steep stairs on deadened legs, uncaring of the ruined jeans exposing me to the world.

  A hot shower.

  Borrowed clothes.

  Two shots of whiskey.

  I clenched my eyes shut and leaned my head down on Digger’s shoulder. Solid. Warm. Breathing in, I counted to ten. Exhaled on five.

  “How’s he doing?” Mel’s soft voice sounded from behind me.

  Forcing my head up again, I glanced her way. She studied the drugged-up mountain of a man sprawled on her bed. “Good, I guess,” I managed to rasp past my lips.

  Her own lips pursed and hands on her hips, Mel dipped her head and turned her attention on me. “How are you?”

  I shrugged and swallowed.

  “Nicky just got back. He said everything has been taken care of.”

  I didn’t want to know.

  “Jonny is on his way up here to get you two.”

  I nodded.

  “You know,” she said, speaking quieter, “for all Nicky’s talk about leaving the Gliders behind, he didn’t hesitate to answer when Digger called. Didn’t hesitate to agree to help clean up the situation.”

  Tears pricked my eyes. “I’ll never be able to thank him—you both—for everything you’ve done for us tonight.”

  “Seeing Digger today brought a sparkle to Nicky’s eye I’ve never seen before. Like he’d found his long-lost family or some shit. Not that I want him to go back, or anything.”

  The corner of my mouth quirked even though my throat stayed tight.

  “He should be out for a while,” Mel said, motioning toward the bed with her chin. “Why don’t you come out to the kitchen and have something to eat?”

  “I’m not hungry,” I managed to whisper, “but thanks.”

  She nodded and offered a small smile.

  I turned back to Digger. Even passed out, he still scowled. I kissed the corner of his disfigured lips and laid my head on his shoulder again, keeping my eyes open so the memories in my head wouldn’t be as vivid.

  The press of my attacker’s dick against my dry pussy had made stabbing him with a knife easy. I’d never been one for violence, would rather cut myself than someone else, but being a hair away from having some stranger’s cock shoved inside of me had snapped something in my brain.

  He’d backed off pretty fucking quickly when I’d buried the knife in his side.

  I heaved a breath as exhaustion swept over me.

  Digger wasn’t awake, but I still took comfort in him. His presence filled the small bedroom, soothing the tension in my shoulders and neck. I nuzzled my cheek against his warm shoulder, breathing in the scent of him.

  It’s going to be okay, I told myself. He’d killed before. Hidden bodies. Covered plenty of asses.

  He must have learned from Nicky like I’d suspected. The brother who Digger had said wrote them off. Turned his back against everything the Gliders stood for.

  That man had come when called, though. Without hesitation. If not for Nicky, we both probably would have ended up in jail.

  I finally gave over to my bottled emotions. Release came in a torrent of tears.

  Digger stirred, and I crawled onto the bed beside him, careful to avoid his right side, tears dripping onto his bare skin.

  “Shh,” he whispered against my hair while pulling his hand free from mine and working his arm beneath me. “’S’all right.” His slurred words accompanied his one-armed hug, and I snuggled against his side, somehow knowing he spoke the truth.

  ****

  A mere hour before sunrise, we finally got back to Digger’s house. Jonny and Capone got him into his bed with only a dozen or so curses from the three of them.

  Nicky had only spoken a few words to the two men when they’d arrived. He merely dipped his head as both thanked him—at least twice—and he’d offered no reply when Jonny told him to reach out if he ever needed anything.

  Jonny sent me to the kitchen with Capone while he had a little chat with Digger. Again, I didn’t want to know.

  I slumped at the kitchen table, my head in my hands.

  “You okay?” Capone asked as the legs of the chair beside me scraped against the floor.

  Unsure how to answer, I sighed.

  “Maybe you ought to think about getting out while you can,” he said, his words eerily similar to Digger’s from the weekend before. “This lifestyle doesn’t really suit you.”

  I lifted my head and met his gaze. Blue eyes filled with pity studied my face, lingering on the bruise across my cheekbone. “That fucker had his dick pressed against me, Capone. One thrust, and I’d have been raped. Raped.” My brow furrowed as tears filled my eyes. “I enjoyed sinking that knife into him. Never felt such satisfaction as when he grunted and warmth slid over my hand. I’d do it again without a heartbeat’s hesitation.”

  “Maci—”

  “It was self-defense. He shot Digger.”

  “It was.”

  “I mean—” A half-laugh, half-sob spilled from my lips, “—what woman wouldn’t try to kill a man who was about to take her dignity? Right?”

  Capone continued to study me. “Right.”

  “You know what bothers me even more than the fact I stabbed the man?” I asked, blinking a few times to stop more tears from flowing. “That Digger ended his life before I could.”

  He shook his head, but not in a judgmental way. “So damn perfect for him.”

  “Am I sick?” I asked, too focused on my own thoughts to give his words consideration.

  “Not at all.” He grabbed my hand and squeezed. “Digger’s one lucky bastard.”

  I sucked my lower lip between my teeth and glanced back the hallway toward the bedroom. “I’ve never been so caught up in someone before. It’s kind of terrifying. Do you think I’m crazy? Being with him?” I waved my free hand around the kitchen. “This lifestyle?”

  “You lit up when he put his hands on you that first night.”

  “I did?”

  His slow, lazy smirk also twinkled in his eyes. “First time in my life I felt incompetent.”

  “Oh please.” I actually smiled. “You’re hot. Got a great body, and that tongue…”

  Capone’s smile widened. “Better not let Digger hear you say things like that. He’s one jealous prick.”

  My smile faded. “I like that about him.”

  “I think you’re making the right choice, Maci, even though I hate to see you caught up in this shit.”

  “You’re a good man,” I whispered while squeezing his hand.

  He snorted a sarcastic laugh. “I’m no badass like Digger, but you can’t be good and be a Glider.”

  “Our definitions of good must differ,” I said, thinking of Nicky as well.

  The bedroom door opened, and I squeezed Capone’s hand again as footsteps sounded in the hallway.

  “He’s asking for you, Maci,” Jonny said, his presence filling the kitchen entrance.

  I glanced up at him and released my hold on Capone. “I’ll take this to my grave,” I said, my voice low.

  Jonny studied me, his dark eyes peering into mine for enough seconds to make me shift on my chair. He dipped his head, lips in a tight line, before nodding Capone toward the door. “Call if you need anything,” Capone said, standing to follow his brother.

  “Will do.”

  The door clicked shut behind them, and I locked up before making my way to the bedroom.

  Still pale, Digger lay on his back, eyes half-mast. “Come here.”

  Needing to feel his warmth, I slipped out of my borrowed clothes and crawled under the sheet beside him, careful of the bandage on his far side.

  He grunted his displeasure, snaked an arm beneath m
e, and pulled me snug against his good side. “Better.” He half-sighed the word. “Sorry you didn’t get to spread your mom’s ashes.”

  “That’s okay,” I whispered. “We can do it later.” I rested my cheek against his chest, my hand lying above his heart, one leg draped over his. “How are you feeling?”

  “Been worse.”

  “The pain meds that old man gave you working?”

  “Too well.” He exhaled deeply, his hand splayed over one of my ass cheeks. The sheet over his hips stirred as he squeezed. “So plump and juicy. I feel like I could fuck this ass—”

  “You’ll do no such thing until that hole in your side is healed.”

  “Take off your panties.”

  “Digger…”

  “Take them off.”

  Shaking my head, I tugged them down my legs.

  He pulled me back up against him. “So soft,” he murmured, his fingertips sliding over my hip, around my ass cheek and between.

  Warmth stirred in me.

  “Did that fucker put his cock in you?”

  My breath caught as his fingertip brushed over my pussy. “No.”

  “Thank fuck.” He rimmed my hole, drawing moisture from my body. With his other hand, he slid the tented sheet off his thickening cock. “I need to be inside you.” The low, rumbled words flooded me with heat, and when he took himself in hand and slowly pumped down his length, my pussy spasmed with need.

  I shook my head. “You need to take it easy.”

  “I will.” He pulled me on top of him as though I weighed nothing, and my legs settled on either side of his hips on their own. “Ride me, Maci,” he murmured. “My fierce, beautiful witch. Gotta have you.” He flexed his hips, rubbing the back of his cock up through the wetness coating my pussy.

  I’d heard that near-death experiences can cause the need to fuck to consume a person. I needed Digger so damn much—to fill me up, take away the memory of the bastard who almost took from me without permission. “Put your right arm down,” I whispered, sliding my hand from his shoulder to his wrist while he did as told. “Keep it there.”

  Lust burned in his dark eyes, his permanent scowl drawing me down until I breathed over his lips. A shift of my hips notched the head of his cock inside of me. He groaned. I flicked my tongue over his bottom lip. “Hold still,” I reminded him, pushing back and slowly filling myself with his massive cock.