Outlaw Road (A MC Romance)

by Flite, Nora

  Like good rubberneckers, they slowed down just enough to see what was going on, while maintaining a gap to escape if they needed to.

  I stretched out my arms, walking towards them, and shouted to the boy in the back seat. “Women are nothing but trouble, kid. Stay away from them, your life will be so much easier!” The prudish wife gasped and tried to cover the boy's eyes, while the husband gunned it. I stepped back into the road and called after them as they sped up and drove off. “Listen to the crazy, screaming, naked man in the road! Nothing but trouble!”

  That family was going to have a lot to talk about at mass today.

  I watched as the car disappeared around the same bend in the road as my bike had a few minutes earlier. Venting some of that anger and frustration made the walk back to the camp site a little more tolerable.

  I put my clothes back on, striding towards the construction site that we'd passed last night. My brain was so wrapped around Flora, it almost felt like she was walking beside me.

  I was still pissed, but I was beginning to calm down. Goddammit, girl, I was actually starting to like you. Flashes of the way she felt and smelled and tasted buzzed around me like a swarm of bees, stinging me with painful reminders of how good it all was.

  And that none of it was real.

  She just wanted an escort and my bike, that was it, I told myself firmly.

  If it were that cut and dry I could've gotten over the betrayal. I'd been beaten up and fucked over so many times that it was almost a masochistic hobby of mine. But this was different, and somehow so much worse.

  I'd fooled myself by opening up to that girl. What the fuck was I thinking? Roach was right, I had changed. I still didn't know why. It couldn't have just been the sex. It was only recently that we hooked up, so how did she manipulate me so easily?

  Through my haze of uncertainty and confusion, the ecstasy of last night crashed against me like a rogue wave of wanting. The way the firelight washed over her, setting her perfect sweat-slicked aglow... The smooth curvature of her back... The wet, tight, velvet embrace of her pussy as I slid my cock inside—

  “Fuck!” I screamed. It took screaming at the top of my lungs to slow the cascade of vivid, wonderful, filthy images. It was killing me. I had to get her out of my head.

  When I finally regained my composure, I spotted the fenced-off work site. It came into view over the next hill. It wasn't far now.

  I'd thought about thumbing for a ride, but no other cars came down the desolate road. Even if they had, I wasn't holding out much hope of getting picked up. Us dangerous biker types weren't well received in sheltered rural towns. Long hair, leather, tattoos and scars. We resembled too many movie villains, I guess.

  I checked my phone, it was still early. My cell had reception, sure, but I didn't have anyone to call and I doubted taxis made their way out to this area. The construction site was my only real chance to get the hell out of here before more trouble came rolling down that road.

  'New Spring Gardens by Hansdale construction and realty— flowering soon!' read the sign by the locked gate entrance. I peered in, checking for cameras. It didn't look like there was any kind of surveillance in use, and only an eight foot chain link fence to stop people from entering. I was getting ready to climb it when I noticed that it stopped at the tree line, so I just walked around.

  Inside, heavy rain that we must have missed on our way here had filled in the newly made foundation for the hotel that was going up. The whole area was waterlogged. It was lucky that our makeshift campsite, last night, had been so dry.

  And like a thorny elastic, that association was all it took for Flora to snap back into my head, interrupting anything productive.

  If she just wanted my bike, then why didn't she take it at the gas station when I was surrounded? She had more than enough opportunity to just leave, but instead she drove it like a psychopath, directly into the throng of armed assholes, to save me. It didn't make any sense.

  Was everything we shared the last few days a lie, or wasn't it?

  There had to be something I'd overlooked. Did she actually care enough about me to not want to see me hurt, or was that just her way of repaying a debt from the times I'd saved her?

  “Why bother to save me if she was just using me?” I asked aloud, leaning against the side of a pickup truck, hoping that if the words were given sound I might be able to make some sense of them.

  I had so many questions.

  The only answer I received was from the high pitched bark of a small brown frog that had jumped onto my boot from under the shaded truck. I bent down and let it hop into my palm. “What do you think, oh wise little amphibian? Was Flora using me?”

  With glassy eyes, its vocal sack inflated, and it croaked again.

  “You're just trying to get laid, aren't you? Can't blame you there, little guy.”

  I put him back down and watched him vanish under the truck, not a care in the world. Food, sleep, sex and comfort. It was amazing how much I had in common with a frog. I had changed since meeting her, though. I wanted more than those four things now.

  I had every reason to want to throttle that fucking girl, but mostly, and begrudgingly... I just missed her. I was in tune enough with myself to know when thinly-veiled anger was keeping me from accepting hard truths. I learned that in one of my post basic training classes in the Army.

  The sound of a vehicle, tearing ass down the road, snapped me out of contemplation. I slipped out of sight until it passed and refocused on what was important at the moment; getting out of here.

  It being Sunday, I had the pick of the litter. This place had a dozen vehicles kicking around that wouldn't be missed for at least a day, which was more than enough time for me to ditch it and find something else.

  I checked the pickups first, but those were all locked. The next step up was the trailerless semi truck. That, along with everything else, was locked as well.

  “Huh.” Usually on sites like these, there'd be so many operators in and out, using the equipment, that it was just easier to leave one door open and keep the keys in it. Most regular people couldn't drive half this shit.

  The only thing left that was even remotely practical was the big, fuck-off, eight-wheeled dump truck. What the hell...

  Click.

  “No shit.” The door swung open easily. I jumped in and checked all the usual spots, finally finding the keys under the passenger seat. I stuck them in the ignition, ready to head out, when it struck me. My plans had changed so many times over the course of the week, I couldn't keep track anymore.

  Where am I going?

  I guess it didn't matter. Anywhere I went, either the Knights or some other asshole would be looking for a piece of me. I entertained the idea of just saying 'fuck it' and letting them find me, or maybe heading out of the country. Probably to Mexico.

  But both options rang out as extremely hollow. Whether I escaped the country or not, it still felt like I was running. Running from death or from being the man I always wanted to be— the man that I got a glimpse of last night.

  The man that wasn't afraid to say his real name, and finally let someone close.

  Flora cared about me, she was just scared and didn't want to put me in any more danger. The notion was absurd, being that everything was mostly my fault to begin with, but it was also endearing.

  She had no chance surviving the entire Knights MC on her own. Saving her sister was a pipe dream. What kind of man would I be if I let her die like that?

  No, I knew the second I'd kissed her where I was headed.

  And it wasn't Mexico.

  I breathed heavily with a newfound resolve. There was something calming about the clarity of purpose that came with holding onto something more important than myself. I'd felt that way only one other time, when I was in the military before all the shit went down.

  I missed the hell out of that feeling. I couldn't bear to let that slip through my fingers again.

  I was going after her.

&nb
sp; There were no illusions about Miami being more than a one way trip for me, so I needed to let someone else know what the Knights were up to, while I still had the chance. I thought about the few bridges I hadn't burned and the choice became obvious.

  I called the one person I thought would actually answer.

  “Ronin?” came the familiar voice.

  “Yeah, it's me.”

  Poet sighed. “I don't have anything for you yet, except that somehow the Knights found out that you'd been cut loose. Lucky's put up a bounty for you.”

  “Yeah, ten thousand. Some rednecks were kind enough to share that news.” The memory of those assholes last night, mocking me as they debated who would deal the killing blow, itched at me. I thought about telling Remy what had happened, but it didn't feel necessary. “I'm a little disappointed at the amount.”

  “That's only because they don't know you that well. I'd have offered half that, if I wanted you dead,” Remy said. I could hear him smiling.

  “You're a funny guy, Pres. How's the old lady?”

  “Star?” He chuckled. “She keeps me on my toes.”

  “Tell her I said hi.”

  “I most certainly will not.” Poet expended the remainder of his mirth, switching to a more serious tone. “Let's get down to it. How much shit are you in?”

  Drumming the wheel, I said, “Bad decisions a plenty, staring down the wrong end of too many pistols. Oh, and my bike just got hijacked. The usual.”

  “Good to hear you're keeping busy. You know I can't help you in any official capacity.”

  The reminder was a mild kick to the ribs. “I'm just spreading some news that I picked up digging through one of the Knights' phones. Looks like they're in the flesh peddling game after all.”

  “That so?” Remy asked. He sounded more resigned than surprised. Remy was a smart guy, I'd probably just confirmed a hunch he'd already heard about that shit club.

  There was no reason not to tell him the rest of the story. “Turns out they run the whole east coast, including working with a third party for the area controlled by the Steel Veins.”

  “Our turf too, huh?”

  “Yeah, who'd have thought? They seemed like such stand-up guys.” I resisted the urge to spit. “This is making them rich, Remy. We're looking at months, maybe a year, before they're strong enough to take our MC apart, chapter by chapter.”

  “'Our' MC,” he mused. “That is a problem.”

  I ignored his casual emphasis that I was no longer part of the club. “Looks like they have their biggest shipment going out tonight, at a place they call 'The Palace.' Heard of it?”

  “I'm familiar. It's owned by a man named Tully. People say he's a special breed of scumbag.”

  “Tully...” That was the name I'd heard at the brothel when I won Flora in that card game. “Holy shit, Tully is Lucky's brother. Repo can back me, he heard it too.” Thinking about what I'd found in the Knights' cellphone, I said, “I bet Tully owns a cruise ship company, right? Or has connections to one?”

  “In addition to whatever else he's doing.” There was a silence on the other line. I could almost hear the gears turning in the Poet's head. “Tully has an underground network in that area. If he is tied to the Knights, and they are trafficking girls, then that's how they're getting them out of the country.”

  Slowly but surely, a righteous anger was building in me. “Well, I'm in the area, figure I'll swing by, knock on their door and say hi.”

  “You've never had a head for club politics, Connor. What's her name?” Poet was right. He was always the man with the plan, not me. The big picture was never something I had the patience to deal with. I've always been more of a soldier.

  I chuckled and hung my head. “Flora,” I said. No point playing coy. I wasn't in the MC anymore, he couldn't tell me not to go.

  “You're a sucker for lost causes, but this... She must be something special, huh?”

  Staring at myself in the mirror, I saw my helpless grin. “I guess so.”

  After another long pause, Remy added, “I'm sure Star would love to meet the woman that could tame you. You got a plan?”

  A plan?

  I turned the ignition. The dump truck roared to life like an awakened, vengeful god. Although the sound was muted by the windows being rolled up, the fury of power in the machine was undeniable. When I gave the beast some gas, it felt like I was driving a landslide.

  Subtlety is overrated, I thought, smashing through the gate.

  Hang on, you silly girl, the cavalry’s coming.

  “Nope,” I laughed. “But I'm going to make a hell of a lot of noise.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Flora

  The sun was high in the sky when I rolled up Brentwood. Knowing how close I was, my hands began sweating on the bike handles. After all this time, and all this torture, I'd finally made it.

  This was where my sister was being held.

  The humidity weighed me down. How could it be so warm in October? Bugs were chirping, not caring it wasn't night time. I'd noticed the grasses growing taller, thicker, the closer I got the the crossroads. Here, with my destination cresting in the distance, the Everglades were in full bloom.

  They surrounded the area, choking everything in their path. They almost blocked me from my first glimpse of where Claudine was. The place that was apparently called, 'The Palace.'

  Stopping the motorcycle, I gaped at the house.

  No.

  Not a house.

  A fucking mansion.

  Is this for real? Baffled, I hopped off of the bike. In my mind, I'd imagined an awful, broken down warehouse. Or maybe just something more filthy. This building was gorgeous, it reminded me of the plantation style houses I'd see in real estate magazines, but never in person. Even on the drive here, Ronin and I had seen nothing as grand as this.

  Guiding the bike into the grass, I tucked it away. Driving up onto the front lawn was reckless, and I'd come too far to make any mistakes. Hiding the vehicle would help insure our get away, as well. I was intent on not messing Claudine's jail-break up.

  Slinking through the sharp green blades, I approached the house warily.

  Towards the front porch, I could hear the telltale voices of men laughing. Craning my neck, I counted five of them, all hanging out and either smoking or talking. On their chests were vests, and though I couldn't read the patches, I knew by now who they were.

  The Knights.

  Their weapons glinted in the sun, hanging off their shoulders on straps. I didn't know the brand of gun, but they looked like they'd tear a truck into pieces.

  If they saw me, there'd be nothing left of my body when they were done.

  Nibbling my thumbnail, I considered the outside of the mansion. If they were guarding the front door, how was I going to get inside? Fighting them was stupid, I'd never stand a chance. I need an opening, I need...

  There, chest level along one long stretch of siding, was a window.

  Darting another nervous look at the men, I began to breathe faster. Could I make it? The distance between me and the mansion was big enough that the guards would have plenty of time to see me approaching.

  I wished it was night time. But I couldn't wait till it got dark, that would be hours away. What if more men showed up?

  Just move slow. They're watching the road, not over here. It was true; I'd slipped up on the side closest to the water, and the bikers were clearly keeping an eye out for big vehicles, not small, sneaky people like me.

  Crouching, I scampered over the yard. Each step I took drove nails into my blood. I expected the men to turn my way, to hear my pounding heart from where they were.

  Pressing against the white paint, I took a rattling breath. My adrenaline was at full blast, my shirt sticking to my flushed skin. I did it! They hadn't seen me.

  Reaching up, I tested the windowsill, expecting it to be locked. Things had been too easy. Surely that would change?

  Don't jinx yourself.

  The window c
racked open, and I bit back a surprised laugh. With a final glance around, I leaned on my toes, peering into the mansion. I could see a long hallway, oil paintings and reddish walls, but no patrolling bikers.

  Deciding this was my lucky break, I scrambled over the edge. Inside, the mansion was oddly quiet. The gentle, mechanical whirl of air conditioning whispered through the air like a lost spirit. Someone was paying a lot of money to cool a gigantic building like this.

  Creeping along the carpet, my hand on my gun, I listened for any tiny noise. My own breathing kept me on edge, the loudest sound in the place. As I walked along, peering back over my shoulder a million times, I saw a few doors waiting ahead.

  Cracking one, I made enough space for just my eye. Inside it was dim, but even with the shadows, I could see the shapes of two people on a bed. The springs squealed, an insistent, obscene racket they told me they were having sex.

  To my left, a man hunched over a desk. In one wet snort, he sucked up a line of white powder.

  With my stomach coiling into a small tangle, I backed away, returning to my search.

  Most of the rooms were empty, as if there was a party happening somewhere else. Or, like the owners are all on vacation. That wasn't a good thought. Though I'd seen guards outside, maybe I was too late. Maybe Claudine and the other women had been shipped off.

  Defeat absorbed into me, battling with my nerves. Staying upbeat was a challenge, the ever present silence slicing into my sanity. On and on, I peered behind doors, occasionally encountering a lock. Soon, every room in the hall was stuck, not yielding to my tugs.

  Every room...

  But one.

  Under my palm, the knob twisted. I jerked, actually shocked after the endless row of stuck ones. This door sat near the end of the hall, before the passage took a hard turn to who knew where.

  Licking my lips, I shivered, reaching out to push on the wood. I expected to find more seedy activity, because so far, that was all this mansion had presented me with.

  Tall ceilings hung with sparkling chandeliers. It was wide, spacious; a kind of ball room, except this place was far more devious. Instead of dancers, several half-naked girls waited for me. Some were lying down, others propped against the walls limply. There were multiple tables, gorgeous old wood that was now covered in a plethora of white gold.