by Marata Eros
KNOT
A Road Kill MC Novella
Volume 2
New York Times Bestselling author
MARATA EROS
All Rights Reserved.
Copyright © 2016 Marata Eros
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to a legitimate retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
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Cover art by Willsin Rowe
Editing suggestions provided by Red Adept Editing.
CONTENTS
Synopsis
DEDICATION
Works by Tamara Rose Blodgett
1
2
3
4
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
MARATA EROS NEWS
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Synopsis
Torture
Rose has a job. To protect her nephew, Charlie. A hot motorcycle thug isn't enough of a reason to get in the way of that.
Except the one who saves her from a torture so vile, she doesn't know who she is anymore.
Drake is determined to take Charlie from her, and he'll play dirty to do it.
Noose is just as determined to protect her from the Road Kill's number one rival MC.
Can he do it when she denies his protection?
Rose will not end up like her sister Anna.
Dead.
Rose soon discovers there are worse things than death.
Circumstance
Noose's life has been turned upside down.
Rose Christo is more than she seems, and involved in way more than she should be.
When a certain Chaos Rider kidnaps her as a means of coercion, Noose finds he's willing to tie a knot especially for Diablo, aka Drake.
Not to kill—to warn.
But Noose wasn't put on this blue marble to warn men who threaten his property.
Even if the woman that's his property, doesn't know it.
DEDICATION
Christine Stanley
Works by Tamara Rose Blodgett:
The BLOOD Series
The DEATH Series
Shifter ALPHA CLAIM 1-6
The REFLECTION Series
The SAVAGE Series
Vampire ALPHA CLAIM 1-6
&
Marata Eros:
A Terrible Love (New York Times bestseller)
A Brutal Tenderness
The Darkest Joy
Club Alpha
The DARA NICHOLS Series, 1-8
The DEMON Series
The DRUID Series
Road Kill MC
Shifter ALPHA CLAIM 1-6
The SIREN Series
The TOKEN Serial
Vampire ALPHA CLAIM 1-6
The ZOE SCOTT Series 1-8
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1
Noose
Saturday
I groan, fingertips biting into a sharp surface.
Road.
I'd know the feel of that anywhere.
My eyes crank open. Vision sucks, warped and blurry.
I roll over from my hands and knees and sit hard on my ass.
Fuck. Me.
I shake my head. “Shit,” I mutter. Not good.
After doing the fucking dumb, I keep my head still and blink rapidly, and finally, my surroundings come into focus.
Twilight has kissed the day goodbye, and streetlights have begun flickering to life like startled fireflies in the trenching gloom.
The interior dome light of the truck is on but dimly lit. Fucking door's been open for too damn long is why. The truck's battery sucks.
Rose!
Gooseflesh rises like insect hills on my flesh, hammering my adrenaline into overdrive.
I lurch to a standing position and sort of heave myself at the bed of the truck. My fingers latch on to the truck bed's rail, and my eyes shoot around.
People walk by; a few give me the odd glance as I hang on to keep from falling on my ass again.
My fingers shake as I cautiously feel for the wound on my head. Right there. I wince. Nice.
My head throbs, and my stomach rolls in a slick wave of heat.
Rose.
That fucker Diablo has her.
My hands flatten against the outside of my pants as I pat myself down, looking for my cell.
Nothing.
Turning, I scan the parking lot through my swimming vision, shutting the car door as I do. A clear rectangle winks back at me in the unnatural circle of light cast by the streetlight.
I walk in an unsteady gait to the phone and sink to my knees, stifling a moan as my vision blurs in streamers of color. I hit the button at the lowest point of the cell with my thumb, and my home page rises.
I thumb swipe contacts.
Snare's name is second from the top. I press the receiver symbol, and when it begins to ring, I snatch it off the ground and hold it against my ear.
My knees hit the pavement, and I suck in a raw inhale.
“Yo.”
“Snare.”
“What is this? Why you callinʼ man? Weird as fuck. Thought you'd be straightening out old Rosie, getting some clam sandwich…”
A wave of dizziness assaults me. “Shut the fuck up.”
“Gee-zus, calm the righteous fuck down.”
Yeah. “Diablo's got Rose. Clubbed me in the head with—” I can't remember dick and gloss over the details. “With whatever, and my brains are scrambled. Get your ass down here and help me.”
I hear a feminine voice in the background then a lot of lip work happening.
“Nah,” Snare pauses. Suck, lick—groan. “No, baby, you're good, but a brother's in trouble.”
Jesus—interrupting a blow job. “Snare!”
“Yeah! Fuck you, ass, I'll be right there. Where are ya?”
“Scenic Hill Park.”
“Truck okay?”
I hear him moving through the club. AC/DC is screaming about dynamite as he walks by a speaker. Girls laugh and glasses clink with ice entombed by liquor.
I jerk to a stand and shuffle to the truck, using my hand as balance. I walk my ass around the truck's hood, tear open the door, and turn the key.
A loud click is the only reply. I hit the hood with my fist. Hurts. My vision triples with the abrupt motion.
Goddammit.
“No. Fucking dead.”
A motorcycle revs. “I'm on my way.”
“Thanks.”
My phone goes dark with a thumb swipe. I slide my cell into the back pocket of my jeans and look around more carefully. A tan-colored hairband catches my eye, sitting in a lonely circle a few feet from where my cell was.
I cautiously walk toward it, heart hammering and bile rising.
Bending down, I scoop it up.
Rich, honey-colored strands of hair cling to the fabric.
*
Snare rolls in, and the kickstand is slin
ging out before he stops. He kills the engine and settles the cruiser.
His eyes go everywhere but me for a solid minute, taking in the lay of the land. Finally, that glacial gaze finds my slouched form.
“You look like hell.”
Figured.
Not that another hole in my head matters. It's that I can’t perform—or get Rose back before that sadistic fucker touches her.
I close my eyes. Maybe he already has.
“Probably need to see a doctor for that love tap.”
I peer at him through slitted eyelids. “Fuck that.”
Snare snorts a laugh. “That's about right, you stubborn asshole.” He smirks. “Headache, nausea, seeing stars?”
All of the above. “Can it. What rock do the Chaos Riders hide under?”
Snare palms his chin. “Viper would know. He's the one who keeps a thumb in all the MC pies. I just make sure we're protected.”
I lift my knuckles, and he barely taps them. “Thanks, brother.”
“You knew it might come to this, Noose. This fucker wants her, wants that kid worse. Figures the only way to get the kid is to intimidate Rose.” Snare's eyes hold me prisoner. “He won't kill her.”
We look at each other. Both of us know how much can be done short of killing someone.
So much.
I notice Snare didn't say he wouldn't hurt Rose. Oh yeah. He'll fucking hurt her all right. Any guy willing to kill the mother of his own kid would do any-fucking-thing.
I can't stand Rose being in his hands and out of my protection.
Snare studies me. “I'll call Viper.”
The Prez can point us in the right direction.
But the map better come quick.
*
Snare swipes his cell. “Viper says we need more brothers.”
“Shit,” I hiss. Time. Time to coordinate, plan, and execute. Rose doesn't have that time.
She's with Diablo.
The hearing is Tuesday.
He'll fucking exact his torture and return her in enough time to recuperate and not look like she was beaten in places that don't show for an audience.
Maybe he'll rape her. I scrub my face with a palm. Definitely.
“Get outta your head, brother. This doesn't help Rose.”
I release my grip on the truck and can almost hear its sigh of relief. Snare grabs jumper cables, walks to the hood, and feels for the release.
The latch pops, and I hop behind the wheel.
A few seconds roll by. I grind my teeth.
“ʼKay, try it.”
I turn the key, and a sick winding noise screams from underneath the dented metal.
“Kill it.”
I sit there, elbow hanging out the window, eyes burning holes through the hood, wanting a smoke so bad, I can taste the tobacco on my tongue.
The rumble of Snare's bike idles as I sit like a coiled snake inside the truck. Ready to strike at anything. Anyone.
Minutes feel like hours.
“Again.”
I turn the key. The engine roars to life, and I gently tap the accelerator.
Snare shuts the hood, and I grimace at the noise as pain flares through my skull.
He comes around to the driver's side and claps the opening where the window rolls up and down. Bright-blue eyes shrewdly gauge my mood.
It's a black fucker.
“I know you want to Lone Ranger this shit, Noose.”
“You got that.”
“You can't.” He swings his palms wide. “That fucker Diablo will be abso-fucking-lutely expecting that maneuver. I'll hand it to ya; it's a slick way to commit suicide. Creative.” He nods, a sloppy grin on his face.
I scowl at him.
He laughs. “Listen, I know you've got it bad for this girl.”
I can't hardly get out of that truth, so I don't bother. “Yeah.”
“So let's be smart.” His eyebrows rise, and he taps his temple.
I tramp on the gas. Maybe I can drown the fucker out.
Snare shouts over the engine. “Gonna go see Viper. He'll have a plan. He's calling emergency church. Get Road Kill behind you, Noose. You know it's the only way to get her back.”
Nope. Heard him just fine.
I hate that Snare is right. I hate that fucker having Rose. I'm wasting precious time nursing my fogged brain and waiting for this heap of shit to regain battery power.
“I know it seems like a time suck—”
“Yeah.”
Snare grunts. “But we gotta have brains goinʼ in. Someone's gotta be thinking. And you're not. And ya need stitches. Probably have a concussion.”
“Yeah.”
“Noose.”
I turn and look at Snare, biting the inside of my cheek as pain swarms my thick head.
“I know it's more than pussy, Noose. I got that. But we have one shot to do this right. Only one.”
“Yeah,” I repeat for the millionth time. “It's more than good tail.”
“Then let's handle it right. She's your property, and you didn't know it. But now ya do. No excuses.”
I do know.
“Let me leave the bike—”
I jerk my head back and meet his stare. He must be like real blood to leave his bike behind. “No. I'll drive this hunk of shit and follow you.”
“Sure?” His eyebrow whips up.
“Yeah. Just drive slow. I feel like I've slammed ten shots.” I don't mention the part where they're all begging to come back up for an encore performance.
Snare takes me at my word, turning on his heel, and heads back toward his bike with the jumper cables hanging from his hands like tame black and red snakes. Nature's warning of poison, I think randomly.
I throw the truck in reverse and carefully pull out of the parking stall.
I don't kick myself in the teeth for not noticing the danger before it broadsided me. I was literally into her. Everything had narrowed to Rose under my hands—and her pussy split by my dick.
Rose was counting on me. So much for my offer of protection. She'll never want me now.
If there's anything left of Rose to want anything.
I take a deep, steadying breath then let it out and suck another. My gaze latches on to the red taillights I follow like eyes leading me straight to hell.
The sick thud of my head pulses in time with my heart.
I keep on. I'm going back to the club. Gonna gather my brothers, and we're gonna get Rose back.
I can still taste her on my mouth, feel her smoothness beneath my fingertips, and remember the way her mouth milked me of every drop of my cum.
I don't know when I fell for her.
Now that I think about it, I think it was over for me before me and Rose even began.
She looked at me.
Just one look.
Love at first sight is bullshit.
Until it happens to your ass.
2
Rose
I move my head.
My stomach immediately revolts, and I roll to my side, vomiting. Pain explodes through my head as I throw up helplessly.
I scoot away from the steaming mess I just made and wipe a shaky hand over my mouth.
“Fuck this, Diablo. You've gone over the fucking top—kidnapping a citizen? One you can be—” a man's voice I don't recognize yells at Drake.
“Shut your fucking piehole, or I will.”
I open my eyes. My vision’s hazy, so I close them.
When I open them, Drake and another guy are arguing. I blink and cough.
Their faces turn to me.
“Fucking puked everywhere. Goddamn,” Drake bites out.
“Probably gave the bitch a fucking concussion, dumbass. You can't clock a woman like you do a man.”
Nice to know there's a difference of strength needed when abusing a woman.
I push my upper body up and sort of crawl to the nearest wall, only about three feet away. I rest my shoulders against the cool concrete and stifle a sigh of relief. There's just som
ething so much better about being upright.
Lying on a floor with a circle of vomit around me, I'm at Drake's mercy. And as far as I know, Drake doesn't have any.
The other man looks me over. Brown eyes and dark hair frame a face too angular to be handsome, but isn’t easy to forget, either.
Not that I want anyone to pay attention to me here.
“Hot, even with the puke.”
Oh God.
Drake snorts. “Yeah. But a goddamned thorn in my side.”
“She the one who's got your property?”
Drake nods. “Not for long. Gonna teach the snatch some manners, then she's gonna comply.”
Comply.
I set my teeth. My skull is a mass of agony, and my stomach burns with lack of food, glucose overdose, adrenaline drain, and a sound hit to the head.
I feel terrible, but my mind's in sharp focus.
This man is a demon in the flesh.
He wants Charlie. There's no force of nature that will give him what he wants.
“You were still a fucking ’tard to take her.”
“Bitch wasn't listening to reason. Had to go hard.”
The other man puts his hands on his hips. “You went hard, all right.”
“Puck, shut the fuck up. I mean it. I'm a brother, and we stand behind brothers.”
Puck of the dark, villainous looks peers at me again. “I do stand behind all my brothers in the Chaos Riders, but I didn't sign up for beating and torturing chicks.”
“What's the fucking difference? We run girls.” Drake gives a dismissive shrug.
Puck jabs his thumb in his chest. “I don't. I patched in before the trafficking. Now I'm in for life, but I'm not doing that to chicks.”
“They're all cunts, Puck.”
