Her Rough Mountain Outlaw: Blackthorn Mountain Men, book 6

by Faye, Madison

  Families, all of them. And then me, the new guy.

  The outsider.

  The outlaw.

  But shit, it suited me just fine. I was used to the role. I was used to being on the road, one foot out the door. I didn’t even know if Blackthorn was where I’d end up forever, but for now, it was home.

  And home is where she’d be safe

  I’d left trouble behind years before, and I’d sworn off of it after the events that brought me here to Blackthorn.

  I smirked to myself again.

  But then, here I was – cradling a hurt fugitive as I roared down the mountain road to my place. A gorgeous hurt fugitive. And I was about to involve myself all over whatever trouble she was mixed up in.

  But she needed help, and my place was the best spot for her now – to help her, to protect her. My arms tightened around her, holding her close to me as I pulled off the mountain road off to one of the side roads.

  Fuck, she felt good.

  Warm, that body so tight in all the right places and so soft in all the others. And damned if my cock didn’t react. Shit. A hard-on was hardly the appropriate reaction to racing through the rain with a wounded fugitive away from the cops, but it couldn’t be helped. My cock swelled in my jeans, throbbing against that tight little ass as the engine roared.

  But hell, I knew I shouldn’t go there. Not with her. Not when it was clear she had trouble following her.

  …But then, me and trouble? Well, we went way back. Me and trouble were old friends.

  And me and her?

  Well, we might’ve been strangers. But that was about to change.

  …Big time.

  3

  Jackie

  The engine roared like thunder under me, and the biker’s powerful arms wrapped around me, holding me tight.

  …Good God, a girl could get used to this.

  It has been WAY too long, girl.

  I winced at the voice inside my head, even if it was completely right. Yeah, it had been way way too long. So long that I didn’t even remember what it felt like for a man’s hands to slide over my body. What lips surrounded by rough, masculine stubble tasted like. How the smell of man just did something to me - got in under my skin and set something on fire deep down.

  But there, with him?

  Oh, it was coming back all right. First it was the smell of him - this masculine mix of leather and engine and woods that made my freaking head spin more than the damn car crash. And the feel of those powerful arms holding me, and the that rock hard body he was holding me against?

  Oh hell yes was it coming back.

  But then, his hard chest and washboard abs weren’t the only “hard” thing I could feel. But that other thing? Well, no way. That had to be something in his pocket or part of the bike or something. There was no way what I was feeling throbbing right against my ass was, well, that.

  Yeah, it’d been way too long since this lady had, well, gotten any. But that was entirely by choice. Well, at least sort of by choice. Darrel hadn’t touched me for years unless it was to lay bruises on me or throw me across the room. but after I’d finally walked out and gotten those divorce papers signed, it’s not like I’d suddenly decided to “be single” again, in the way people might think.

  Yeah, no.

  I mean, with Brooke? Well, it’s not exactly like dates were lining up to take me out when they knew I had a seven-year-old at home. Or maybe they knew about my shithead of an ex - a cop known for breaking skulls.

  Gee, I can’t imagine why I hadn’t been getting dates.

  But that suited me fine. Who the hell had the time to date with a seven-year-old? I’d had Brooke young, and I had absolutely zero regrets about that, even if my choice in mate back then was sketchy to say the least.

  But Brooke was - is- the best thing that’d ever happened to me. That doesn’t mean it wasn’t a lot of work, though. I pulled fifty hours a week minimum at The Dugout - the sports bar I worked at. The place was mostly a dive, but the money was really good, especially for just pouring beers and slinging shots of whiskey all day. Hell it was way better than the place I’d worked at with Larkin.

  Having Brooke when I was eighteen also meant I hadn’t gone to college. Again, I had zero regrets, but it was what it was. This was how I made a life for us, especially after I’d finally gotten a divorce from Darrel.

  I have to call Brooke.

  Panic set in for a moment, and the heady rush of roaring down a mountain road in a thunderstorm with a gorgeous, rough, kinda scary-but-in-a-totally-sexy way biker turned into something else. Suddenly, it was like the fantasy I’d found myself in was giving way, and the reality of what’d actually just happened to me was starting to sink in.

  I had to call my daughter, and tell her I was okay. I knew it wasn’t even like she’d think anything wasn’t okay, and I knew she was safe as could be with her aunt. They were over the state line, which mean even Darrel and his crooked cop friends couldn’t touch her.

  Yeah, Brooke was completely safe, I knew that. But I had to tell her I was okay, and that I was going to be… I frowned. What, late? I almost laughed. No, “late” was a flat tire. Or traffic. Or maybe getting lost. But my car was still in a ditch. And here I’d jumped onto a freaking motorcycle with a complete freaking stranger.

  …Like an insane person.

  Sure he’d rescued me, but I didn’t know who the hell he was or what he was after. And suddenly, I realized I didn’t even know where we were going.

  Fear started to shiver through me.

  The trees were growing thicker as we drove. The lights were growing dimmer, and the houses and buildings further apart.

  …Wait, where the fuck were we going?”

  Suddenly, the absurdity of the situation hit me all at once, and I freaked. I screamed twisting in the man’s arms, trying to break free of this complete stranger. Yes, this ridiculously hot, muscled stranger, but a strange nonetheless.

  I tried to yank away from him, and he hissed as the bike swerved under us.

  “Whoa! Whoa!!” He roared, his arms flexing, muscles rippling as he wrestled back control of the thundering bike.

  “Are you fucking crazy?” He yelled over the sound of the wind and the engine. My pulse thundered through me, and I twisted again, squirming against him like I was somehow just going to jump off a moving motorcycle.

  “Get me off!” I screamed. But the biker ignored me, or didn’t hear me, but I was guessing it was the first one.

  “I said, let me-!”

  “I heard you!” He roared, swearing as he downshifted, yanked the handlebars, and skidded us to a stop on the shoulder of the road near the thick, dark trees.

  I jumped off the second we came to a stop, whirling and backing away from him. My pulse roared, my skin tingling with the adrenaline of the crash, and then him, and the wild ride I’d just jumped off of. Rain crashed in sheets over both of us, my clothes sticking to me like wet paper and my hair slicked to the sides of my head and down over my shoulders as I backed away from the biker.

  “The fuck is wrong with you!” He growled, swinging a leg off the bike and narrowing his eyes at me. “You have any idea how fucking fast we were just going? In the rain?”

  “Where are you taking me!” I shot back, swallowing thickly. My eyes danced over him, seeing him really for the first time standing right in front of me.

  …Okay, somewhat scary looking biker strangers had no business being that attractive. That wasn’t even fair.

  The man was huge - easily six foot four, with broad, defined, muscled shoulders pulling his plain black t-shirt tight across a muscled chest. The soaked shirt clung to every single muscled groove and chiseled line of his torso like a second skin, and I felt the heat tease through me as my eyes drank in his stupidly perfect body.

  A sleeve of tattoos ran down one arm, and when he brought a hand up to rake his fingers across a chiseled, stubbled jaw, I swallowed again. Perfect lips. And I do mean perfect masculine lips. And above the
m, theses steely blue eyes that pierced right through me even from then ten or so feet away from me he was.

  He looked rough. He looked tempting as sin. He looked dangerous, and he looked like trouble.

  …And I wanted every single bit of him.

  I shook my head, trying to clear those filthy, insane thoughts from my head as we squared off, the storm raging around us on the side of that mountain road.

  “Where the hell are you taking me!?”

  “To get you help,” he growled back. “I don’t know how hard you hit your head, but you do remember that you were just in a car wreck, right?”

  I wasn’t confused, but he wasn’t wrong. I had hit my head. I’d hit a lot, judging from the throbbing bruises I could feel swelling across my body.

  “Is this the way to the hospital? Further up this mountain road?”

  His look hardened, and I shivered.

  “Are you taking me to a hospital or not,” I said thickly, forcing my voice not to quaver.

  The man’s jaw tightened, and he crossed his muscled arms across his large chest.

  “You want to go to the hospital, sweetheart?”

  “Well, like you just said, I was just in a car accid-”

  “And I can fix you, but you’re ignoring the question,” he growled.

  I chewed at my bottom lip. I knew why I was avoiding his question. Because a hospital meant cops. And cops meant Darrel.

  …No hospital then.

  “Look,” he muttered, shoving his fingers through his wet hair, those eyes sparking fire and those tattoos rippling across the muscles of his arm.

  “I don’t know what you did, but I know someone trying to avoid the cops when I see it.”

  I frowned. “I’m not trying to-”

  “Girl,” he chuckled darkly, shaking his head. He took a step closer to me. I trembled, but I didn’t move away. I didn’t step back.

  “And I know bullet holes in a car when I see ‘em.”

  I tried to roll my eyes. “Bullet holes? Please, I don’t know what you’re trying to imply, but whatever you think you saw, I can promise you-”

  His hand slid down to the bottom of his shirt, and before I even knew what he was doing, he was tugging the soaking wet garment up.

  Oh yes please.

  He peeled the wet black cotton up, revealing abs like whoa - like they were chiseled out of freaking marble. There were swirls and lines of tattoo ink, and then-

  …Oh my God.

  Holes. Well, scars, but so many of them. Scars the same shape and size as the holes I knew were in the back of my car, only these were peppered across those perfect abs and his ribs.

  “Tell me again I don’t know what I’m saying right now,” he growled quietly, stepping even closer to me.

  “I-” I faltered, fear not for him but for everything else swirling around my life right then suddenly crashing into me all at once. Darrel, and being shot at, and crashing, and worrying about Brooke - all of it hit me like a metal pipe, and suddenly, I felt like I was drowning in that rain.

  “I- I don’t know what to do,” I whispered. His eyes hardened, and he dropped his shirt back down as he stepped towards me.

  “You come with me, and I get you fixed up. I keep you safe. And then we go from there.” He was standing right in front of me, looming over my much smaller frame as those piercing blue-grey eyes burned right into mine.

  “Does that sound okay?”

  My head spun. My pulse hammered through me.

  …He was so close.

  God he’s gorgeous.

  My head spun again, and this time when I swayed, I half stepped into him. He moved faster than I’d ever have imagined, his arms instantly wrapping around me, holding me tight as I half-fell against his ripped, muscled body. Those big arms held me tight, and suddenly, Darrel, the crash, the rain, the bullets - all of it faded away. Suddenly, I just felt so safe - safer than I’d felt in years.

  “I’m not gonna hurt you, baby girl,” my stranger growled into my hair, pulling me close to him as the rain crashed down around us.

  “But I am going to protect you.”

  His muscles rippled against me, and slowly, I sank into him. The adrenaline, the fear, the insanity of the crash and from running from Darrel - suddenly, all of it hit me like a sack of bricks. All of it came crashing right into me, and I felt myself sway. My head spun, my heart pounding as I slowly looked up into his eyes as those big, powerful arms held me so gently.

  And then, before I could stop myself - before I could laugh at how insane I was or question just how hard I’d hit my head - I was kissing him.

  Hard.

  Fiercely.

  And like a complete psycho.

  4

  Stone

  Fuck the storm. Fuck the lightning crashing overhead, the rain pouring down all around us. Fuck whatever danger was chasing her down, and whatever she’d been running from. And hell, forget whatever I’d been running from. Fuck the demons that still kept me up at night, clawing at my dreams. Fuck the past, and the bullets that’d almost put me in the ground.

  One second - one kiss, and I was lost.

  One touch of her lips, and the whole damn world shifted on its axis, and the only lightning was the one exploding through me. I groaned into her, my blood like fire, my skin blazing to life. Something in my heart switching on that I wasn’t sure I’d ever felt before. Those pillowy lips of hers searing to mine, those soft moans vibrating through me, and the taste of her tongue on mine, and I was done for.

  Shattered, put back together, and made whole, all by her.

  I knew I should stop. I knew I should back away. After all, she was hurt. She’d hit her head - I mean shit, she was probably half delirious or confused or something and here I was fucking kissing her like a psycho. And then there was whatever she’d been running from. I’d seen her headlights coming around the bend towards me - I’d seen the speed they’d been going, and seen the crazy way they’d zigged and zagged before she’d gone off the road.

  …Something was after her. I knew someone avoiding the authorities when I saw them. Just like I knew what bullet holes in the back of a car looked like. Just like I knew kissing a girl with that kind of shit nipping at her heels and with that sort of baggage lurking in the shadows was bad news. Just like I knew getting mixed up with a gorgeous little temptation like her was all sorts of trouble I didn’t need.

  There were a million very good reasons not to kiss her. But then, those lips? The way she moaned into me? The way her body responded to mine, both of us soaking wet? The way she clung to me so desperately.

  The way her lips tasted?

  Yeah, all very good reasons to keep on kissing her. Which is exactly what I did. I groaned, kissing her hard and deep, claiming that mouth as mine. Fuck I didn’t know where she came from, or hell, who she came from.

  But that didn’t matter, because with one kiss? Well, with one kiss, she was mine now.

  Finders keepers. I’d found her, and I was going to damn well keep her, no matter the consequences. No matter the darkness chasing her down.

  Mine.

  We broke away panting, our eyes wild as they locked on each other. My brow furrowed, and I moved close, peering at the cut on her face I was just now seeing. Fuck, she was still bleeding.

  “We need to get you dry, and patched up,” I growled. My hands slid around her waist, not letting her go - like she might slip away in that storm if I didn’t hold on tight.

  She suddenly pushed her hand into the pocket of her jeans, yanking out a cellphone. But when she pushed at the screen, it stayed dark, and even from where I was, I could see the jagged lines of broken glass across it.

  “Fuck,” she swore, whirling and groaning at the phone in her hand.

  “You need to call someone?”

  “Yeah, my…” she turned. “I need to get somewhere with a phone. I…” She shook her head. “I don’t know what I’m doing,” she whispered quietly. “Out here, I- I don’t even know you.”


  “Look,” I said, my voice steely and rough. “I’ll take you to a damn hospital right now if you-”

  “No,” she said quickly, shaking her head. “The cops…”

  She frowned, wincing as she looked down.

  “You don’t gotta tell me, darlin’,” I growled. “And I don’t need to know.”

  Slowly, she nodded, still looking down. She chewed on her lip as the rain poured over us, lightning crashing across the dark mountain sky before she dragged her eyes back up to mine.

  “I’ll go with you, I just…” she blushed. “Who are you?”

  I grinned, my arms sliding around her as I leaned in and kissed her softly once again. She moaned quietly into my mouth, panting as I nipped at her bottom lip before pulling back.

  “Stone,” I growled. “My name is Stone.”

  “Jackie,” she whispered back.

  I was about to open my mouth, when suddenly, something in the back of my head tingled

  Jackie.

  I frowned. “Larkin’s friend?”

  She blinked, her eyes going wide enough to let me know I’d been right.

  What the fuck are the odds?

  What the hell were the odds? That I’d be driving that same road, at that exact time? That I’d see that wreck, and drag her on out of there, and for her to be that Jackie? I’d only heard it in passing back at Axe and Ryker’s garage, but apparently, some chick Larkin had used to waitress with or something was coming to stay at Blackthorn for a bit. I hadn’t heard the details, but that name stuck for some reason.

  And fuck me, there she was, standing right in front of me in the rain - gorgeous, tempting, vulnerable and fierce, all at the same time.

  “I’m a friend of her and Axe’s.”

  Jackie’s brow furrowed, her teeth worrying her lip, like she was trying to debate the options of staying there on the side of the road hurt and alone, or coming with me, the rough-looking stranger. And hell, I knew I could say I knew her friend a hundred times, but it still didn’t make me any less of a stranger in her eyes.