Outlaw's Obsession

by Nicole Snow

  The less sure I was about him, the harder I clung to his waist. I saw my face in the rear view mirror, trying to keep it together.

  He wanted me. I wasn't blind to it. What I couldn't figure out was why.

  I'd seen the kind of women outlaw bikers hung around when I had the bar, the same women dad had flings with when he used to ride. Most of these guys only wanted trashy looking whores with big boobs and gumball butts, their lips painted every pornographic shade I could imagine, and several I couldn't until I actually saw them.

  The old ladies were sweet – at least for the good, lucky men. They stood by their guys with their knockout looks and hearts like nails, ready for an endless power dance, treating their brands as seriously as wedding rings when the love was really special.

  It was beautiful when it was done right. I didn't know what Rabid was looking for – maybe more than a hard night of fucking – but I couldn't get over why.

  What the hell did he see in me? Big Ed and the other bastards in Klamath shredded my confidence, and their dead national President stole my looks. It was gone before they ruined my beauty. I barely cried and screamed when Fang slid the blade across my face.

  Somehow, I knew I was destined to suffer. Call it bad karma for getting too deep into a lifestyle that was never meant for me.

  I thought I was tough, ready to grab the world by the throat, when I went north to start my bar. The world had showed me instead, and now it was slowly choking my life away, piece by brutal piece.

  Of course, some of these biker dudes were twisted. It took more than balloon tits and sugary lipstick to turn their crank. Maybe Rabid was one of them.. Maybe he got a hard-on for scarred chicks, and I was supposed to be his latest fetish conquest.

  To hell with that! I wasn't anybody's conquest, whore, slut, or girl. I wasn't desperate. I was perfectly content to live out my days all alone, maybe see what the world had to offer in the way of nice, boring dudes who worked in cubicles and left the stink of motor oil to their mechanics.

  Badasses were fun to look at, and even more fun to ride. But they weren't good for me. I'd never be anything more than a toy for a man like Rabid, and an intact heart was all I had left to my name.

  I swore I'd keep it that way too, temptation be damned.

  The bike slowed as we approached an old dirt road. It coiled around to an abandoned ranch, some place he was clearly familiar with.

  “Jesus, Rabid. I knew you wanted privacy, but I didn't think we'd be going so remote.” Staring up at the stars beginning to sparkle in the sky made me want to eat my words.

  The middle of nowhere could sure be beautiful.

  “Thought it'd be calming. It's easy not to get pissed and talk like rational people when the scenery's pretty.” He got off the bike, unfastening his helmet, and then taking my own.

  I grudgingly took the hand he extended to help me off his Harley. We walked toward one of the old buildings, a storage shed that had seen better days, judging by the holes ripped in the sheet metal.

  “This bench is still good. We won't fall through it.” He pointed to an old wooden loveseat near the back.

  It was the kind that had a little swing to it when you sat down. The hinges creaked, but not nearly as bad as I expected based on the age.

  “Okay. So, tell me, what is it I need to say to convince you I'm a big girl who can take care of herself?”

  “Start by telling me the truth, Christa. Nobody thought you had any connections to this club before Big Ed showed up. Shit, even Fang's old goons who turned to our side acted like they didn't have a clue who you were. There's history here. Don't bullshit me about it.”

  “Yeah, history. Not with the Redding charter. You're wrong about that,” I said, locking eyes with him. “I spent a few years north of here. I wanted to be free and wild, get away from living with my father. I had some cash saved up, so I started up a biker bar outside Klamath Falls. Always thought it'd be a stepping stone to bigger and better things.”

  “Shit.” His eyebrows quirked up. “I never would've guessed you for a biker chick.”

  “Born and raised. Dad spent twenty years in the Klondike Killers. He rode with them all the time when he wasn't out fishing Alaska's short summers. He retired his colors as soon as he came to Grizzlies territory, though.” I didn't mention the Alzheimer's.

  I wasn't going to lay all my cards out for him. Only the ones that were relevant to get him off my back.

  “Holy fuck, baby. Those guys were badasses. Grizzlies used to do business with them outta Seattle and Bellingham before everything went to pieces. Damn good thing the crazy fucks never expanded past the Yukon.” He shook his head, then fixed those bright honey colored eyes on me again. “That still doesn't explain why the fuck you're tangled up with a motherfucker like Ed.”

  “Ew.” I wrinkled my nose. “That's not an image I want. It's not like I ever fucked him.”

  “Come the fuck on,” Rabid growled, something like jealousy lining his face. “You know what I mean. How does he know you?”

  “Well, when I ran the bar, I couldn't do it with what I scrimped and saved as a teen. Even dad's contribution couldn't do the job. No bank was going to loan money to a nineteen year old kid with no business experience and no degree. I went to the only ones who could.”

  He slapped his forehead. “Fuck. Of course. I always heard the crew up there was looking for new fronts to help launder their shit.”

  “And I wouldn't let them,” I said, remembering the blowout arguments with Ed, Rip, and the other Klamath boys who'd nearly cost me my life. “They gave me the loan in the first place because they thought I'd be easy to control. Who better than some little girl they could push around? Except I wouldn't roll over. The money dried up. The bar wasn't bringing in the kinda business it needed to survive, let alone thrive. I couldn't make the payments and my booze dried up. I walked away owing the city a few hundred in licensing fees, plus a little over a hundred thousand to your brothers north of the border.”

  Rabid stood up, his nostrils flaring. “Sonofabitch. This is bad, baby. Real fucking bad. I have to tell the club. We can get those assholes off your back.”

  “No!” I reached out and grabbed his hand. His fist was so hard he could've beaten down the old, rickety farmhouse on the hill in front of us. “I'm taking care of it. Look, we'll both agree Big Ed's a piece of shit. He's a fat, crude bully. I hate dealing with him. He only comes and gives me crap when I've fallen behind on my payments.”

  Rabid spun, pinching my fingers tight in his. “Then let me.”

  “I can't do that...I know about the bad blood in Redding right now. Your club's still going through major changes. I'm not blind, Rabid. I can see you're on edge, a heartbeat away from tearing into them.”

  “Damned straight,” he growled, jerking me out of the seat. “Those fuckers haven't listened to the new officers since we wasted Fang. They fucking spat in Blackjack's face, and now they're not following the protocol for club debts. Redding's our territory. That means everything in it dealing with club biz is our goddamned business first – including anything you owe, babe.”

  No, no, no. This wasn't turning out the way I wanted. The bright, mad spark in his eyes was way too seductive. He gave me hope I never asked for.

  I wanted his protection. I wanted him.

  Hell, I wanted to throw myself at him, scars and all. I wanted to feel his massive arms wrapped around me, savor his energy, his belief in a world that still had black and white without endless, suffocating gray.

  This was dangerous. Very, very bad. If I let him pull me into the dark ink coiling up his arms, I'd never want to leave until I let him drag me to bed. Naked, whimpering, and – worst of all – wanting.

  I couldn't indulge this attraction, no matter how tempting he looked, or how many ways his powerful arms promised to smash Big Ed's ugly face. Sending him and his brothers after Ed would only end in more bloodshed. I couldn't risk their lives, and I definitely couldn't risk dad's when Klamath retalia
ted.

  I took a deep breath. Please, please listen this time. Please.

  “Rabid, look, I can handle this. I've been paying these creeps for years. Ed only shows up to collect when I start to fall behind, like I said. If I keep the money coming, he leaves me alone.”

  “You can't. Shit, babe, I saw the way you're struggling when Missy handed you that cash when she came for her sis. You fucking needed it bad.” He paused, and I lowered my eyes.

  Shameful. Was I that easy to read, or was this man just that tuned into me?

  “Besides, no club gives debtors an extension without a damned good reason. We're outlaws. When we loan money, there's interest in blood and broken bones. Defaulting's a fucking death sentence,” he said, shaking his head. “Baby, you're smart and I'm not gonna treat you like a damned fool. But you're playing with fire here. I'm telling you straight up, this shit's more than you can handle. You're gonna get burned sooner or later if you piss these guys off.”

  “Don't you think I know that?” I snapped, jerking away from him.

  Rabid wasn't taking any shit. He grabbed me by the waist and pulled me close. My face burned. I couldn't tell if the blush in my cheeks was hotter, or if it was the pulse pounding in my temples.

  He sure had a knack for making me angry, ashamed, and totally aroused all at once. Three big As crashing through my system simultaneously, hurtling toward overload.

  “Of course you do,” he thundered in my ear, low and dangerous and so damned close. “You held up like a serious hardass after what Fang did to you. Fuck, after that ordeal, we're the ones who owe you. Granted, it's hard as hell to make the fucks up in Oregon listen to anything right now. I'm talking to Blackjack tomorrow. I'm gonna demand he twists those fuckers' balls 'til your debt's wiped clear. Every charter might have its own business, but you're in our territory. We're the mother charter, dammit, and we run the whole show now.”

  No amount of determination in his voice meant this was any less insane. The reality was something different. The MC was still at war with itself and the Mexican cartels. Rabid's men needed help from their old rivals, the Prairie Devils, just to topple Fang once and for all. They were in no position to wish my six figure debt away without some serious consequences.

  I shook my head so hard it was dizzying. “I'm the one who made the mistakes that landed me in debt. Me, Rabid, nobody else. I'm the only one who should pay.” My scars were burning. It always happened when I forced back tears, leaving me to wonder if my skin would ever totally heal. “You saw what kind of man Ed is. He won't just drop it. He won't be bossed around, and neither will the other men up north. I met them all when they came to my bar. Jesus, if I could take it all back, I would! I never would've run off and acted like a stupid kid!”

  “That's life, baby. We all fuck up sometimes. That doesn't mean you gotta let the past eat you alive. This shit's not like filing Chapter Seven, and you know it. The Klamath fucks won't let you have a second chance 'til you're so worn and beaten, it's no chance at all. That's the fucking problem, and that's why I'm not gonna let them get away with it.”

  He paused. I gasped and shuddered when I felt the hardness between his legs. I'd been leaning into him, and he was like a rock, crazy with desire. We were so alone and isolated out here. Anything could happen if I let it.

  I turned to face him, wishing my face didn't look like a scratched up tomato. He was even more insane than I thought if he was seriously attracted to this. I had nothing to offer him but trouble, a damaged body and a rotten past I hadn't figured out how to reconcile.

  And I hadn't even told him about poor dad.

  Jesus, he was so hard. The thick, throbbing lump in Rabid's pants was a terrible distraction. I should've spit in his face for inserting himself into my life like this, totally uninvited, but all I really wanted to do was drop to my knees and feel his cock in my mouth.

  His eyes burned fiercer than the stars overhead. When my eyes caressed his body, I imagined what his tattoos looked like underneath his clothes. Those big black stripes on his arms probably rolled all the way up, lining the fearsome icons on his chest like all the other bikers I'd seen shirtless.

  This body invited questions, filthy curiosities and wonders, and bathed my brain in fire.

  Would he look more ferocious than the roaring bear inked on his chest when he fucked me? Would I suck his tattooed skin into my mouth and bite down hard when I came? Jesus, would I ever stand up again if I gave in to one night with this dark Adonis pretending to be a man?

  Half the guys in the Redding Grizzlies charter were younger, harder, and hotter than most of the old bastards and greasy criminals who'd visited my bar in Klamath. Without the leather cut and a few less scars on his arms, the man with his hands sliding up my back would've looked like an underwear model.

  But no pretty boy modeling ever smelled like this. I couldn't stop inhaling him, and that only made my breaths more erratic, betraying the insane desire I was desperate to hide.

  No! I couldn't actually let him see how hot he made me. But I couldn't stop myself from shaking when I pushed my face into his chest and inhaled, filling my lungs with badly needed oxygen.

  Pure masculinity caressed my nose. His feel, his smell, his everything burned deep, melting me from the inside-out.

  My body understood, even if my mind didn't. This was a warrior man right down to every molecule. Loyal to his club, comrade to his brothers, ready to serve and protect me when I wanted none of it. Also, more than ready to slip inside me, making my body shake and scream in ways I'd never even heard of.

  Fuck.

  “What? What the fuck is it?” he growled, his hot breath pouring across my neck and up my ear again.

  Too much. I pushed against his chest, stumbling backward in the night. The jerky motion combined with the sudden breeze blowing in behind me, forcing me to realize how tingly and wet I'd become.

  Holy, holy shit. I hadn't been this soaked for a man since...I couldn't even remember. Probably ever.

  “I need to go home, Rabid. It's getting late.” My words were so weak. “Can't we be done here?”

  He straightened up, turned toward his bike – a little too fast for my liking. I couldn't tell if he was disappointed I hadn't broken the tension with a kiss, or if he was just trying to hide the wicked hard-on pounding in his denim.

  “Sure. Let's go. We're finished as far as I'm concerned.” Without looking back, he headed for the bike.

  I took one last look at all the old buildings. Seriously, what was this place? It's like he knew this abandoned farm.

  “Rabid...” I whispered his name a couple more times as he handed me my helmet. Great, now I was feeling bad about acting like such a bitch.

  “Don't, baby. This shit's not about wounded egos or who's right – hell, or even who's been wrong in the past. You told me the truth. That's what I really wanted tonight. The rest is up to me.”

  The last part was unmistakably sincere. Ouch. The fact I'd told him enough without coming completely clean about Ed's threats, my dad, and so much more just drove a stake through my heart. For a second, I considered coughing up the rest – but what good would it do?

  He knew I was hurting and in danger. If he knew Ed threatened my helpless father too, Rabid was just as likely to go off alone, ready to kill without any backup.

  The future was dark with certainty now. Rabid and his brothers were going to clash with the assholes blackmailing me. It was bound to end in blood. All I could do was watch, and try to keep myself, and the tiny collection of people I still cared about, safe.

  “You don't have to do anything,” I said. God, I sounded so feeble.

  It was all I had. One last desperate attempt to convince him not to fight my battles. Too bad I couldn't convince myself I'd ever be able to fight them on my own. Big Ed had a cannon pointed at my face, and I was holding a slingshot.

  “I said thanks. Now, get the fuck on so I can drive you home. It's a beautiful night.” He was staring up at the sky, a serene
look on his handsome face that didn't match the frustration in his voice. “Everything's gonna be okay, baby, because I'm gonna make it that way. You just worry about being the best damned tutor in the city limits and figure out what else you wanna do with your life. I'll make sure the shits up in Oregon leave you the fuck alone so you can have that chance.”

  Awkward. Brutal. That was the return trip to Redding.

  The bitter, gnawing sensation in the pit of my stomach just wouldn't go away. I'd just unleashed pure hell, and there was no putting it back in its box.

  And that was only half the problem. I couldn't stop thinking about the lost opportunity beneath the stars to taste his lips, if only once. My hands clung tight to his waist, harder than I really needed to keep myself steady on the highway.

  We were parked next to my apartment when I ripped the helmet off. Rabid waited for me to go, no doubt eager to be done with this miserable night. Instinct had something else in mind.

  Emotions broke loose in a torrent. I couldn't control myself anymore as I climbed off the Harley, and then threw my arms around his neck before he could pull away. Smashing my lips against his caused such a raw surge in every nerve I almost passed out.

  Time stopped, lost to the fire consuming us. It only took him half a second to react. He grabbed me, jerked my red locks tight in one fist, securing my face for his kiss. The full force of his lips swept me away like a lightning strike.

  For one sweet second, there was total clarity. I couldn't move, couldn't think, couldn't do anything except taste him. I became the thudding beat in my chest and the molten desire in my veins. Desire opened up like a bottomless pit and swallowed my ego whole.

  His tongue pushed past my lips, opening me, exploring the rampant desire we shared to go deeper.

  Deeper.

  The very word set off an earthquake in my head, and it spread through my body. I was tingling and starting to shake all over as my blown out senses came back. God, he tasted good. I could've stayed locked to him forever, hands splayed on his chest, scratching with need to find out how those sculpted muscles really felt underneath my palms.