Outlaw's Obsession

by Nicole Snow

  Whatever. Anything for her. She was getting nothing but the best from now on, everything she deserved for choosing me and accepting all the insane shit that came with this patch and the brand going on her skin real soon.

  I brushed the red tipped claw patch on the front of my cut. I thought about the club, furrowing my brow at all the crap we still had to do to make sure those assholes in southern Oregon never bothered us again. There'd be a battle this week or next for sure.

  Blackjack wasn't a patient man, and neither was Brass. They'd want to hit the fuckers hard, stomp the rotten apples like Rip, and maybe keep a few good guys to help form a new charter tightly under our control up there. Maybe, assuming they weren't all evil assholes, and that was a real possibility from everything I'd seen.

  I didn't trust a single one of the shits who'd paid us a visit at the clubhouse, demanding my head. If this was a biker bar, I would've been looking over my shoulder, anything to make sure some sneaky bastard wasn't prowling around, about to get the jump on me.

  “What's that one mean, anyway?” Christa tapped the claw patch I'd just brushed. “Guess I'd better start learning this stuff if I'm becoming a club woman.”

  Yeah, the girl was right about that. “You really wanna know?”

  I set my beer down and leaned close, making sure none of the civvies could hear.

  “This one's called first blood. It's the first patch I got after earning my bottom rocker. The club was already starting to have trouble with the Mexicans creeping north. I went down to LA with some guys, Blackjack leading us. They had an old warehouse holding all the shit they brought up from Mexico. Blackjack and me planted the bomb that started the place on fire. Burned up all their drugs for cash and turned a few of the fuckers locked inside into crispy critters. That was the first time I killed for the club, and the red claw marks the occasion.”

  Her eyes were huge. She blinked, smoothing her face. “Jesus.”

  “Yeah.” I sipped my beer. “Don't tell me that shit scares you?”

  “No,” she said after a pause. “I know what this life is all about. My dad was no stranger to doing whatever needed to be done to protect his club.”

  “Anything else you wanna know?” I looked at her. Now was a better time than any to lay my cards out, as long as she didn't want me to spill shit that was for the club's eyes and ears only.

  “Are you ever going to tell me your real name?” She flashed a wicked smile. “I'm perfectly happy calling you Rabid forever, buuut...”

  “It's Charlie. Charlie Tellard.” Fuck, giving up that secret was tough. “My ma wanted to go with something classic. All her choice. The deadbeat asshole who walked out on her while she was pregnant didn't have much say in the matter. This name's all on her.”

  She cocked her head. “I like it, Charlie. Tells me there's a man with a good heart underneath the badass.”

  Her fingers rolled up my cut and grabbed the collar of my shirt. Maybe giving her my real name wasn't so bad after all if it got her wet. I smashed my lips on hers.

  Yeah, no way was I ever getting sick of kissing this. My dick started throbbing in my jeans again, hotter than ever with some booze in my system. No matter how many times we kissed and fucked, I was ready for more. This girl taught me the meaning of insatiable.

  “Why Rabid?” she asked, pulling away. “There's got to be a story behind that.”

  “Blackjack came up with that one. We were at a big rally in Spokane, lots of other clubs representing, one-percenters and casual riders alike. This club from New England cut us off at the bar, trying to wave their dicks in our territory, thinking we were some little pussy group from the west coast. Blackjack tried to hold us back, keep shit calm. Their Prez was being a fucking ass. Words were said and I was ready to fight. When the fucker pushed me, it was the last straw.”

  She shook her head, knowing what was coming.

  “I went nuclear. I broke the asshole's nose while all his guys were beating on me. I was new to my patch and very motivated. I couldn't even feel them while I was wailing on that fucker. Blackjack and the crew had to break through the circle just to pull me out and break it up before I killed him. Said I was like a rabid dog or something. The name stuck.”

  “You like tough odds. I can respect that.” She smiled.

  “Just respect it? Baby, you'd better love it. I had a couple broken ribs when that fight was over and it didn't faze me one bit. I've been this way all my life and I'm not stopping now. I'm a reasonable man. I always do right by my brothers and my woman, and I'll give anybody a couple chances before I let my fists do the talking. But when it's time for that, you'd better watch the fuck out. I will break anybody who deserves it, even if they're busting me piece by piece. That includes anybody who disrespects you. You're mine now. Nobody gives you shit except me.”

  “Yeah? You going to give me something tonight?” She batted her eyes.

  Tease. Good thing I loved every morsel she stirred up in me.

  I reached for her thigh, growling with satisfaction when I felt how warm she was beneath her jeans. Her tongue darted over her bottom lip, obviously turned on and a little drunk. Fucking perfect by my standards.

  My girl knew the answer. Some crotchety old tourist watched us from the corner. I kissed her deep, filling her mouth with everything I was gonna do to her, more than words could ever say.

  “Come on. Let's get the fuck outta here. I'd rather have you than waste more time on another beer and have to wait.”

  We paid our tab and she followed me out to my bike. It was a quick drive back, just as the stars were coming out. Nice reminder of how she'd been resistant as fuck the first time we rode under a sky like this. Now, she was all mine, and I was only beginning to mark her.

  I'd turned her around, brought her into my arms and into my bed. Hell yes. She was mine, dammit, I was never letting go. Not for fucking anything.

  Somebody would have to reach down from the sky and take me away from her before I quit. And that wasn't gonna happen, not with my heart beating strong, sending blood and lightning through my veins. Tonight, it beat like a war drum, strong and tingly in a way that almost freaked me out.

  This love shit was kinda scary. Luckily, I was ready, and I knew I'd be ready for anything by the time I laid her down with my brand tattooed on her skin.

  VII: Complicated (Christa)

  The bike ride went by in a blink, and that was a good thing. My muscles ached with the aftershocks of all the sex we'd had the longer I was on the motorcycle, and my pussy ached more at the thought of what was to come.

  We were in the parking lot, taking off our helmets, when his phone rang.

  “Yeah? What's up?” Rabid growled, annoyed at the interruption.

  “You'd better get your ass to the clubhouse by six tomorrow, brother. Roman's got the prospects out on patrols, taking shifts. Word on the street says the Oregon boys are back in town.” Brass' voice boomed through the receiver.

  “Fuck. Are you sure?”

  “Not yet, but there's a damned good chance it's true. Don't think our local supporters and hangarounds would be bullshitting about seeing dudes with our patches who aren't in our club otherwise. They're back here for blood, and we've gotta be ready. I'm making the rounds and keeping watch on Missy and her sis so nothing fucking crazy happens. Get your girl to the clubhouse tomorrow and make sure she stays there 'til this shit blows over...”

  Brass was still talking, but he'd lowered his voice. I couldn't make out the rest.

  Rabid looked like he'd bitten into a lemon. “All right. Hit me back when you've got more. We'll be there.”

  The phone snapped shut and he stuffed it into his pocket. We packed up our helmets and he turned to me. “Bad news, babe –“

  “I heard. Sounds like we'd better make the most of this night.” I sighed, wondering if this is how those military girls feel before their men ship out overseas.

  “Damned straight. We've got a few good hours before we'd better try to get some shut
eye. We'll be checking out at five sharp tomorrow morning.” He grabbed my hand, and I followed him toward the hotel.

  The parking lot was packed, so we had to take a space further back. We were crossing the last row of cars when a man on the ground yelled out, kneeling next to his tire. His car was jacked up. Looked like quite the clunker for a place like this, worse than the old beast I drove.

  “Hey! Think you can give a guy a hand, mister?”

  Rabid's jaw clenched, and so did his grip on my hand. He gave me a warning look and stepped toward the man.

  “Yeah? What do you need?” Ground man looked up, an older man, and he stared at us for several seconds before Rabid bowed up. “What the fuck? You're the guy from the bar!“

  Heavy boots pounded the pavement right behind me. I spun, just in time to get knocked flat on the ground by a thick silhouette. More footsteps clattered past, heading for my man. I tried to call out to warn him, but a cold hand slammed over my mouth.

  Another hand tore at my hair, holding it, pinning me to the ground. I squealed into the mystery palm, but it was no use. Everything came out muffled.

  More hands were on me, lifting me up, carrying me away at lightning speed.

  All I could hear were the scuffles in the distance, Rabid roaring, men cursing. Someone howled in pain. Then there was a massive blast from a gun.

  I was about to bite the hand around my mouth when they all let go at once. I hit some narrow, confined space and rolled. Something crashed above me, and the world went dark. I didn't realize they'd thrown me into the trunk of a car until we started moving.

  “Rabid! Oh my God. Help me! Help!” I started pounding on the metal overhead as hard as I could. It was surprisingly difficult in such a narrow space, hard to get the right leverage to throw my arms into it.

  And I didn't know if it would even do any good. But I had to try something, had to try to get away. These had to be the men from Klamath, and things were sure to get worse every minute I was in their hands.

  I sucked in a deep breath and screamed so hard I nearly burst my lungs. “Rabid!”

  “Cut it out, you fucking cunt.” Something blunt smashed me in the head. There was a flash of red, and everything started spinning.

  I barely had time to roll over before I blacked out. One of the seats behind me was pulled down, and a man had a knife to my throat, reaching through the space connecting to the trunk.

  “You scream or hit that trunk again, I will bleed you out right here. Same fucking way your lovebird killed our Veep.”

  Why was this so familiar? Flashbacks came, rapid fire.

  I saw Fang holding the knife to my throat again, recording his little threats on video to send to Blackjack and his crew during their rebellion. The dead man had set to work on me then, trying to pump me for information I didn't have. He beat me across the face with the blunt handle, just like the man in the trunk, a warm up before he started carving the ugly scars I'd have forever going up each cheek.

  I'd been a hostage before. I could do it again, just as long as Rabid was okay.

  God, please let him be okay. Don't let him be dead.

  The man with the knife was a nasty looking bastard with an eye patch. Bruises peppered the skin over his jaw and around his lone good eye. “Remember me, bitch? It's Marrow. I helped trash your fucking dive when you didn't pay up and tried to blow town. Did you really think you'd get away from us? Hmmm?”

  I shook my head. No.

  Just give him what he wants. Buy time. Stay alive.

  Stay breathing for Rabid. He's okay – he fucking has to be!

  My thoughts raced as fast as my heart, a pulse so manic it shook my entire body.

  “Big Eddy told me about your daddy too. We'll be back for him when we're done having our fun with you and your fuck buddy. We'll give those old farts at the nursing home a fucking show they'll never forget.”

  “No!” Adrenaline rattled my throat. I couldn't help it. The knife twitched, pressing closer, one ounce of pressure away from digging into me and drawing blood.

  Dad. Fuck! I'm so sorry.

  Tears came, hot and explosive, as if the fire in my brain was spilling out my eyes.

  “Cry all you want, baby, it isn't gonna help. But don't fucking worry.” He snorted. “Some good will come of this. Settling score with both of you assholes just might keep our brothers from killing each other all the way between Redding and Klamath Falls. Blackjack's a reasonable man. He'll understand.”

  Wrong, wrong, so fucking wrong. I wanted to scream it in his face. But I didn't dare as long as he could kill me with a quick swipe of his wrist.

  The car drove on. There was nothing more to say.

  The bastard with his knife to my throat relaxed after a while, satisfied that he'd scared me into submission. He had to know I wouldn't try to pop the trunk either while we were speeding down the highway, probably heading north.

  We'd be across the Oregon border soon. Nothing else mattered just then except knowing Rabid was safe. If he was still free, still in one piece, he'd come for me. If he wasn't...

  The other possibility hurt so much it formed a lump in my throat. I'd gone from hating his guts to loving him. Jesus, I hadn't even said it either. The universe was fair, wasn't it?

  I couldn't die before I saw him again. I swore I wouldn't miss another chance to tell him everything, say the dreaded L-word. If only we escaped this alive.

  The car rumbled and jerked, turning tight corners as it headed through the mountains, onward toward destiny. Death or defiance waited up ahead. Only time would tell which.

  “Come on! Get the fuck up!” Marrow didn't bother opening the trunk

  He yanked me into the back of the car through the narrow space where he'd held his weapon, pushing down the other seat to make room. I went flying out carelessly and banged my knees on the trunk when I tried to twist.

  “Okay, okay!” It was all I could manage with him ripping my hair out of my head, jerking me through the passenger door.

  I'd never been inside the Klamath Falls clubhouse before. I recognized it, though, a large concrete building that looked like it had been a police station or a post office once. Several other guys walked ahead of us. They flung the entry door open and held it for Marrow, who pushed me through it.

  The stink that hit me in the face instantly said this wasn't like the one in Redding. It was like somebody died in there – maybe many somebodies. I swallowed hard, hoping I wouldn't be the latest to add to their sick body count.

  “The fuck? Do I have to do everything to get your ass to move? Go!” The bastard slapped me on the ass.

  It was more like a fist than an open hand. One more bruise I'd have there tomorrow – if I lived to see another day. He pushed me against the wall when we were next to a door. The greasy biker ripped it open and pushed me inside.

  I held my hands out and hit the wall hard, thankful I didn't fall.

  “Sit and keep still 'til the Prez comes to see you, bitch. You're our property now.” The door slammed shut behind him.

  No, I'd never be theirs. Not in body, mind, or soul. I'd already given everything to Rabid, wherever he was.

  The room was completely dark. Thinking about my old man was all I had to keep me sane. I wanted to freak every time my foot brushed something on the floor, thinking it was a rat.

  Probably just debris. It didn't move much. My fingers slid over the wall, searching for a light switch. Five or ten minutes must have passed before I gave up, leaning against the wall in the darkness. I stayed perfectly still.

  Hoping. Praying. Trying not to scream.

  If Rabid got away, he'd come for me soon with his men. He'd free me. I'd be back in his arms in no time, and we'd both live happily ever –

  The door swung open, shattering my optimism. Marrow stepped inside and marched to the room's center, giving the string attached to a light bulb overhead a hard jerk. I felt like an idiot for not finding it before.

  A tall, heavily bearded man I recognized
was right behind him, looking like an angry Norse god. Rip. I'd only met the bastard a couple times when he came to my bar, and he always had some skank at his side.

  When the bitch behind him stepped in on her bright red heels, at first I thought she was another slut. Then I thought I was seeing things.

  I blinked, and the woman didn't disappear. My heart caught in my throat. Jesus, there was no mistaking her, she was really there.

  Red. The club slut who'd upset Rabid and given me the evil eye. Now, I was starting to understand how these assholes had gotten the upper hand and surprised us. They had a rat in Redding all along.

  “Hiii,” Red cooed, stepping close. “Surprised to see me?”

  I shook my head and spat at the ground. My spit landed on the toe of her over-polished hooker shoe. She looked down, then raised her head, locking eyes with me. Then the bitch's teeth came out.

  She slapped me across the face so hard the impact twisted my head to the side.

  “Stupid skank! Can't you see who's got you by the throat, or are you just retarded? You've disrespected me enough. You stole my man. I'll kill you before I let you take anything else away from me.”

  Go ahead, I thought with a smirk. Something tells me you've never so much as sliced a steak in your miserable life.

  “Red, Red. Down, girl.” Rip laughed, pulling her away with a rough hand to the shoulder. “It's been a long time, Little Miss Kimmel.”

  “Not long enough.” Yeah, my sarcastic tongue was probably going to get me killed, but if I did I was going out with a few parting shots.

  “Fuck.” Rip stopped when he was just a couple inches from my face, close enough to feel the overgrown bristles sprouting on his chin. “My boys weren't bullshitting. I remember you being a lot prettier when you were serving drinks to the crew. Fang did a fucking number on you, didn't he?”

  His fat fingers touched my cheek, tracing the longest scar. I twisted my head, throwing him off.

  The big man stood up, grunted, and shook his head. “Looks aside, you're still the same cunt I remember. Defiant. Fucking ungrateful. Only now your debt to this club's in blood – not just money.”