Trucker (Bones MC 6)

by Marteeka Karland

  Trucker (Bones MC 6)

  Marteeka Karland

  All rights reserved.

  Copyright ©2020 Marteeka Karland

  BIN: 009253-02996

  Formats Available:

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  Mobi/PRC

  Publisher:

  Changeling Press LLC

  315 N. Centre St.

  Martinsburg, WV 25404

  www.ChangelingPress.com

  Editor: Katriena Knights

  Cover Artist: Marteeka Karland

  Adult Sexual Content

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  Table of Contents

  Trucker (Bones MC 6)

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Marteeka Karland

  Trucker (Bones MC 6)

  Marteeka Karland

  Helen -- I’ve made some bad choices in my life. The worst was falling for a man who kidnapped me and held me hostage. He wants my baby. Why, I have no idea, but there’s no way he’s getting it without a fight. Once this is over, assuming I’m still alive, I’m going to need some serious help.

  Trucker -- The small redhead blows me away at first sight. And not only because of the knife sticking out of her very pregnant belly. She’s fierce as a tiger. Brave as any member of Bones. I know I have to protect her, no matter what kind of trouble she’s in. Once she’s healed, I know she’s going to be mine. I just have to convince her of it. Until then, I’ll protect her, and her kid, with my very life. Once the asshole who did this is dead, then I’ll prove to her why I’m the best choice to be her man.

  Chapter One

  “Trucker! You pussy! Where’s the fuckin’ cage?”

  Trucker rolled his eyes and sighed. “Right where you fuckin’ left it, you bastard!” He had no idea who was calling out, but it didn’t much matter to Trucker. It was all pretty much the same every time a member of the club needed a vehicle other than their own bike. He’d long ago given up being really angry. Besides, it was all part of the camaraderie.

  “Ain’t you in charge of all the vehicles around here?”

  “Yep. Ain’t no Goddamned babysitter though. And I ain’t your Goddamned housekeeper! You take somethin’, you can damned well put it back where you found it.”

  “Fucker!”

  Trucker continued working on the bike in his shop, a grin tugging at his lips. The men of Bones could act like kids sometimes. It was all part of the fun. They’d had several close calls recently, and the whole of Bones needed to have a little fun.

  That was the beauty of Bones. They’d started out as an MC club of men. Now, they were becoming a family complete with wives and children. Trucker was gratified to see Cain and Torpedo encouraging the change. Oh, they still sometimes skirted the edge of legality and wouldn’t hesitate to do what had to be done to protect their own people, but now they did more toward protecting their community. Their reputation was mostly enough to keep out the rabble who thought they’d just run roughshod through Somerset. The ones who weren’t as afraid as they should be soon learned to be.

  Thirty minutes later, Torpedo, their vice-president, came into his shop. “Seriously, Trucker. Where’s the fuckin’ RV?”

  Trucker didn’t look up from his task. “In the barn where I intend to service it when I get done servicing the bikes in here.”

  “Not that RV, the other one.”

  He looked up. “The ‘80 Winnebago?”

  “Yeah. Couple of the prospects wanted to go huntin’. I told them they could take that one. Figured if they trashed it, you wouldn’t have to kill them over it.”

  Trucker snorted but went back to work. “You know better. They take it out, they bring it back like they found it. With everything clean. Including the fuckin’ toilet.”

  “Not a problem. Except, we can’t find it.”

  “It’s in the other bay in the barn. Serviced it for Cheetah a couple weeks ago. She always puts things back where they belong. Must be the absence of the Y chromosome.”

  “Cheetah?”

  Trucker paused, looking up at Torpedo. “Yeah. Said she needed it. Didn’t see no reason not to let her have it. Didn’t think she was gonna be out this long, but ain’t none of my business. And I know I saw her just a few days ago.”

  “Hmm. Well, it’s gone.”

  Trucker shrugged. “Give her a call. See what she’s got goin’ on. She called first dibs though. Ain’t tellin’ her she’s got to come back, and neither are you or any of the others.”

  “Hey. I had no intention. She may not be a patched member, but she’s done good by the club and ExFil.”

  “Text her. Make sure she actually has it. I’d hate to have to start the fuckin’ day with a killin’ if that fucker Pig took it.”

  “I thought Stunner took care of that little fuck?”

  “He did. Boy seems to have responded to brute force more than all the fuckin’ talkin’ and smacks upside the head in the world.”

  “Good thing Mama was able to patch him up. I was worried about the fucker for a while there.”

  Trucker shrugged. “He’d been asking for it for a while. Guess him mouthin’ off to little Suzie wasn’t the worst thing he did, but maybe it will be the last.”

  “Boy can’t even look at Stunner without shivering.” Torpedo laughed. “It’s funny as shit.”

  “He got what he deserved. I just hope he learns from it.”

  “Sent a text. Though, I don’t remember seeing Cheetah today. She’s probably got the thing parked at some community event. Wasn’t there a fun run today? She usually makes hot chocolate and coffee, or lemonade and iced tea for things like that.”

  “Good point.” Trucker took out his phone and sent off a quick text to Cheetah behind Torpedo’s before shoving it back in his pocket. She might ignore one text for a few minutes, but not two.

  “Bikes look good?” Torpedo nodded to the line of six bikes Trucker was servicing.

  “Yep. Routine stuff.” Trucker pointed to Torpedo’s bike. “You could go a little easier on the brakes.”

  Torpedo grinned at him. “Now, what fun would that be?”

  “No fun if you end up on the pavement.”

  “True that.”

  Torpedo turned to go, but Trucker called to him. “Let me know when you find Cheetah and my RV.” He didn’t have to wait long. Trucker actually heard the old Winnebago long before he saw the thing.

  Picking up a rag to wipe off the wrench he was using, Trucker walked outside his workshop into
the brisk, February air. Off in the distance, screaming up the long driveway to the clubhouse, was the missing RV.

  “What the everlasting fuck? Torpedo!”

  “I see it, Trucker.” Torpedo was just outside the building talking with Bohannon, Sword, and Viper.

  “Is that Cheetah?”

  “Don’t know. Comin’ in hot though.”

  “Look out!”

  The Winnebago made a sharp turn and slid to a halt next to the clubhouse in the parking lot. Several men jumped out of the way. A few seconds later, the door to the back flew open. Cheetah stumbled out.

  “We need Mama! Help!”

  The men headed for the RV. Bohannon yelled for Luna, his woman, to go for Mama and Pops. Trucker ran for the RV along with the others. Something made him… uncomfortable. There was a tingle between his shoulder blades that always meant there was something wrong. What it could possibly be, Trucker couldn’t imagine. Not in their home territory. Cheetah had brought the RV into their clubhouse, so he doubted she’d brought danger to their door.

  An ear-piercing shriek came from inside the Winnebago. A woman? The men looked at each other before Bohannon, who was closest, shoved Cheetah out of the way and entered the vehicle. Trucker was right behind him. What he saw froze his blood.

  There was a table that folded down into a bed across from the stove and counter. On that bed lay a very pregnant woman who had been stabbed in the abdomen. He knew she’d been stabbed because the knife handle was still sticking out. The blade appeared to have been stabilized, probably by Cheetah, but the wound was steadily and persistently dripping blood onto the thin mattress and down to the floor.

  Sweat beaded the young woman’s face, strands of dark auburn hair sticking to her forehead and cheeks. Her expression was one of pain, fear, and grief. Her gaze locked with Trucker’s, sea-green eyes sparkling like diamonds with her tears. “Help me. Please.” Her voice was tremulous. Her lips quivered as tears coursed from her eyes down her temples.

  “What the fuck happened here?” Bohannon demanded as he checked the small area for anyone else.

  “What’s it look like?” Cheetah bit out. “She’s been fucking stabbed! Get her to Mama!”

  Trucker couldn’t seem to move. He was caught in some kind of web as he continued to stare into the young woman’s eyes. He couldn’t register much other than the brilliant green of her eyes and the red blood staining her clothing around the knife.

  “Get her inside,” Bohannon ordered. “Luna’s gettin’ Mama, but she can’t do anything out here. Not enough room.”

  When Bohannon moved to the girl, Trucker shouldered his way in front of his brother, carefully scooping her up into his arms. Her hands were covered in blood, one shaking horribly where it fluttered close to the knife. He could tell she wanted it out but knew better than to just yank.

  “Easy,” he said, as he turned sideways to get them out of the small door. With his size and her advanced pregnancy, they barely fit, and he had to be careful not to jar her too much with that knife stuck in her abdomen. “Just relax if you can. We’ll get you taken care of.”

  “No police,” she gasped.

  Trucker looked up sharply at Cheetah as he got them in firm ground, out of the RV. She just shook her head before falling into step behind them. Later. He’d deal with that later. Getting the girl to Mama was the main concern at the moment.

  “They call me Trucker,” he said as he strode up to the clubhouse in long, confident strides. “What’s your name, little miss?”

  “Helen.”

  “That’s a good name.” He smiled down at her as he turned the corner into the clinic Mama had set up for the club. “Fittin’ for such a beautiful girl.”

  Fuck. Now he sounded like a putz. A quick glance up had Pops and Mama both raising their eyebrows. Bohannon walked into his line of vision, and Trucker noticed the enforcer had a similar look of amusement on his face. His eyes said he’d be laughing his ass off if the situation were any different.

  “Is there anyone we need to call for you, Helen?” Pops asked, his voice that soft, soothing tone he had when the situation called for it.

  “No. Nobody.” Helen looked to Cheetah, who nodded.

  “Bohannon, I think you need to take Cheetah outside. She has something to tell you and Cain.” For Pops to call out Cheetah so obviously told everyone how unhappy he was with the woman.

  Helen’s eyes widened in panic and she tried to sit up, but a firm hand on her shoulder by both Mama and Trucker stayed her.

  “Trust us, girl,” Mama said gently. “You’re protected here.”

  Helen looked to Trucker much like she’d looked at Cheetah. A query as to whether everything would be all right. “I’ve got your back, Helen,” he said. “No one’s gonna hurt you while you’re here.”

  That seemed to be what she was looking for because Helen laid her head back on the table. Her gaze clung to Trucker’s though. For some reason, she’d latched on to him even more than she had to Cheetah. The girl had glanced at the door once as the other woman left, but had kept her attention focused on Trucker after that.

  Mama moved around her, cleaning around the wound to check for continued bleeding before bringing in an ultrasound machine and running it over Helen’s belly.

  “How do you have this stuff?” Helen’s voice was soft and so filled with pain it made Trucker wince.

  “Mama and Pops are special, talented people. Bones has the means, so we make sure they have what they need to take care of all of us.”

  “Just relax, dear. I need to see what the knife hit and what needs to happen next.” Mama moved her hands gently over the girl as she spoke.

  “I don’t want to go to the hospital,” she said immediately.

  Mama kept working, seeming to ignore Helen. Pops moved to stand next to Trucker, laying a gentle hand on Helen’s head. “We may not be able to prevent it, young lady,” Pops confessed. “We don’t want to risk harming the baby any further.”

  At the mention of her unborn child, Helen’s hands slid to her abdomen. She caressed the uninjured side and barely stopped herself from doing the same to the side with the knife buried deep.

  “I know, but if he finds me, he’ll finish what he started.” Her voice broke on the last and she bit her lip, closing her eyes tightly as tears leaked steadily.

  “Who did this, honey?” Papa asked gently. “Tell me so we can make sure he never does anything like this again.”

  She shook her head violently. “NO! I told Carol. She was getting me out, but he found out anyway and look what happened!” Helen was panicking. Mama had hooked up monitors to her before beginning her exam with the ultrasound, and Helen’s heartbeat was wild.

  “Carol.” Trucker raised an eyebrow. “You mean Cheetah?” Trucker doubted many in Bones knew that woman’s real name. If anyone did. He sure hadn’t known her name was Carol. That this girl did meant she was important to Cheetah in some way.

  Helen looked confused. “Carol. She brought me here.”

  Trucker nodded, sitting beside Helen in a nearby chair. She automatically reached out for his hand, grasping it in a death grip. Without thinking, he covered her small hand with his other large one. For long moments, Trucker just stared at their entwined hands. All he could think was how different they were. She was this small, fragile woman while he was a large warrior. It was up to him to slay her demons.

  And why the fuck was he thinking like this? He didn’t know this lady and didn’t owe her anything. But he knew in his heart he absolutely would protect this small woman to the death if necessary.

  “Good news is,” Mama began, never taking her eyes from the screen as she made adjustments and measurements to the image the ultrasound provided her, “the baby appears unharmed.” She fiddled with a few things, pressing a few buttons as she adjusted the probe on Helen’s stomach. “Bad news is, the child won’t stay that way long. You’re losing amniotic fluid.” She looked at Helen, a serious but determined look on her face. “How fa
r along are you?”

  “A-about nine months, I suppose. Best I can count.”

  “You suppose. Have you had any prenatal care?”

  Helen’s gaze slid away, ashamed. “Not since I was sixteen weeks. He wouldn’t let me, and I couldn’t keep up with the days because he sedated me sometimes.”

  “You’re gonna tell me who this fucker is, Helen. Them I’m gonna kill the sumbitch,” Trucker growled before he could stop himself.

  She glanced at him sharply, fear in those lovely eyes.

  “Not now, Trucker,” Mama chastised in an impatient voice. “There are more important things to worry about right now. Pops, I’m going to need some resources. You know what to do.”

  “I’ll be right back.” He patted Helen’s head gently before leaving the room.

  “First thing we’ve got to do is start a couple of IVs. This isn’t going to be easy or painless, but I promise you we’ll be quick and careful. I’ll also make sure you have as much medicine as I can safely give you before we start. If all goes well, your pain will be minimal. Mild discomfort at most.”

  “What’s going to happen?” Helen’s hand tightened around Trucker’s as she looked from him to Mama. “Can you help me and not hurt my baby?”

  “I’m going to try,” Mama said. “Should be pretty straightforward. You’re very lucky the knife missed both the baby and anything vital to you. Once we deliver the baby and make very sure you’re not bleeding internally from someplace I can’t see with the ultrasound, you both should be fine. We just have to be careful. Pops is getting some help for me.”

  “He’s not calling the police, is he? I can’t have the police involved.” She looked terrified at the mere thought.

  “Honey, this is Bones. We take care of our own, and we do it on our own.”

  “Carol said that too.”

  “Then believe in that. We’ll take care of you.” Mama smiled gently as she set up several instruments and sealed packs on a nearby table. When Pops came back in, he did so with an isolette for the baby when it was born, and a warmer, which was essentially a big heat lamp though more precisely controlled.