“Get your things. We aren’t taking the car,” Damon barked. “There are three bikes out there. Can you ride?”
“Please,” she said dryly as she hurried to grab her duffel. The room was a mess. The TV had been knocked over, the stand was destroyed. The bed was rumpled. Pools of blood stained the carpet and there was red sprayed across the walls. “Of course I know how to ride.” She wasn’t sure she could handle a big bike, but maybe she could deal with Broke’s. He was about her height, though he definitely had more muscle to handle it.
“Good. I’ll take the other. I’ll slash the car tires and the other bikes. Let’s go.” He didn’t give her time to argue. She barely had time to zip her duffel closed and tuck her gun into the back of her pants before Damon was out the door. He ran across the asphalt to the bikes, which were parked brazenly out front. It spoke to the level of confidence that the men had. They thought they could just ride right up on them, walk in the front door and accomplish what they’d set out to achieve.
Damon made quick work of destroying all the rubber that they weren’t taking. He left Broke’s bike for her and he took one of the other two. She wasn’t sure which was which, she just knew Broke’s. She’d seen him ride it before. As one of her father’s closest friends, it had been parked on her parents’ driveway more times than she could count over the years.
She jumped on, her duffel slung to her back. She wasn’t dressed warm enough for a bike but it was going to have to do. It was summer and a nice night. She didn’t have a helmet or anything to cut the wind, but she also couldn’t worry about that at the moment.
Damon had nothing either.
He led the way and she sped off after him. The bike was heavy and she felt unbalanced on it, but after a few minutes of riding, she settled in. She followed Damon, tucking in as close to him as she dared. Her heartbeat was loud, even over the roar of the engine. Her eyes watered as the night air rushed up and stabbed at them. Luckily there weren’t many bugs out. She reached down with one hand and pulled her sweater over her mouth and nose, blocking out the rush of air. It helped, a little.
The adrenaline ripping through her veins refused to fade away, even long after they’d left the motel behind, though it could have been minutes that merely felt like hours.
She followed Damon blindly down the road, two lone bikes under an endless sky.
Two lone lives that no longer mattered to anyone else.
Like it or not, it looked like they were going to have to stick together.
Which meant that her plan served no purpose. She wasn’t in control. She was desperately out of control. She didn’t have the upper hand. She was still following Damon, still with him. Worse, now she knew she had to trust him. She had to trust that maybe if they stuck together, they’d live long enough to make it to the other side.
She wasn’t any close to finding out what really happened to her parents. She wasn’t closer to escape.
And now the memory of Damon, his hands, his touch, his mouth, his kiss, his… his everything, was seared into her mind. He’d marked her, branded her, brought her a sweeter pleasure than anything she’d ever experienced. It was pathetic to think that she ever could have ignored her true feelings for him. She’d given herself to him. She tried desperately, and failed miserably, to wish she could take it back.
Chapter 9
DAMON
When the gray light of dawn crept across the sky, Damon knew he had to stop. He was exhausted and he couldn’t imagine how Kirstin felt back there. She rode like the wind, trailing close behind. She never fell back or rode up beside him and signaled him to stop. It was comforting in a way that it shouldn’t have been, that she had his back.
She certainly had at the motel room. He didn’t want to think about where he’d be if she hadn’t burst out of the bathroom and kicked some serious ass herself.
Goddamn, it was hot. She was beautiful, but witnessing her in action, seeing how tough she was, how she took that bastard down all by herself… well, his cock really liked the replay that kept going on in his brain.
The landscape was dotted with houses here and there, mostly farm yards or turn offs for smaller towns. He’d taken them down a back road that, while paved, was crumbling and hard to ride on safely. Still, it was better than chancing being out in the open on the main drag.
Damon waited until he found a turn off for a gravel road. They’d passed countless, but in the distance, there was a copse of trees. A dirt road split off from the gravel and he turned down it. It was so hard and packed their tracks were indistinguishable from the ruts, quad tires, and marks from what was likely a truck. Unless they sent Search after them. The guy was aptly named. He could search out just about anything and bring them down.
He wasn’t betting on the guy coming after them. The three Bone sent were three men he could spare. The bastard was gearing up for a big turf war with a fellow club. They were trying to make a move into Bone’s territory and he wasn’t having it. Instead of opting for a peaceful arrangement where they gave up a fraction of ground like some of the club wanted, the guy would rather fight it out to the death. Search was actively being used at the moment to gather intel on their enemy. He was tracking their every move. That was probably more important than he and Kirstin, at the moment. Also, Bone didn’t actually know about them. Those three men they’d taken down at the motel probably hadn’t come to yet after he’d given them a shot of the horse tranq. He’d also destroyed their phones and taken their means of transport.
They probably had a few more hours before Bone knew he’d actually betrayed the club and taken Kirstin.
Which meant, as he dismounted and led the bike down the ditch and into the thick trees that lined the road and most of the land adjacent, that they could stop for a few hours of much needed rest.
Kirstin followed him. She handled her bike like a pro. His dick saluted her, but he made himself focus. He’d lost it for a few minutes with her back at the motel and they’d just about been caught unawares. It wasn’t a mistake he was going to repeat, no matter how beautiful Kirstin was or how she came to him.
He couldn’t think about what happened in the bathroom. He couldn’t let his guard down again. He had to save her, to get them away, to get them all the way to Minnesota, to an old friend from a former club. The guy was the best at hiding a person. Creed was a good contact to have. He’d be able to help them.
They just had to make it there alive.
“I can’t get the bike in further,” Kirstin said wearily, snapping him out of his thoughts.
“Okay.” Damon nodded. He eyed the road. “It will be okay. I don’t think anyone will be able to see it from there. I’ll break some tree branches and cover them up, just in case.”
Kirstin’s shoulders visibly sagged beneath her thin sweater. She was probably freezing, though the night had been warm and sticky. She was exhausted, with dark swatches under her eyes. Her hair was a snarled mess, her eyes red rimmed from riding so long without any protective wear.
She shifted her duffel, which she’d shifted to her back so she could ride and narrowed her eyes, like she didn’t appreciate his frank appraisal. She squared her shoulders and he realized that she hated showing even an ounce of weakness.
She was Big Ted’s daughter through and through.
And god, Damon was proud of her.
“See if you can find a place to sleep. Use your knife to cut down a few branches as well. We can lay them down so the ground isn’t hard or wet and we’ll pull a few over us.”
“Okay.” She was too exhausted to argue.
He set to work hiding the bikes and when he was satisfied, he walked into the woods to find Kirstin. She’d done as he asked. The trees were in their full leafy splendor. She’d laid out a couple down on the ground where no roots protruded and set a couple larger branches aside.
Damon dropped his bag to the ground. “I have a blanket in here.” He didn’t have his normal gear for a ride. He didn’t want to make it obvious when
he was packing, in case he had a tail, that he was going to do anything but what he was supposed to be doing. Murder didn’t involve packing for fucking camping.
Kirstin nodded. She watched him spread it out over the thatch of branches, in the leafiest part. When he indicated she should lie down, she did so willingly, without argument. She curled into a tight ball, her knees at her chest, in a position that tugged at his heart. She looked younger that way, lost, vulnerable.
He spread the branches over her, then tucked in beside her. He kept his gun at the back of his pants, the same way she did. He spread out on his side behind her. He pulled up a few of the branches so the leaves shielded them from view. Any tracker would spot the disturbance easily, but anyone else passing by would see nothing but leaves and trees. He knew they should sleep in shifts and keep watch, but that would take too long. They both needed a good rest and they were both pushed beyond their limits.
Kirstin’s even breaths told him she was already asleep. She’d drawn the hood of her sweater up around her face to protect her from the branches and ground below.
Though he was exhausted, his adrenaline long spent, when he shut his eyes, it was hard to find sleep. He was uncomfortable, but he was chaffing from the inside out. The taste of Kirstin still lingered on his tongue and his mind replayed scenes of her beautiful, naked body. It was the worst thing to think of at the moment, but she was incredible and she was only a few inches away. The sweet smell of vanilla, either her perfume or her shampoo, still clung to her skin and tormented him with its delicious fragrance every single time he inhaled.
Eventually he gave up fighting his body. He wasn’t going to wake her. He wasn’t entirely a beast. He could control himself. Most times. He just wanted to be close enough to touch her, to feel like he could protect her, to convince himself that they’d get through this.
Damon shifted, rolling himself closer to Kirstin. He draped an arm over her much smaller form and curled around her. Asleep, she was warm and delicate and so much more fragile than when she was awake with all her sass and attitude and toughness.
Even if they got out alive, Damon knew she could easily be the death of him.
Chapter 10
KIRSTIN
Blood. There was so much blood. It coated her hands, sticky and burning. The blood flowed like rives over the dirt. A barren field with acres and acres of dirt, all awash in blood.
A scream rose up, shrill in the night. She didn’t realize it was coming from her, torn from her throat. In the distance, two specters hovered. Bodies. Her mother. Her father.
Her mother’s head was caved in, the blow gruesome and gory, half of her face torn away. Her father’s body had been brutalized, tortured, hacked to bits so that his limbs hung by sinewy strands.
Bile burned up her throat when her mother reached for her, her fingers dripping dark, sticky, purplish blood. She opened her mouth in silent supplication, her sightless eyes staring forward, seeing nothing at all.
Nothing at all.
The screams filled up the night. Her mother’s. Her father’s. Her own.
“Kirstin! Kirstin, hey!” A gentle voice broke through the terror of the dream and Kirstin pulled herself from the nightmarish landscape.
She struggled to open her eyes, but when she did, Damon’s face swam into view. “Oh god,” she sobbed. She pushed herself upright and glanced around. They were in the woods, well, not the woods, just a treed in area off a back road. They’d stopped to rest.
She was confused and disoriented. Her clothes were soaked with sweat and not even the warmth of the morning, the sun high and cutting through the trees, had a hope of warming her. She swallowed hard and shuddered when she realized that the acrid taste of bile in the back of her throat was real.
The leaves rustled beside her and Kirstin turned to face Damon. He blinked hard, his long, dark lashes fluttering down over his glacial eyes for a brief pause. Why hadn’t she noticed that they were so thick before? They were pretty, those eyelashes, like they should belong to a woman. Then again, men always seemed to have great eyelashes. It was a crime really.
She smiled slowly when she realized what she was thinking about. Anything was better than reliving that dream. She brushed a hand up to her hair and found it snarled and knotted as her hood fell away.
“What time is it?”
Damon blinked again. He’d sat up with her and was perched on the edge of the blanket as though danger lurked around the next corner. Maybe it did. Her spine stiffened as a tremor raced up it.
“I would say noon, judging from the sun. We needed to stop and sleep. We couldn’t keep driving like that.”
“Yeah. I know.” She glanced at his bag, which was set by their makeshift bed. “Do you have anything to eat? I brought a little bit, but I think we should definitely fuel up before we go. We’ll have to stop for real gas too. My bike is just about empty.”
“Mine too. And yes, I brought a few things.”
“Okay.” She nodded, aware that she was making small talk because she suddenly felt extremely awkward.
“Okay.” Damon nodded. His eyes never left her face. Neither of them moved.
Kirstin sighed. “Where are we going anyway? Do you have a plan or are we just… riding?”
“I have a plan. I don’t want to tell you where we’re heading though, in case… well, it’s just better if you don’t know.”
“So that I can’t give you away if I get caught?”
“No.” His lips pressed into a thin line. Though they’d slept, there were still dark smudges under his eyes. A shadow of stubble covered his hard jaw and she tried not to notice how beautiful it looked on him. Stubble should not be considered beautiful. Men should not be beautiful.
Damon was. He looked hard and rugged. He’d fought for her and risked his life to save hers.
“I- I should thank you, Damon,” she said slowly, thickly. It was easy for her to be tough. Well maybe not easy, but easier than letting her guard down enough to let him in. Enough to say thank you.
When she looked up, she found his eyes glistening and a strange expression on his face, like hearing his name from her lips affected him. She couldn’t read all the emotion in the depths of those incredible eyes, but what she saw there made her chest hurt the same way it clenched and squeezed when she’d found him in the bathroom, standing under that cold spray, scrubbing his skin raw.
“For what?” he raised a brow, like he didn’t really know.
“For not killing me. For turning your back on your club. For saving me. You don’t even know me. You could have- you could have just done what Bone asked and patched into the club.”
He shook his head slowly. “No I couldn’t.”
“Why? When you patch in, you have to know that Bone will ask you to kill. Other people. Men. Bad men. Good men. My father, he tried to keep that part of his life from me, the bad parts, but I heard him. I heard him talking to my mom so many times. I know what he did. I know that death doesn’t discriminate. That he killed men who had wronged the club and he killed men that were good people. At least, he said they were. The death of a good man lies heavy on the conscience. That’s what he once said to my mom.”
“I’m not a murderer. I might be a lot of other things, but killing innocent women isn’t on my bucket list.”
“I’m not innocent. I- my father betrayed Bone.”
“Yes, but families aren’t on the hit list. I can’t believe Bone had your mother killed. And then you… it doesn’t make sense.”
Kirstin froze. “I- I wanted to ask you, but I didn’t think you’d tell me. What really happened? Why was my father running? With my mother? I- he knew what the penalty would be. He knew that he’d be killed if he ever tried to leave the club. He was the VP. Bone was his Prez. They were friends. They’ve been friends for longer than I’ve been alive. I just- it doesn’t make sense. I never heard about a falling out. I- I don’t know what happened. They didn’t take me with them, but they called to warn me when they knew it wa
s too late for them. I- I don’t know if they thought I’d be left untouched when they left and they changed their minds or what happened. I just want to know.” Embarrassingly, her eyes filled with tears. The bridge of her nose burned and her throat closed up. “It doesn’t make sense. Any of it. I- I- there must be something more. Something I don’t know about…”
She tried to stem the tears, but they flowed down her cheeks in scalding trails. She reached up, annoyed and horrified for her display of weakness. Giving her body to Damon was one thing. That had been part of a plan that backfired, but still, she couldn’t regret it or feel ashamed. Her tears though… few people in her life had the privilege of seeing her cry. She’d never opened herself up to another person, never shown another living being other than her mom and dad, that she was just like everyone else, that she bled inside, that her heart hurt, that she was vulnerable and wounded.
Kirstin pressed her fingers against her eyelids, trying to cut the tears off, but they squeezed out anyway. Her shoulders shook and her breath became little raspy pants. She realized she was on the verge of breaking down completely, of weeping like a lost child.
Damon had now seen all of her. He’d seen her naked and he’d seen below her skin. He’d seen to the heart of her.
Strong arms closed around her shoulders and hauled her roughly against him. He’d donned a leather jacket over his t-shirt before they left the motel and she inhaled past her stuffy nose and scented that familiar comforting smell of leather that she used to associate with her father. Everything else was different though. Rawer, muskier. She smelled fresh air and leaves and below that, the headier tang of perspiration and raw male.
His hand soothed over her back, tracing small, comforting circles. He said nothing, but he rested his chin on the crown of her head as he held her. Kirstin didn’t want to, but she felt safe there, wrapped in those strong, solid arms. He closed around her like a barrier, keeping the world out, the harm and the fear and the pain.
Lonely Rider - The Box Set: A Motorcycle Club Romance - The Complete Series Page 45
