Road to Nowhere: A Motorcycle Club Romance (Blacktop Blades MC) (Beauty & the Biker Book 1)

by Paula Cox

  As I find my feet, he slowly loosens his grip, allowing me to stand. He looks at me and I can see concern in his eyes and I am touched. It has been so long since anyone looked at me that way.

  I follow him out. I’m exhausted, but I force myself to walk, make myself place one foot in front of the other. We reach his motorcycle and I wait for him to stand the bike upright then climb aboard. Again the seat burns my ass and legs, but I don’t care. The kind man is taking me with him, and that’s all that matters.

  We rumble out of the parking lot and back to the interstate. I’m turned around, everything looking the same in the desert. It seems like I’ve seen this all before, but I’m not sure. We ride for a long time, the desert heat like a blast furnace, but the rushing air makes the ride bearable.

  I become drowsy again, the rumble of the motorcycle and my full stomach trying to drag me into the darkness of sleep, but if I fall asleep now, I’ll fall from the bike and be injured at best, killed at worst. I lean into his back, resting my head on his shoulder, my arms going around his waist, the embrace feeling natural and I am comforted by it.

  I nod a couple of times, jerking awake when I feel like I’m falling, but I am still tucked securely into his back. I am nodding again when I hear the tone of the bike change. I struggle out of the twilight of sleep as he exits the interstate. We continue to slow and I see the sign.

  Gila Bend! He’s taking me back! I can’t go back. I’d rather die than go back. He continues to slow and I throw myself off the back of the bike. I land hard, bouncing and tumbling. The pavement is hot, burning my naked skin, but I can’t take the time to assess my wounds. I jump to my feet and run, bouncing off a car before dashing across the road. I am running into the desert, but I don’t care. Better the hell of the Arizona desert than the hell of my prison.

  I hear the roar of his motorcycle, then the pounding of his feet as he gives chase. He’s too fast and he catches me just as I clear the railroad tracks. I fight, holding nothing back, but he’s too strong and he quickly overpowers me.

  Chapter 7

  The Blades exited the interstate in Gila Bend. Their bikes were nearing their limit on fuel and this was the best place to stop for gas, the near exact halfway point between Yuma and Tucson. They were going to fill their bikes, grab a quick drink, then make the final two-hour drag to the clubhouse.

  They often rode for hours to make a delivery. The Blades made it a point to not sell in their own back yard, wanting to keep as much distance between manufacturing and distribution as possible. There was plenty of Hearts and Daggers in Tucson, but none of it was from local supply. Tucson, like most of Arizona, was being supplied by the Nasty Bastards out of Albuquerque, New Mexico.

  He felt the woman squirming around behind him, the first time he felt her move since she’d draped her arms around him and snuggled into his back. He had to admit, it felt good to have a backwarmer again.

  He was slowing in the center turn lane, waiting for a car to pass before he turned, when the bike suddenly weaved, its balance upset by the woman as she threw herself off the bike. He jammed on the brakes as she tumbled along the pavement, tried to get to her feet as she was skidding along, then fell again before coming to a stop. She immediately bounced back up, turned, and ran into the side of the car that was panic braking and swerving to avoid hitting her.

  She tumbled back to the pavement but never stopped before bounding to her feet again and dashing across the road. He gunned the Indian, racing around the front of the car into the gravel area on the side of the road. She changed direction, running away from him as he kicked the side stand down and bounded from the machine, hoping the bike didn’t fall, but not having time to make sure it was stable.

  She could run like a gazelle, but with his much longer legs and her weakened condition, he was able to chase her down. “Stop!” he called just before he caught her, dragging her to a stop. She fought like a wildcat, scratching, biting and kicking. He was at a severe disadvantage because he didn’t want to hurt her, but she didn’t have the same compunction about him.

  He got her wrapped up, his hands on her wrist, turning her back into his chest as he crossed her arms in front of her, being careful to keep his hands away from her snapping teeth. “I’m not going to hurt you!” he yelled, holding her as she twisted and squirmed, kicking at his legs as he held her.

  “Stop it! I’m not going to hurt you!” he cried, grunting with the effort of holding the storm he was trying to contain in his arms. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he said again, more calmly as the fight went out of her. “Shhhh…I’m not going to hurt you.”

  Finally, she slumped, either giving up or exhausted. The moment she relaxed he released her. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he said one more time as he stepped back. “If you want to go, that’s fine. I won’t stop you. Next time, though, wait for the motorcycle to stop first. Are you okay?”

  She obviously wasn’t okay. Her pants were torn, and he could see bloody and raw skin through the openings. Her hands and arms had a grim case of road rash, and her head was bleeding.

  “What the fuck was that about?” Zane panted as he arrived, the rest of the brothers not far behind him.

  “Damned if I know. I guess she had a panic attack.” Arsen looked her over. “Will you let me look at you?” he asked her.

  She didn’t respond. He stepped up and looked at her head, the thing that worried him most. He pushed the hair back to see the bleeding cut, but it didn’t look as bad as he feared. “Jesus, you’re a mess,” he murmured as he looked at the hamburger that was the palms of her hands. “Thank god you waited until I was only doing about ten. If you’d pulled this stunt at seventy-five or eighty, I’d be scraping you up with a shovel. What were you thinking?” he asked. He didn’t expect an answer, and didn’t get one.

  “Okay sister, enough fucking around. Nobody’s going to hurt you, but if you want to go, now’s your chance. It’s your choice. I’ll give you some money and you can walk off into the sunset if that’s what you want. But if you go with us again, no more jumping off moving motorcycles, okay?” He waited a moment. “I’m going back to my bike, then I’m crossing the street for gas. If you want to go with us, be there before we leave.”

  He turned his back to her and began to walk away. He didn’t want to leave her, but he couldn’t have her bailing off the bike either. That was just fucked, and she could have taken him with her. Better she took her chances on foot than to do that stupid shit again.

  As the Blades walked, Arsen glanced over his shoulder then stopped, allowing her to catch up. “Decided to come with us?” He took her wrist and towed her along to his bike. They mounted up and he rode it across the street for gas.

  “That bitch is nothing but trouble,” Casey said. “Are you sure about this?”

  “No,” Arsen admitted. “I don’t know what got into her. She was fine until I got off the interstate. I don’t know if what happened to her happened here, or what.”

  “What if she does that again, but on the interstate?”

  “Then she’ll die and she won’t be a problem anymore, will she?”

  “Jesus, Arsen!”

  “What do you want me to say, Casey? That she won’t do it again? I don’t know that.”

  “I’m just worried about what she’ll do next, that’s all.”

  Arsen sighed. “You think I’m not? She was on the back of my bike. If something happens, it’s all on me.” The pump clicked off and he hung up the nozzle and twisted the cap back on the tank. “Come on. Let’s go see what they’ve got to clean you up.”

  As they walked into the attached store, he noticed she was already limping. He shook his head. He couldn’t get his mind around her jumping off his bike like that. He started with four bottles of water, then searched until he found the aisle with medical supplies. He picked up a box of big square bandages, some spray antiseptic that also said it would relieve pain, and a bottle of ibuprofen.

  He paid for everything, then hand
ed her a water bottle. She handled it gingerly because of her sore hands, and couldn’t open it.

  “Sorry,” he said, opening it for her and letting her drink for a moment. Then he pointed to the curb. “Sit,” he said, and she did. “This is going to hurt.”

  He took her free hand and poured water over it in a slow stream, rinsing out the worst of the blood and dirt. She flinched but didn’t make a sound. He patted her hand dry before dousing it with the spray and sticking one of the large bandages over it. He repeated the process on her other hand, both knees, and a couple of places on her arms. Her forehead he just cleaned and spritzed with the antiseptic.

  By the time he was done, he used most of the three bottles of water, all but one of the bandages, and most of the antiseptic. He shook three ibuprofen into her hand. “Take those. Trust me, you’ll need them in a few hours.” He had to help her by pushing her hand toward her mouth, but she took the pills and washed them down with the last of her water.

  “Good girl,” he said with a smile. He drank the last mouthful of water from one of the bottles, then stood. “Promise me you won’t do that again. Can you promise me?” She didn’t make a sound but looked down at her feet. “I’ll take that to mean yes. Come on,” he said, holding his hand out.

  When she reached out, he took her hand as gently as he could and pulled her to her feet. Once she was standing, she griped his hand, holding onto it as she hobbled back to his bike. He stood his bike up and she stiffly climbed aboard. He cranked the Indian to life, letting it idle a moment to see what she did. After a moment her arms went around his waist again and his lips twisted into a sideways grin as he toed the bike into gear. He eased out of the gas station, taking it slow in case she got another wild urge to kill herself, then putt-putted along until they reached the entrance to the interstate.

  Gritting his teeth, hoping she learned her lesson, he gave the throttle a firm twist, the big bike rocketing up to speed as he prepared to merge with traffic.

  Chapter 8

  Arsen looped his bike around and then backed it into his spot at the Blacktop Blades’ clubhouse. He shut the bike down. After a moment, she carefully dismounted. They were in the teeth of the day’s heat and he was hot, sweaty, and road weary.

  He blew air out as he stepped into the paradise of the Blades clubhouse. The clubhouse, built twenty years ago, was one of his favorite places to be. Made with walls of pale Adobe and topped with rust colored Spanish tiles, the clubhouse looked more like a resort than a biker clubhouse. The interior was just as welcoming, with its the tile floors, slow spinning fans, bar, and comfortable leather furniture. It was a working clubhouse, providing the headquarters for the Blades to run their empire, but it was also where they could kick back, relax, and enjoy the fellowship of their brothers.

  News that something was up had spread; everyone seemed to be waiting to meet Arsen’s guest. Nobody knew what to expect, but this small battered woman wasn’t it.

  “What happened to her?” Michelle, Zane’s old lady, asked as she approached.

  “Don’t know,” Arsen replied. “She’s in shock or something and won’t talk. The fresh scrapes are from when she jumped off my motorcycle while it was still it was moving.”

  “Why’d she’d do that?”

  “I’d like to know that myself.” He stopped at the bar and pulled out two waters, handing one to his guest and keeping one for himself. He would pull himself a beer later, but he wanted to hydrate first. He opened his bottle, handed it to her, then took hers and opened it for himself.

  “What are we supposed to do with her?” Toni asked as the club began to gather around.

  “Take her to one of the guest rooms. See if she’ll let you clean her up, and see if we have anything that will fit her. Doc Holiday will be around in about an hour to check her out.”

  “Then what?” Michelle asked.

  “Then, we’ll see what Doc recommends.”

  Michelle exchanged a look with Toni and Cyra, then held her hand out to the woman. “Come on,” she said. “Let’s get you cleaned up and see what you look like.”

  The woman didn’t move. “Come on,” Arsen said, leading her to the back. “They’re not going to hurt you, I promise,” he said softly as he directed her towards one of the four guest suites. “Let them help you get cleaned up, and I’ll wait for you at the bar, okay?” She gripped his hand fiercely tight. He smiled. “Okay. I’ll wait right here.”

  She released his hand and he nodded to Michelle. As the women slowly undressed her, he could feel himself grimace in sympathy. She was a petite woman, a foot shorter than himself at perhaps five two or three, and her body was covered in bruises. Some were angry, dark and fresh, others older and turning yellow.

  “Sweet Jesus, what happened to her?” Toni murmured as more of her body and more bruises were revealed.

  “Someone has been beating the shit out of her,” Michelle murmured, her lips pressed tight in anger.

  Arsen felt rage and sickness churning in his stomach. If one of his brothers were to treat their old ladies or club girls like this, they would be out on their ass. Any man who treated a woman like this was no brother of his.

  “Let’s get you in the shower,” Michelle said, urging her along. “Toni, you’re closest to her size. Go see if you can find her something to wear.”

  The battered woman paused at the doorway to the bathroom and looked back at him. “I’ll be right here when you get out.” The moment he heard the shower door close, he returned to the bar. He needed a drink.

  “How is she?” Zane asked as he drew Arsen a beer.

  “Somebody has been beating the shit out of her. For a long time. She’s nothing but one big bruise.”

  Zane shook his head. “I don’t understand men like that. Michelle and I have had our fights, but I’ve never even thought about hitting her.”

  “This is more than hitting her, Zane. This has been going on for a while.” Arsen took a long pull from the mug, trying to settle his jangled nerves. “If I find out who did this, I’m going to give them a taste of their own medicine.” He stared into space for a time, then took another pull from the beer. “I need to get back in there so she won’t freak out when she gets out of the shower.”

  “She’s going to have to get over this. You can’t be her babysitter twenty-four seven.”

  “I know. But for now…” He shook his head. “It’s only been a few hours, and she did let the women undress her. We’ll see what Doc has to say, then we’ll go from there.” He took another large pull from the beer. “I better go.”

  He was standing in the corner as she stepped out of the shower. Dressed in fresh panties and bra, her hair washed and brushed, he could see she was lovely, or would be when she healed. He found himself really seeing her, for the first time. Her long, dark hair, wide eyes, and small, but curvy shape.

  “I had to wash her,” Michelle said, pulling at the woman’s wet shirt before it sucked back down to caress every curve of her ample breasts. “Has she said anything?”

  “Not a word.”

  Michelle shook her head as Toni selected clothing from the pile she’d brought into the room. With a little mix and match, they found her a pair of shorts and a blouse that almost fit her, and they helped her dress.

  “You’re safe here,” Arsen said softly, holding his hand out, and she came to him, taking his hand. He looked at the three women and nodded his thanks.

  He led her out of the room, back into the main part of the clubhouse, placing her in a large comfortable chair. She sat, but she didn’t relax back into the chair. Instead, she slumped, her hands clasped together between her knees. He brought her an open beer and an opened water, holding them both out. She looked up at him then reached out and took the water. He nodded, then sat down in the chair beside her and put his feet up on the ottoman, waiting with her until Doc Holiday showed up.

  Chapter 9

  “That her?” Doc asked as he approached. Tall and thin, Doc looked like a kindly grandf
ather, which was probably just what the woman needed.

  “That’s her,” Arsen said, rising to his feet to shake Doc’s hand. Doc looked frail, and Arsen knew from experience his touch was gentle, but he still had the grip of a vibrant man.

  “My, young lady, aren’t you a mess? Can you tell me what happened to you?” Doc asked, crouching down in front of her. When she didn’t answer, he looked up to Arsen.

  “I found her walking along the side of the interstate outside of Dateland. The freshest scrapes are from today, when she jumped off a moving motorcycle. I patched her up as best I could.”

  “Now why would you go and do a silly thing like that?” Doc asked with a smile as he lifted the edges of the bandages to examine her hands, knees and arms. “Just some surfaces abrasions. Nothing too deep. Probably won’t even scar, but I bet they hurt like hell.”

  She flinched away when Doc tried to touch her face. “Let him look at you,” Arsen said softly. “He’s the doctor. He’s here to help you. You can trust him.”