Outlaw Road (A MC Romance) (15 page)

The way Roach had shuddered on top of me when he'd died rumbled through my mind.

“Gonna fucking get you, bitch,” the man panted. Sweat joined the blood staining his face. In the pits of his skull, his eyes were dying stars. “Gonna... fucking...”

Ronin's foot came down, crunching against my attacker's jaw. That was all that was needed to drop him. And I knew, this time, he wouldn't be getting up.

With wild-fire burning in his hazel eyes, Ronin stared me down. “You know, there are easier ways to get yourself killed. This was literally the only place I told you not to come into. What the hell are you doing?”

The distress in his hard features was clear. I was too relieved to let him fill me with shame. Jumping up, I shoved the gun into my back pocket. “Thank you,” I said, finding my voice. “I... just thank you. You saved me again.”

Running a hand over his scalp, the biker fixed me with a side-eye. “Yeah, not a habit we should get used to. Again,
what
were you doing?”

Nodding down at the man who'd tried to slay me, I said, “Getting information.”

Ronin's palm slid down to his mouth, staying there. His tone was muffled and hollow. “What information?”

“Claudine.” Blood thumped through my ears. I was eager to tell him. “I know where they're keeping her.”

“Oh wonderful,” he chuckled sourly. Casually, he waved an arm in a swath over the chaos of the kitchen. “So you're going to load up in that car out there with your brand new gun and white-hot determination, driving up on those who wronged you as some kind of glorious, vigilante movie hero?”

In the face of his sarcasm, I did the only thing I could.

I nodded.

“Yeah,” I said thoughtfully. “I guess I am.”

His eyebrows touched his hairline, and though I couldn't see his mouth behind his hand, I thought he sounded... proud. “Of course you are.”

Thinking about the photo upstairs, I said, “I'm going to grab some things, like you suggested, then I'm heading out. It's a long drive to Miami.”

Considering me, Ronin scratched his jaw. “Miami, huh?” He was looking elsewhere, seeing things I didn't. For a moment he was lost in thought. I ached to crack open his head and glimpse those cryptic thoughts.

Crouching, he began searching the bodies of the three men. With my belly tight, I didn't ask him what he was doing until he was on the second man. “What are you...?”

Lifting up a wallet, he pocketed the cash. “There are a lot of tolls between here and Florida, and I don't think my EZ pass is up to date.”

Hope flared within me, sparking behind my eyelids. As he glanced back at me, I knew the answer—didn't dare voice the question.

Squinting severely, Ronin finished his search, stepping back to me with a husky sigh. “Go ahead, what is it?”

Shit, my heart was too loud. “Are you... are we both...?”

Placing his hands on my shoulders, he turned me, giving me a firm push. “Grab whatever valuables you can find. I'll place an anonymous tip with the organized crime unit, make it sound like Roach wasn't paying for protection and they killed him for it. The extra heat will keep the Knights too busy to harass us. Well, at least for a little while.”

Us.

Stumbling in the doorway, I twisted to watch him. “I don't get it. Why, suddenly, are you going to help me?”

Cupping his own throat, the biker leaned his weight to one side. There was blood on his clothes, a dark bruise on his face from where Roach had hit him. By all rights, he should have been a mess, but somehow—even now—the man managed to look confident and relaxed.

I told myself that my heart was only pounding because I was relieved.

“For some insane reason, you're not going to stop,” he finally said. “And part of that is on me. So, I owe you one. I'll get you to where you need to go but... that 's where all this ends. After that, you're on your own.” Ronin looked around and gave a resigned chuckle. “I've got my own world of shit to deal with.”

He was doing his best to make it clear; his help came with an expiration date. Ronin had his own agenda, but the thing was, so did I. For now, I was getting what I needed.

A deadly escort.

My own personal guardian angel.

Angel,
I thought, nearly laughing at the word. Ronin wasn't an angel, not even close. No matter what, I needed to remind myself that—even if he'd rescued me multiple times—the guy wasn't on my side. Not truly.

Yes,
I thought, watching the biker's forearms as they flexed when he checked his gun.
I have to remember what I'm doing here. And I have to remember who he is.
In the kitchen sunlight, Ronin's jaw was sharp, regal.

He looked every bit like a hero.

Except he wasn't

Danger and death slept in the same bed with Ronin. I only had to look around to see what he was so perfectly capable of.

The man was a killer... but for now?

He was
my
killer.

I didn't dare let him become anything more.

Ronin

––––––––

T
he days that slipped by after the massacre were nirvana in comparison. 

I'd used the Serbian's cell phone to find out what I could about the girls' location. Almost everything club related was coded, but we did confirm the crossroad location that had been mentioned.

But that wasn't all.

There was also a reference to a 'cruise ship' that was leaving in a few days. The Knights didn't strike me as the coed spring break type, so that must have been in regards to when they needed to get the slaves ready for shipment.

Flora, of course, wanted to drive through the night to get there as fast as possible, but that wasn't happening. We'd be exhausted by the time we got to the site where the girls were. I didn't want to imagine how anyone would handle something so risky with no sleep in their system.

No, if Flora truly wanted the best shot at saving her sister, then we'd have to be reasonable. She'd need to be rested... and she'd need the element of surprise. On my bike, we'd fly beneath the radar.

This also meant slowing down, avoiding most of the main roads, and in doing so, something unique happened.

We had time to breathe, to experience the ride itself.

Something I hadn't done in far too long.

The weather was unseasonably nice. It felt like a vacation. All through the Carolinas, we carved a path down back roads that I'd never heard of. The defiantly warm sun ducked in and out of sparse, wispy clouds that hung lazily in a calm blue sky.

I picked up a map at a one-pump gas station in a town so small that I'm not sure it even had a name. It took us past endless, tree-lined farms and through other similarly slow, modest towns. Lush, beautifully dying fields that were topped with stubborn shocks of purple and white flowers swayed at our passing.

People waved from porches with lemonade in their hands and a shotgun leaning against the door. This was a different world, it was docile and steeped in tradition—some good and some bad—but all genuine.

The landscape was infinite, gorgeous, and breathtakingly serene. The face of God blanketed the countryside, it was easy to see why most towns were centered around immaculate looking churches.

Neither of us planned on the sense of commonality that had been reinforced every time we compared what we'd seen along the way during our stops for food, gas, or to use the restroom. We had a joint sense of bewilderment at the shared experience of seeing truly foreign sights, like the mildly racist Bingo-Bongos' restaurant chain, or the quintessentially southern Pig & Wiggles supermarket.

We were forced to go at the speed of the trip itself, no faster. So with long rides that were too loud to talk, it left both of us with time to reflect, to just feel the road beneath the wheels and to live in the moment.

I'd rode down south before, but never like this.

From the way Flora nestled into my back through it all, hugging me, I was willing to bet that she hadn't either.

Flora...

The experiences we'd shared together had intertwined so thoroughly that it was hard to separate Flora from the
moment
itself
.

I knew it was dangerous to let myself get caught up in her, but I couldn't help it. At the rare traffic light, when I'd lean my head back to ask if she needed a break, I could smell her hair and feel her breath on my cheek. The more she squeezed me, the more I wanted to languish in her.

There was, of course, this lingering sense of dread; me for my club, her for her sister, but it wasn't overbearing. Not yet. I was sure all that would change once we crossed the Florida state line, but that was tomorrow's problem.

Right now there was just Flora, me, and miles of empty road.

I couldn't remember the last time I'd felt this at ease.

****

A
dvance Auto Parts, Pizza Hut, Family Dollar and other familiar franchise stores had started to pollute the periphery. With Hilliard a stone's throw away, the abrupt but welcome vacation was finally coming to a close.

This was it, the one last night that held us together.

The sun was setting over the sloped red roof of the Tuffy Two restaurant when we turned into the parking lot.

“Hungry?” I asked, kicking down the side stand and turning off the bike.

Flora peeled herself off me, extending her arms as high as she could as she did a long stretch. I was immediately drawn to the slice of her creamy midriff that was revealed in the process. “Where are we?”

“The last diner in Georgia, from the looks of it.

“Huh. I was really hoping for barbeque.”

“I can still turn us around. I know this great place about a day's ride in the opposite direction.” I smirked and gave a shrug.

Flora raised her eyebrows, they told me that she wasn't having any of my shit. It was a refreshing change of pace from what I was used to. “I'll get us a table,” she said.

I nodded and watched her go. She let her hair down and shook it out as she walked. Despite the leather biker pants and strapless halter top I'd suggested, Flora wore a very modest light blue T-shirt and a pair of khaki pants. We'd picked up a change of clothes, something without blood splattered on them.

With time, Flora had finally relaxed enough for me to see that she was truly unlike any girl I'd ever known. I'd come to notice that she was clumsy and awkward and would smile at weird times, all of which I found endearing. In addition to that, she was a mix of stubbornness, naivete and spitfire that was infuriating, but also sexy as hell.

That made what was coming all that much worse.

I pulled out my phone, calling some old contacts that might be in a position to get me out of the country. It was a long shot, so I wasn't holding my breath. When no one answered, I figured they'd either moved on or were dead.

What was I going to do after I dropped this girl off? Where could I go as a hunted man?

Nowhere.

With the long rides, I'd had a lot of time to think. Although I didn't see it before, all I'd done as a nomad was run. I ran from everything and everyone that might slow me down. That's why I joined the Steel Veins to begin with; they embraced that culture.

But no matter how hard I ran, or how much pussy or trouble I used as a distraction, those old ghosts...

They always found a way to catch up.

I was tired of running.

By now, the Knights must've spread the news that I was no longer protected. They'd probably have a bounty on me after what I'd done at Roach's.

I looked down at my rough, scarred hands and thought of the countless storms they'd weathered.
I guess it's all just a matter of time, now.

As for Flora... Well, I tried not to think about the chances of her surviving the next meeting with the Knights. I didn't have much faith that either of us would last long in Miami.

I saw through the window that she'd ordered us a round of waters. Regardless of whether I asked for it or not, she'd done the same thing every time we'd gone to a restaurant.

She had this inherent sense of minding for others that I found charming. Surprisingly enough, past the trauma and zealot-like focus, Flora was the best traveling companion I'd ever had. I couldn't have asked for a better way to spend my last days.

After I dropped Flora off, I was going to find the seediest game of cards around, get liquored up till I could barely stand, then make as much noise as possible and wait for the end.

It wasn't while cooking in a well stocked kitchen, but all things considered, it wasn't a bad way to go out, either.

I headed in.

“Everything alright?” she asked when I sat down.

I looked her over wearing my usual smirk; one that had grown more honest as I spent time with this woman. I took a sip of my water and replied, “Right as rain, Darlin'.”

It was dinner time, so the place was packed with what looked like the regular crowd. We ordered and ate. It was typical diner fare, made with more gristle than love for my liking, but I'd had worse, and Flora didn't seem to mind.

I was chasing my dry Salisbury steak down with some beer when I caught two men at the bar eyeballing me. After a few seconds, they turned back around and talked between themselves.

“What is it?” Flora asked, noticing that my demeanor had become more tense.

I watched the two guys pay their tab and leave. “Nothing,” I said, taking another sip of beer. “It was probably just locals that didn't take kindly to outsiders. Tell me about Claudine. What's she like?”

She sat back, lips tightening dubiously. “I think you're the first person to ask me that. I mean, first that wasn't trying to find a way to sleep with her.”

“Well, I always did have a thing for junkies. She cute?”

Flora's eyes narrowed. It was clear she took offense. “You're determined to make me hate you.”

I kept quiet, hiding behind a sharp grin.
That would be easier, wouldn't it...

Stirring her straw in the water, she hesitated. “Don't call her that word.” When I said nothing, she pressed on, not seeming to need my answer. “Growing up, it always felt like it was me and her against the world. My family was—is—very poor. We struggled for everything we ever had. I hated it. I hated the pity, I hated the disdain. It always felt like I started life a mile behind everyone else, and it didn't matter how fast I ran, I could never catch up.”