Outlaw Road (A MC Romance) (7 page)

Let me go,
I thought, trying to will him with my pathetic stare.

As he squinted down at me, I focused on the deep, dark centers of his pupils... the bright flecks of green in that swam in the hazel... and I thought, odd as it was, that he had the most gorgeous eyes I'd ever seen.

My moment of sick tranquility ended in a bustle of movement. Easily he lifted me, throwing me over his shoulder and giving me vertigo.
No,
I thought desperately.
No, don't take me away from here!

Didn't he see I didn't want to go?

Wasn't it clear this was the only way I would ever get answers?

Jostled so that my chin thumped his spine, I sensed the sudden crispness of the air outside. There was a buzzing, wasp-like noise following at our heels. I had no time to adjust to anything; in a new motion, I was yanked around, my legs dangling off of something hard.

He spoke again, demanding I hang on. He said more, but the cotton in my head swallowed it all. I battled between gagging and passing out, praying that my limbs would keep me in place as we began to move.

The energy between my thighs was familiar. Metallic, raw, it tickled my memory.
A motorcycle.
Clasping violently to the torso of my unlikely rescuer, I grounded myself in my realization.
We're on a motorcycle. Where are we going?

Flooded with the floating sensation of speed, I hugged the bike with my knees. It was comforting—it reminded me so much of
her.
Clean air helped to wash the drug-funk from my head, my skin and muscles behaving again, though sluggishly.

I hadn't understood how messed up I was until the last of my recent dose seeped out of me. Under my palms, the smooth texture of the man's leather jacket was exquisite. When we hit a hard turn, throwing me against him, I caught a hint of his scent.

Pine,
I thought idly.
And something... something more wild.

“You awake back there?”

His voice startled me, cutting through my private thoughts. He'd slowed the bike's speed, our voices now audible over the crackling of the engine. Licking my dry bottom lip, I said, “You need to take me back.”

When he laughed, I felt it through his spine. “That's a funny way of saying 'thanks for saving my ass.'”

“Turn around,” I said, sitting up to try and get my bearings. “I mean it! I need to go back!” Where were we, what part of the country was I even in? I didn't know—I needed to know so many things. “Take me back to there, do it!”

We hit a rough patch in the road. Immediately I lost my balance, all signs that I was recovering from my weakened state vanishing. Red tickled at the edges of my vision, my head swimming.

An arm curled around, digging into my hip and stabilizing me. “Careful!” he snapped. “Sugar, there's no way we're going back to the brothel. You're in no state for any more action, and even if you were...” Trailing off, he led his bike down a slope, kicking up gravel.

Brothel,
I thought in cold amazement. Yes, of course. That made a lot of sense. What better place to corral lost girls than a den of sex and money.

Everything was throbbing; I couldn't focus beyond the yellow headlights. When they flickered over a squat building, revealing coffee colored paint and a quaint red roof, I thought I must have fainted. Was this a new dream?

Rough palms yanked me from the bike, ending that theory.

“Put me down,” I groaned, shoving feebly at the stranger. I didn't know who he was, and I'd become far less trusting as of late.

Amazingly he released me, stepping away to shoot a patient look over my face. Whatever he saw, it made him frown. Catching my curious stare, he smiled and said, “You look right fucked up. That shit still burning through your system?”

Swallowing nervously at his observation, I pulled my coat tightly around me. “Take me back. I
need
to go back there.”

Sighing, he straightened up, turning away from me. His silence was heavy. Weirdly, I would have preferred if he'd shouted or snapped or
something.
Being ignored was... well, it hit too close to home.

In a few hops, he climbed the front steps. Knocking on the wood, he didn't wait long for an answer. A new man appeared, cracking the door open with a friendly grin that vanished when he spotted his visitor. “Shit, Ronin? Is that you?”

Ronin?
Blinking, I reconsidered the long haired biker.
Is that his name?

Saluting in a sharp jerk, two fingers to his forehead, Ronin chuckled. “Long time no see, Roach.”

“Not long enough,” the gaunt, shiny-faced man mumbled. “And it's Lewis, not Roach. You know that.”

“Sorry, my memory isn't so good at times.” Ronin's eyes twinkled.

Squeezing the edge of the door, Lewis started to say more—but then he spotted me. His skin faded into milky white. “I didn't think you liked them that fucked up.”

Ronin shifted, giving me a side-eye. “Club business. We need a room for the night.”

Lewis was already scowling, fidgeting in the doorway. If he was also unhappy with the biker, maybe he'd be willing to help me where Ronin wasn't.

My plan was to walk forward, open my mouth, and calmly explain that I
did not
need a room. What I needed was a ride back to the brothel, before my one chance at finding Claudine slipped away.

One shaking leg held me up; that was all I had in me. Gasping, I reached out, balancing myself on the motorcycle seconds before stumbling into the dirt. My ears were echoing, but through them, I heard Lewis mumble, “Fucking hell, Ronin.”

Gingerly, Ronin slid an arm around my middle. I couldn't fight him off, I didn't even try. Moving my eyes too fast made me dizzy, so I watched the ground while he led me onto the porch.

“She's pretty when she gets all wobbly,” he said, then his flippancy turned flat as a rancid pond. “Like I said. We need a fucking room. Care to oblige?”

Huffing, Lewis moved to the side, waving us into the building. “I'm legitimate now, I can't be getting mixed up in your bullshit anymore, Ronin.”

“Come on, Roach, you know you always loved my bullshit.” He held me to his ribs, my cheek pressing on his warmth. It was comforting, as much as I hated to admit it. “Show me where to put her. I think she's—”

“Flora,” I cut him off, my voice thick. “My name is Flora.”

Hesitating, Ronin adjusted his hold on me. “Show me where to put Flora. I'd rather she not break her jaw if she passes out. Nice place, you know? Hate to get blood on anything.”

“Upstairs,” Lewis sighed. “What's wrong with her? She a junkie?”

My spine tightened at that word.

“She's got some juice in her, but it'll pass. Speaking of, privacy would be best while she sweats it out.”

Lewis sounded less than impressed. “There's no one else here, couples don't usually book in until the weekend.”

Chuckling, Ronin guided me up the creaking wooden stairs. “I've never stayed at a Bed and Breakfast before, I wouldn't know.” It didn't take him long to get me to our room, the dark hallway easing the tension in my eyes. Gripping the knob, he half-carried me over the threshold.

The room was quaint, a fluffy white bed and a small, oval-shaped pinkish rug that could use some updating. It reminded me of something from a Martha Stewart's catalog. Considering the violent events of the evening, ending up in such a gentle place felt... wrong.

“Sit on the bed,” he said firmly.

Pulling away from him, I slumped onto the edge of the mattress. Lifting my eyes, I forced every bit of strength I had left into my words. “I don't care if I can barely stand. You
need
to take me back.”

“That again,” he groaned, scratching at the back of his head. “You're serious, aren't you?” Shaking his head in a slow swing, Ronin leaned on the doorway. “I have the worst luck with damsels. Trust me, I was doing you a favor.”

His tone was amused, but I thought—I thought there was something hollow in his eyes. I didn't have the energy to examine it, not now. “Please, you don't understand. Those men... they're the only ones who know where my sister is.”

Ronin arched his brows, but he didn't move otherwise. “Your sister?”

Shivering, I looked down at my palms, spreading my fingers. “Claudine. She's all I have, and those guys know where she is. If I go back, I... maybe I can find her.”

“You have no idea how any of this works, do you? Okay, so you go back. What stops those men from raping and killing you?”

His blunt words made me cringe. “I don't care. If I can save her, that's all that matters.”

“Martyr is an ugly color on everyone.” Flicking his hair over his shoulder, Ronin considered me for a long minute. “You'd do anything to get back there, huh?”

My heart thumped, control flowing slowly back to my muscles. Gripping my jacket, I leaned forward. “Yes, god, yes. Anything.”

Looking over my head, he nodded at the shower. “Clean yourself up. Just be careful not to faint and drown. It's been fun so far, I'd rather not end the night disposing of a body.”

Baffled, I dropped my jaw. “What? But, aren't you driving me back to the brothel?”

“You might have missed the part where they were shooting at us.” Wrinkling his forehead, Ronin smiled. “I'm betting they probably won't be all that happy to see me again anytime soon.” Turning in the doorway, he twisted just enough to watch me. “So, no. A return trip isn't in the cards.”

With my insides knotting fiercely, I started to stand. “Then why did you ask me if I'd do anything...
anything...
to get back there?”
Why be so cruel?
I was swept up in the madness and unfairness of my situation. My sanity was disintegrating like burning tissues.

The light of the room highlighted Ronin from behind; the hallway was dark, welcoming him into its shadows like an old friend. He didn't look back as he spoke, but I thought, if he had, I would have seen the hardness in his face.

“I had to gauge how much of a lying junkie you actually were, to see if I needed to lock you in.” His knuckles squeezed, bloodless. “Now I know. Thanks.”

And then he was gone.

Jumping up, I slammed into the door, jiggled the handle in wild frustration. I was still weak, but my disbelief—my genuine anger—was making me flare with energy.
He really did it! He locked me in!

Ronin hadn't believed my story... and he'd locked me in.

Gritting my teeth, I pounded with my fists. “Let me out! Hey! Let me
OUT!
I'm not lying to you!” All the fury that had been building, all the cold guilt at my own defeat, came pouring out in one go. I screamed, vocal chords shredding by the end. “Let me out, let me fucking out! I need to save my sister!”

I'm all she has, I...

My hands were numb, the skin red and peeling. I couldn't hold myself up, my legs shaking me down to the floor. As my cheek pressed to the wood, I bared my teeth in a soft, desolate sob. This couldn't be happening. Of all the things I'd run into, a damn door would defeat me?

Kneeling, I turned around, hugging myself until my teeth stopped clicking. My insides still trembled, fingers clenching and popping when I opened them. The hot tears came, summoned in spite of my exhaustion.

For Claudine, I would always have tears.

I need to calm down.
My heart was ratcheting around, throwing itself heavily into my ribs.
I need to take a breath, breathe... just breathe...

Sniffling, I scrubbed at my eyes. Crying wasn't going to help me. I was too hot suddenly, wishing I could just roll into some fresh snow. How had it gotten so warm in here?

I slumped deeper, unzipping my coat as I went. Sweat coated me, old and new. Some was from my trauma, the rest from my exertion. Doing anything felt like a struggle, and I longed to return to my former self; the me that had never met a needle.

With the coat gone, I looked down on the pale flesh of my bare arms. I hadn't seen them since the start, but now, the swollen red pricks caught my eye. Flinching, I ran a fingertip over them, horror sinking in.

I'd known that I'd been drugged, but the physical proof... the scarring... it painted a new reality.

She'll need to sweat it out.

Ronin's words echoed in me. I knew what heroin marks looked like. Claudine had worn such obvious scars, but she'd hidden hers better with time, shooting between her toes to keep the evidence secret.

Swelling with sorrow, I brushed my wrist, watched my veins flex.
This sensation... the good parts, and now, this awful weakness... is this what you go through all the time, Claudine?
The visual was too much. I was sticky, and gross, and the need for sleep was weighing on me by the second.

Using the door, I got to my feet. The shower Ronin had pointed to called to me. Eagerly, I filled the bathroom with steam, stripping down in preparation for the scalding water.

In the bright lights of the mirror, I saw myself—and I stopped. The undersides of my eyes were shiny, too purple. My hair was a mess, a few spots clumping together. Turning, I touched gingerly at a wide bruise on my outer thigh. When I did, a fuzzy memory of someone kicking me floated into my mind.

How long was I mixed up with my kidnappers?

Though, to be fair, it wasn't like I was free now. Ronin acted like my savior, but he'd still locked me up in a room and stolen my rights away.

He thinks I'm a liar.
That was a sobering thought. It cooled my mood, helped ground me to the present. If Ronin thought I actually wanted to get back to the brothel because it'd get me more drugs, fine. He could think what he wanted. Nothing he thought about me mattered.

All I had to do was escape. Let him judge me if he wanted.

I'll get out of here,
I told myself, slipping under the deliciously hot water.
I'll get free and find Claudine.

In a way, I hadn't been lying to Ronin.

I really
would
do anything to get back there.

Ronin

––––––––

F
lora's outraged screams ricocheted throughout the empty second floor hall. It was a good thing no one else was here, otherwise Roach might have grown a backbone and put up a fuss about us staying. Not that it mattered, we'd have stayed anyways.