Outlaw's Ride: An MC Romance by Carter Steele (books recommended by bts .txt) 📕

of his torso. He furrowed his brows more than usual. “And ain't none of us are gonna give you back to the fucker that gave you yours. You're welcome to ride with us ‘til you find your place.”

I smiled softly and gave a small nod of thanks.

“I warn ya, it ain't a pretty life” Mac snorted through a haze of introspection. I could only imagine which examples of how unpretty it could be had sprung into his mind.

A pounding at the trailer door cut Mac off as he contemplated giving me an example. Mac checked his watch and frowned, muttering that it was too early for them to already be back and that Wreck better not have forgotten anything or else he'd tear him a new asshole for taking too long to go help the others.

“Wreck, you'd better have gotten word from Dreamer telling you to stay put or I swear to fucking God...” Mac muttered as he unbolted the high and low locks and pushed open the door.

The single gunshot that rang out shocked and tensed me like ice water dumped over my shoulders.

No no no. I instinctively turned away, not wanting to see Mac's lifeless body collapse. The sound of the impact sent an unreal shiver through me. How? How did he find us? I threw away the phone! It wasn't possible!

“That was easier than I thought,” said a hideously familiar voice as he climbed the short ladder into the trailer.

At first I thought about all the weapons in their armory for something to defend myself with, but Wreck had taken their entire arsenal with him when he left. It would probably have been a moot point anyway because I'd never even held a gun let alone used one to kill a person. Instead, I ran and tried to hide beneath their bunks. It wasn't a great plan but it was all I could come up with.

“Get him out of the way. It's been a long night. Last thing I need is to bust my ass tripping over him.” Patrick gestured dismissively as he set down a large red plastic container of what could only be some sort of gasoline or fuel.

From under the bunk I saw two of Patrick's thugs move Mac's body off to the side of the main doorway to the trailer. Patrick then told them to set up a perimeter outside the trailer and let him know when the rest of the MC was arriving.

“C'mon out, little Jezebel. I know you're here.” Patrick walked idly only half heartedly looking for me, the absurdity of the trailer being retrofit into a living space stole most of his attention at least initially. Watching him push objects around with his gun, casually knock things on to the floor and generally carelessly riffle through their lives felt so incredibly invasive.

Then he started indiscriminately pouring gasoline.

My heart raced the more he drew closer. With shaking, clumsy fingers I opened the latch to Buck's case that was beneath the bunk with me. Holding one of the decorative collector's spoons in my hand felt like the most useless thing in the world. I tucked it into my sock knowing that it was at least better than nothing.

“Don't make me come looking for you,” he said, the novelty of the place having worn off and his impatience setting in.

Knowing I couldn't hide forever I tucked the spoon away and I slid out from under the bed. My heart was heavy with thoughts of Wreck and the rest of the club.

“There she is,” he said with a wide smile and sweeping gesture, then beckoned me over to him. “You did even better than I hoped. We're almost done. You're almost free. All we have to do now is wait.”

Patrick didn't even need to gag me. I couldn't scream a warning if my life depended on it, but that was the worst part. It wasn't my life the warning depended on. I didn't know how long I'd been openly weeping in that dark trailer with a gun pressed against my ribs. An hour? The past seven years...

When Wreck and Yoga arrived carrying Buck and the lights were turned back on to show them all Patrick's handiwork I felt sick. Seeing the hurt and rage in their faces... It was all I could do not to throw up.

“Welcome home, gentlemen,” Patrick said, drawing all eyes in the room to us on the couch. “Don’t mind the smell. That’s just gasoline.”

“You motherfucker!” Wreck started towards us, but was stopped in his tracks as Patrick pushed the gun barrel hard into the side of my head.

“Just the three?” Patrick asked, then gestured at Buck who was in and out of consciousness. “Well two and a half really. Huh I thought more of you would have made it out. Dunk for sure.”

“Don't you fucking say his name,” Yoga growled, angrier than I'd ever seen the usually laid-back man. The blood covering him from holding up his brother made him look like a demon ready to snap at a moment's notice, but his clear, focused eyes and set jaw gave the impression that he was smart enough to wait for the perfect time to get his revenge.

“Kill you...” Buck muttered weakly, doing everything he could to keep his head up enough to glower at Patrick. He'd lost so much blood and looked visibly pale. My heart ached for him. We needed to get him some help soon or he wasn't going to make it!

The toilet in the bathroom flushed killing all the conversation. The sink ran and the sounds of washing and rinsing hands were crystal clear throughout the rest of the trailer. Mikhail stepped out drying his hands, his large pistol tucked away in plain view across his chest in a holster. I didn't know what kind of gun it was only that it was gigantic, bigger than any I'd ever seen before.

“Hello,” Mikhail said in a heavy accent with a curt nod to the whole