I turn to Viking. “Is this what we are now?” I ask, still pissed that the brothers could’ve died for some dumb shit. Don’t get me wrong, drugs are an issue, one we don’t need clouding Texas up with. Their lives, however, mean more to me than sending a message to another club in our territory.
“We’re a club about doing whatever the fuck we want, and we’ve always been that way. The free life takes money, brother, and this was a quick payday. A big one with minimal work, thanks to the Russians wanting to export this shit.”
“We’re also a club about family,” I grumble. “And your asses nearly died. We’re getting too old to constantly keep testing fate. One day it’ll come to collect, and it won’t be pretty.”
“You getting sentimental on us, old man?” Saint smirks, and I give him the bird.
“Fuck off, you’re not much younger than my ass.”
“You’re old enough to be our father,” he points out.
“If I’d had the prez at fifteen, then maybe, but I was too busy playing ball to worry about pussy.”
“Hmm,” Viking grunts out while Torch gives me a chin lift. At least one asshole of the bunch appreciates my concern. Probably because he’s a father himself and knows the value of life when it comes to someone you care about. These men are my brothers, and damn straight, I don’t want to lose any of them.
“I’m wiped. We ready to finish this shitshow?” I eventually mutter. “What are we doing with the woman in the truck?”
“Yeah, Nightmare has the pickup. He’ll follow us and give you a ride back to the club. I’ll let Knees know about the woman. I’m sure he’ll tell his men to take her with them. We don’t need her around us where she could possibly identify anything.”
I nod and watch as he pulls his phone out to text. He’s probably telling Tate, aka Tatkiv ‘Knees’ Masterson, about the woman right now. “Anybody got an extra shirt or a jacket I can have? The woman in the truck doesn’t have any clothes,” I ask the group of brothers standing around, waiting for us to leave.
“I’ve got a shirt,” one of the twins offers. He digs out a long-sleeved t-shirt from his saddlebag and hands it over.
“I appreciate it.” I take it and climb back into the truck. “My brother had a shirt for you. It’s not much, but it’s something. When we get to the next stop, I’ll let you up, and you can put it on, okay?”
She nods, tears still streaming down her cheeks as I drape the shirt across her lap and wrap the arms lightly around her neck. My heart aches for her, seeing her like this. I kick the heater on in the semi and turn a country station low on the radio, hoping to offer her some semblance of comfort. I wait a beat until the brothers load up and pull out. I follow Nightmare. He obviously knows where we’re going since he’s giving me a lift back home.
We end up down the highway a little way, pulling onto a dirt road. It leads to the ranch that borders the farm and club’s property. We’ve offered to help the rancher out if he ever needs it as long as he doesn’t poke around on club property. His wife is a sweet lady, cooked us all a fried chicken dinner with biscuits and mashed potatoes, and then sent us home with enough pie to serve us for a week. Needless to say, they left a good impression, and they’ve done well minding their business. Those are the best type of neighbors to have.
I keep my word, freeing the woman and pulling the shirt over her head when her limbs loosen up. “Don’t panic. We don’t want to hurt you. You were in a bad spot, and it looks like we came at the right time. No telling what those assholes would’ve done to you.”
Her chin wobbles, then she says, “Thank you.”
I probably terrify her in my black getup with my bandana concealing my identity, but there’s no way I’m removing it so she can pick me out of a lineup. “The guys out there won’t have all this going on either.” I gesture to my face.
She shrugs. “I don’t mind it. You’re a dark angel.”
My lips tip. A dark angel, hmm... I never thought of it that way. At this rate, I’ll take it. I need any fucking compliments I can get with the way tonight went down. I have to redeem my soul in some small way, and hopefully, this tips me on the good side of God rather than sending me down below without a judgment day. “Behave yourself, doll, don’t give these men any issues, and they’ll be good to you. Tell ‘em to get you some food, and they’ll hit up a drive-thru or something. Hopefully, one of them has some more clothes you can wear too.”
“Ready?” Torch pops his head in.
I stand, releasing the woman’s feet from her restraints. I offer her my palm, and she stands before me. Her small hand reaches up and falls to my cheek, and I move to hold my bandana in place.
She leans up on her tiptoes and places a kiss on the bandana covering my chin. “I don’t need to know anything about you, all I care about is that you saved me. I’ll pray for you, my dark angel.” She steps around me, leaving me speechless. It’s not that often someone has that effect on me, but her words hold weight.
I need peace and redemption. She’s offered to pray for me, and it’s the best gift anyone can offer me at this point in my life. She pauses beside Torch and then follows him to the waiting Mercedes. The Russians will treat her well. If I didn’t already know as much, I’d be stopping her from leaving with them.
Releasing a pent-up breath, I swiftly wipe down the truck and step out. I head for the pickup and Nightmare.
“You straight?” he asks as soon as my ass finds the seat.
I slam the door shut, turning to him. “It was crazy tonight, but surprisingly, I am.” I have a feeling it was all because of that woman too. If I hadn’t been in the position to offer her help, my night would’ve been shit. It’s crazy how a passing chance with another human can control the way your day or night turns out.
“Let’s go home, brother,” I say and send a text to my motorcycle contact. I need a new bike dropped off as soon as possible, and I have just the guy to make it happen. One of the perks of being a famous athlete, I suppose. Too bad most of the other shit that comes along with the title sucks.
Chapter 8
My phone pulls me from my dream. It was a sordid sort of nightmare—I was the one naked and strapped in that semi instead of the woman I found. My ex-wife had me tethered down while she trekked across the country. A bit symbolic, I suppose, to how she’s weighed down my soul all these years with her cheating and lies. We were high school sweethearts in our own way, as she’d been the only chick I’d dated when I was a senior.
I was dumb enough to believe that since she’d dated me before I hit the NFL, when we were a mere seventeen years old, she’d be a safe bet. She knew the real me, and there was no way she’d betray me. Boy, was I wrong. I thought I’d made peace with everything over the years, so why the jacked-up dream last night? I kept fighting the restraints to get free, but no matter how hard I tried, I was stuck. I can’t let this be my reality, so I have to figure a way out of it.
My phone rings again, drawing me out of my hazy thoughts. Snatching it up, I’m caught off guard by the caller. The bastard never calls me, he’s a texter, not that I can blame him. I hate the chit-chat, too, unless it’s my kid and grandbaby. “Ripper?” I greet, my voice gruff from sleep.