“I said get out.”
He finally looked up at me, and to my surprise, instead of getting angry that I had a gun pointed at his face, he smirked.
“That’s a lot of heat for someone so pretty to carry.”
I couldn’t see his eyes behind the thick black sunglasses he had on, nor could I see much of his face behind the short brown beard, but damn that voice was gripping me by the ovaries. Gruff, sexy, and riddled with mystery.
“What?” I was flummoxed. Seriously, I had no idea what to say. I wasn’t expecting him to compliment me like that and it totally threw me off my game.
“I said, that’s a lot of heat for someone so pretty to carry.”
My finger tapped nervously against the trigger. I couldn’t tell if he was fucking with me or flirting with me.
“You should probably leave before I shoot you.”
The corners of his mouth ticked upward as his smirk slid into a full smile. For a second I was paralyzed. It’s been a long time since a man has made me feel this nervous.
“Are you really going to shoot a man that’s been on a very long ride and only looking to buy a drink?”
“We don’t serve outside patrons in this bar.” I tried to control my hand, but the nerves shook through me, the gun bouncing in my quaking grasp.
“That’s too bad, because I got a dry mouth and a lot of money burning through my pocket that I’m looking to spend.” He pulled a wad of cash out of his pocket and threw it on the table.
I had to admit, the bar was in desperate need of some new business. My brother did his best to keep us afloat, but most members didn’t like to pay for their drinks and serving alcohol to non-paying customers didn’t help keep the lights on.
“If they catch you in here, they’ll kill you.”
“I’m willing to take that chance.” He slid off his sunglasses and my heart literally stopped beating inside of my chest. There’s something about him that made me unable to move—a strange feeling, one that I hadn’t felt in a very long time, ignited a spark deep inside my belly. Men didn’t turn me on this way—I only used them for sex and made sure never to get too close, but the twinkle in this man’s eye after it gave me a quick wink, had my face heating up like a volcano. What the fuck was happening to me?
My arms dropped, taking my guard down with it, and what I said next surprised me.
“So, tell me, Stranger, what’s your poison?”
His smile spread even further. “Darling, I thought you’d never ask.”
Chapter Two
Holden
I had to compose myself when I walked through the bar door. I wasn’t expecting to see her so soon, but there she was, standing behind the bar, looking even more beautiful than when I last saw her. I stood there for a second just staring at her, before I quickly found a booth near the back of the bar. I didn’t want to blow my cover too soon, and the longer I stood there, the more eager I was to tell her I had come back for her. I could feel her eyes watching me the whole time, and when she started shouting at me, I couldn’t help but smile.
This woman was nothing like the Faith I remembered. She was sassy and strong. She handled a gun like she actually knew how to use it, even if her hand shook like it was rattled with nerves. The Faith I left behind wouldn’t touch a gun. She didn’t want to get involved in the club business; now she was running their bar.
I think back to that night I was shot and how her image was the only thing that drove me to dig myself out of that grave. I remember that night very vividly, almost as if I was still clawing my way out of the earth, desperate to breathe in clean air again.
Dirt clung to my tongue like a thick paste that clogged the back of my throat. I woke up briefly as my attacker shoveled dirt down on top of me, but I was in shock and couldn’t call out for help. I’ll admit, I was a little bit afraid, too. If I called out for help, he’d just shoot me again, but this time he would finish the job.
I waited until I heard the muffled roar of a motorcycle speeding away before I started digging my way back up to the surface. My back was killing me, and the more I moved, the more it felt like I was fighting for air.
Clawing my way out of the ground was a lot harder than I expected. My body was deteriorating, and I could barely get my muscles moving as I attempted to escape the shallow grave I was placed in. Three feet more and I would’ve never found salvation, but whoever buried me was in a hurry, and they forgot one very important thing . . . I was a big man—a man who had the strength of twenty tanks when my adrenaline kicked in.
I had to punch my way to the surface, holding what was left of my breath as I fought with the soil that held me down in my underground prison. Somehow, despite all the odds, I had survived. Pulling a three-hundred and fifty-pound body out of the dirt was not easy for me—not when I’d been shot in the back and was bleeding out externally.
Once I was free, I laid on top of my grave, gasping for breath as blood seeped out of my wound. I needed help, but there was nobody I could trust anymore—at least no one that was connected with the club. So, I did what any other man would do after almost being murdered. I found a large log nearby, rolled it very painfully over to the grave, dropped it in the hole and covered it up. If my attacker ever came back, the log would at least give him the impression that something was buried below. Hopefully, he didn’t return to dig up my body and bury me somewhere else.
I knew that my bike was probably still near the road, my attacker didn’t have time to get rid of it. He’d probably come back later to dispose of it when fewer people were out. I hobbled out toward the highway and found my bike hidden under some loose brush in the tree line. I barely noticed it. If it wasn’t for the moonlight hitting the chrome just right, I probably would’ve never seen it at all. My attacker had moved my bike, but only enough to not bring any attention to it.
I groaned as I picked the heavy machine up off the ground and pushed it out of the brush. Then it took all the effort I had left in my body to get the bike started. Moving made the pain even worse, and I swear the wound in my back was oozing out even more blood. I knew if I didn’t get help fast, I’d be dead by sunup. Once the bike was started, I somehow managed to drive to the nearest hospital in town. It was only five miles away, but it was well into Viper territory. At that moment, I didn’t care. All I wanted to do was survive the night. I pulled into the small hospital’s emergency loading dock and collapsed just outside the door. Everything that happened from there was a blur.
I had no memories of staying in the hospital or who I was at the time. At least, that’s what I let the hospital believe when I finally came to. My identification, my cut, everything that identified me as part of the Devil’s Armada had been stripped from my body before I was buried. The doctor’s called me John Doe, and I didn’t correct them, because if anyone knew I was alive, I’d be dead by the next morning. After three days of admittance and recovery, and a lot of probing questions from a local cop I chose not to answer, I left that tiny hospital and never looked back. I left everything behind that day. I ditched my bike deep in Viper country, taking the wheels off and some chrome to make it look like it had been chopped, then I hitched a ride on a semi-truck that drove all the way to Dallas. My only regret was not finding Faith before I left and begging her to come with me.