CHAPTER SEVEN
I can’t believe I’m doing this.
Making amends?
Me?
I snort. I’m not one to care if someone doesn’t like me.
In fact, I tend to keep people at arm’s length. In my line of work, I deal with a lot of dangerous clients, and I couldn’t handle someone I love being hurt because of me.
Bane isn’t people, though.
He’s the VP and one of the Saints’ important business associates.
And unfortunately, I put him on his ass.
And put a gun to his head.
Not good. Not good at all.
I blame Mason for that, of course. My brother should have given Tacoma and the Kings a heads-up that I’m a woman, lord knows he never lets me forget it.
You need to find a new line of work, Cali. It’s too dangerous, Foxy. You’re a woman in a man’s world, little sister. Blah, blah, blah.
It’s not like I don’t know I have a vagina.
Not that what’s between my legs should matter.
I can take care of my damn self.
Hence, me being out here in the blinding sun, looking for Tacoma’s brother so I can make peace.
Lifting my hand to shield my eyes, I look down one side of the street for the pissy man. I see a woman and her kid walking into the bakery on the other side of the road, and a man in board shorts and an awful Hawaiian button-up is coming out of Paradise Pawn.
Sighing, I drop my hand. Where did the big jerk go?
My eyes drift to the parking lot. His bike is still parked beside mine. How did I miss him peeling off somewhere?
Heat floods my cheeks as my fingers unconsciously rise to touch my lips where Tacoma kissed me.
Oh yeah.
That’s how I missed it.
Damn, that man can kiss. He owned my mouth like his life depended on it, like he’d been stranded out in the desert for a hundred days and he’d finally made it to water.
I’m pretty sure my toes curled when his lips touched mine.
I thought that stuff only happened in the romance books I keep hidden in my RV.
I’ve never felt anything like it, not with Zane, not with anyone.
“Fuck you!”
My head snaps around at the sound of raised voices coming from the side of the building.
What the heck?
Then I hear the unmistakable sound of a fist hitting flesh—that sickening thud that anyone who’s grown up in MC life knows all too well.
My heart is racing as I dash around the side of the building, my hand instinctively going for the gun at my thigh. I come to a sudden stop when I turn the corner.
What. The. Absolute. Fuck?
Two men have Bane’s arms locked behind his back, while a third—a mountain of a man—delivers a savage punch to his face. Bane’s head snaps to the side, sending a spray of blood flying with the force.
The men holding Bane are wearing Sinners cuts. The one on the left has a shaved head decorated with tattoos. With every blow to his captive, his face lights up. He’s enjoying this—a lot.
The other guy is taller with shaggy, dirty-blonde hair and a thick scar on the side of his face. He seems indifferent to the beating his buddy is dishing out.
But it’s the third man who makes my blood run cold.
He’s massive. Hands down the biggest guy I’ve ever seen in my life. He’s gotta’ be every bit of six feet five and built like a linebacker.
I flinch involuntarily as another punch lands. I’ve taken plenty of hits in my time, and it never feels good.
The big guy steps back, panting slightly from the exertion, and reaches behind his back. My eyes drop to the black pistol grip sticking out of the waistband of his jeans.
Shit.
He pulls it free and aims it at Bane’s head.
Damn it.
I promised my brother I wouldn’t shoot anyone, but I can’t exactly let this big fucker execute the Kings’ VP, now can I?
“You’re going to hell where you fucking belong,” the big fucker snarls, pressing the barrel against Bane’s forehead.
Shit.
Bane, despite his battered face, narrows his eyes to slits and spits blood on the giant’s boots. “Fuck you, Skid.”
Double shit.
I’m pulling my guns from their holsters before I can think twice about it, aiming one at the men holding Bane and the other at the giant fixing to end Tacoma’s brother’s life.
“Hey!” I shout, my voice surprisingly steady considering the adrenaline pumping through my veins. “Let him go.”
Three heads whip around in my direction, and the two men holding onto Bane’s arms release him immediately. Bane falls to his knees, coughing and spitting blood onto the sand-covered ground.
“Get the fuck out of here, bitch,” Baldy with the tattoos on his head yells, reaching for his weapon.
“Yeah, get the fuck out of here, bitch,” his bearded buddy echoes.
I narrow my eyes, rage building in my chest. “What did you just call me?”
My fingers twitch against the triggers of my guns, just itching to put these assholes down like the fucking dogs they are.
Chief would bitch, of course, but I’d clean up the mess before anyone was the wiser.
No harm, no foul, right?
“You’re making a big fucking mistake, cunt,” Tattoo-Head sneers.
“Yeah! You’re making a big fucking mistake, cunt,” Beardy parrots.
Who the hell are these clowns? Pete and RePete?
My eyes dip to the patch on Beardy’s cut.
Hammer.
I barely keep from rolling my eyes. I bet he came up with that on his own. Probably thought of his microdick when he did.
My gaze then sweeps over Bane’s busted-up face as I reply, “No, sweetie. I’m not. But you are.” I level my gun at Tattoo-Head’s face.
“Skid, shoot that fucking cunt.”
The big man—apparently Skid—growls as he swings his gun away from Bane’s head, pointing it at me.
On instinct, everything my grandfather has taught me over the years kicks in, and I charge his big ass.
Skid’s eyes bulge in surprise, and his jaw hits the ground.
Why do men always act so shocked when a woman fights back?
Who freaking knows, but I’ma’ use it to my advantage.
Running full speed at him, I drop to my knees and slide across the sand-covered path as if I’m stealing home plate.
Before he can react, I squeeze the trigger, and a bullet tears through his gut. The sound echoes between the buildings.
Hammer staggers backwards, his free hand clutching his stomach as blood seeps between his fingers. He looks down at the wound in disbelief, then back at me with a mix of shock and fury.
Yeah, dumbass. That really happened.
Turning my head, I lock eyes with Pete and RePete.
“Crazy fucking bitch!” Hammer shouts as he trips over his own feet, hauling ass out of the narrow walkway.
Skid stumbles on his feet, his face still a mask of disbelief.
“Let’s go!” Baldy shouts to his wounded brother.
“This ain’t over,” Skid shouts over his shoulder as he takes off.
“No. It never is,” I reply softly.
Bane groans from behind me, and I scramble over.
“Who the hell are you?” He asks, watching me cautiously as he labors to breathe.
I drop to a knee beside him. “The woman who just saved your ass. What’d you do to piss them off anyway?”
“They’re Sinners.”
I pop a brow. “Ain’t we all?”
He chuckles then groans, grabbing at his ribs. “No. I mean, they’re part of the Depraved Sinners. We’ve had beef with them for years.”
Ahhh. A rival club. Ain’t that always the case? “Well, I’m pretty sure that big fucker broke your ribs.”
“Yeah. I think you’re right.” He presses on the left side of his chest and hisses.
Rustling from behind me pulls my attention from Bane’s injuries. Spinning around on my knees, I lift my gun, ready to shoot another Sinner if I have to.
“Whoa! It’s just me.” Tacoma stands there with his hands raised, his eyebrows arched high. Then his gaze shifts to his brother, and his eyes narrow before shooting back at me with accusation.
Bane starts chuckling again. And again, he groans at the pain it causes. “Easy, brother. It wasn’t her this time.”
Tacoma gives me a sheepish look. “Sorry.”
“No. I get it. I did drop him earlier,” I acknowledge with a shrug.
“Would you stop saying that?” Bane grumbles, wincing as he tries to stand and fails, falling back onto his ass.
I roll my eyes. Whatever.
It’s the damn truth.
I climb to my feet as Tacoma walks over and we both reach out a hand to Bane. I expect him to swat my hand away and spout some macho bullshit about how he’s fine and can do it himself, but the big guy surprises me. He accepts both of our hands and lets us haul him off the ground.
I’m going to go out on a limb here and say he must be
hurting a lot more than he’s letting on. I don’t have to know Bane to know he’s the kind of man who doesn’t like to show weakness.
He’s a biker. They’re all the same.
I’m a man. I’m strong. I can take on the world alone. Blah, blah, blah.
“She saved my ass.” Bane grins at me.
I can feel my eyes threatening to pop out of my head.
He must have taken a hard hit to the head. There’s no way he admitted out loud that I saved his bacon. I mean, that doesn’t happen.
“I shit you not, Jude. She was like a goddamn ninja.” Bane leans heavily against his brother’s side.
Jude?
I turn my attention to Tacoma and really take him in now that I know his name.
His long legs and sturdy thighs make a striking impression.
His shoulders are broad, and his arms are strong and muscular.
His dark, thick hair is just shy of being shaggy, adding to his rugged charm.
But what truly captivates me are his eyes—deep and luminous, a mesmerizing shade of blue that resembles cobalt. He’s genuinely handsome.
Jude.
I like it. It suits him somehow—strong and a little old-fashioned.
“Thought I saw something and poked my head around the building,” Bane continues, grimacing as he touches his split lip. “Three Sinners were back here. It’s like they were waiting—like they knew we’d be here.” He shakes his head, like he’s trying to make sense of it all. “They got the drop on me.”
Tacoma pulls the gun holster under his arm and scans the mouth of the walkway.
“She pulled her gun, and for a second there, I thought Hammer was going to 86 her ass.” Bane frowns before his expression morphs into a smile. “Then she charged his ass and skidded across the ground like she’s Laura Croft or something. She was all ‘Yippee Ki Yay, Motherfucker.’”
I snort. He’s being ridiculous now.
Tacoma frowns. “You always put yourself in danger like that?”
My hackles go up instantly. Here we go with the misogynist bullshit. I get this shit enough at home. I’m not about to put up with it from strangers.
Hell-to-the-no!
Narrowing my eyes, I hiss, “Just because I have a pussy doesn’t mean I am one! I grew up in this life, too, ya know. I know firsthand it’s kill or be killed. I’m not about to sit around and wait for the men to show up when I can save my damn self.”
Tacoma’s eyes narrow. “That attitude’s going to get your ass paddled.”
“I’d like to see you try!” I fire back, eyes narrowing to slits. The au-fucking-dacity of this jerk. I saved his brother’s ass. He could at least say thanks.
Bane’s eyes dart back and forth. “She wasn’t the one in danger, brother. She shot Hammer and scared the other two off.”
“She is standing right here,” I interject, folding my arms across my tits. “Stop talking about me like I’m not here.”
“I owe you, Doll,” Bane says, clutching his ribs with one hand and extending the other to me.
I eye his hand for a beat before finally taking it.
His grip is surprisingly gentle. “No. You don’t. We’re even now.”
The corner of Bane’s mouth curls up, despite his busted lip. “Deal.”
My stomach chooses that moment to growl loudly, reminding me why we came here in the first place. I really am hungry.
Both men grin, but the amusement is short-lived.
“We need to get out of here.” Tacoma’s eyes dart toward the street. “Sinners travel in packs. They’ve probably called for backup by now.”
“Can you ride?” Tacoma asks his brother, eyeing his hand pressed to his ribs.
Bane nods, though his pained expression suggests otherwise. “Yeah. I’ll survive.”
I exchange a skeptical look with Tacoma, but we don’t argue. Instead, we both wrap an arm around Bane’s waist and help him walk toward the front of the building, where our bikes are parked.
“So much for not getting into trouble,” I sigh under my breath as we hobble along. “Chief is going to kill me.”
“Nah. He’ll understand,” Tacoma suggests.
I seriously doubt it.
But, hey, I did bury the hatchet with Bane.
Even if I did have to shoot someone to do it.