Chapter Seven
Hawkeye tried to ignore the warm trusting body pressed against his back. He didn’t want to look too closely at why he couldn’t put her in the back of the truck with the other women. Other than the feeling that they would rip her to shreds given the chance.
Maybe he needed to look at that more closely.
Why would the women they were rescuing want to hurt her?
He didn’t think anyone the Crows cared about would be sleeping on the hard floor of the pantry but couldn’t figure out why she would be there and not with the other women, serving the Crows.
Hawkeye had no illusions about exactly what the women had done to serve them.
He’d seen some of it firsthand as even the blast Smokey had rigged hadn’t been enough to stop a couple of the men as they had a woman tied down and helpless as they fucked them.
He shook his head, pushing that image away.
If the woman behind him had been treated differently, the women would resent that.
That part wasn’t hard to figure out. What had him puzzled was the woman at his back.
Why had she been there if they weren’t going to put her on the streets like they did all the others?
The wind battered his face as he made his way out of Eagle’s Rest and back toward Craven’s Creek.
The small body pressed against his back, shivering, reminded him they would need to find somewhere to stop, soon.
Somewhere they could get something in the way of shoes and a jacket for her.
But first they had to get out of there. They needed to make it to neutral territory.
The roar of engines behind had him twisting around for a moment, making sure it was his brothers and not a handful of Royal Crows that had gotten away and were on his trail.
Some of the tension in his body relaxed when he spotted Shotgun first, then made out Diesel, then Raven in the lead.
The president had switched out his usual skull cap helmet for a full-face model to keep anyone who spotted them riding by from being able to see who he was right away.
Hawkeye had given his helmet to the girl, but he pulled his gaiter up to just below his eyes.
Between that, his glasses, and that they all wore dark colors—even the t-shirts under their cuts were black—he hoped he was safe.
As the brothers reached them, they pulled around him until he and the woman at his back were in the center of the cluster of bikes.
They’d been on the road a little over half an hour before he signaled that he needed to pull off.
He waited a few minutes until the message had time to pass through the group, then he pulled ahead of the rest of them and off the highway.
He was headed for the huge travel center truck stop he’d been seeing signs about for miles.
He pulled in and up to a pump, as though he wasn’t needing to get things from inside—someone would ask soon.
He climbed off, swinging one leg forward instead of backward like he usually did.
Once he stood, he patted the woman’s shoulder, letting her know without words that she was fine where she was.
“I know you’re not out of gas,” Shotgun said after pulling his bike in behind Hawkeye’s and killing the engine. All the other brothers had gone to pumps as well. They were all in the habit of filling up when they could.
“I’m not, but might as well fill up while we’re here.” He leaned over and showed the woman how to lift the visor so she could look around.
Shotgun scowled. “And why are we here?” His tone said he was tired of the word games and he wanted Hawkeye to tell him what was up.
“My passenger needs a few things.” Hawkeye nodded to where her bare feet rested on the pegs on either side of the bike. “What size shoes you wear, Dove?”
Her face turned pink. “I don’t know.”
Hawkeye scowled, “How do you not know your shoe size?” He watched her. Looking for any sign she was lying. She stared at the ground as she lifted her shoulders and let them fall.
“How do you buy shoes? You have had shoes before?” Shotgun asked, his voice gentle in a way Hawkeye had only seen him be with Taylynn and Andy
“I’ve had shoes.” Her voice was a little stronger, even if she never looked up at either of them.
“How do you get new shoes?” Shotgun asked with a patience Hawkeye wasn’t sure he’d ever seen from the big man.
The woman lifted her head slightly but kept her gaze downcast. “I’ve never had new shoes,”
Shotgun’s brows lifted until, in combination with his shaved head, he resembled a surprised bowling ball. He met Hawkeye’s gaze. Neither one of them knew what was going on, but they didn’t have time to find out now.
Shotgun broke the staring contest.
He reached up and flipped the collar of the woman’s dress out, letting the fabric slide through his fingers as she flinched away.
“Relax, I’m not going to hurt you. I was just looking for a tag so I could check the size.”
“No tags.” Her voice was even softer than before.
“All right, I guess we do this the hard way.” Shotgun pulled a pen from somewhere inside his cut.
“Hold still a second this won’t hurt.” He moved behind her and Hawkeye watched as Shotgun held one arm with straight fingers flat against her back and lined up the tips with one shoulder then used the pen to mark where her other shoulder hit.
Then he did something similar with one of her feet and the flat of his hand.
“I’ll be back in a few ... no promises on how fashionable it will be.”
“I don’t give a shit about fashion, as long as she’s safe & warm,” Hawkeye called at the other man’s back.