2. DIESEL
DIESEL
Ihad left the clubhouse with glitter on my neck, a plastic crown rolling around the floor of my truck, and six brothers laughing at me.
Twenty minutes later, I was doing ninety down a wet backroad with a runaway bride wearing my cut and a Black Thorns vehicle chasing my ass.
As evenings went, mine had improved considerably.
“Name,” I said.
The bride had one hand braced against the dashboard and the other pressed to the door. White lace covered most of the cab, the torn skirt spilling across the seat and exposing one bare thigh every time the truck hit a bump.
My eyes caught on it.
I dragged them back to the road.
“What?”
“I gotta call you somethin’ besides bride.”
“Why do you have to call me anything?”
“Because screaming hey, woman in the giant dress ain’t gonna help if bullets start flyin’.”
Her head snapped toward me. “Bullets?”
The passenger-side mirror exploded.
She screamed and ducked as glass sprayed across the window. I hooked my hand around the back of her neck and pulled her down across the bench seat, covering her head with my arm while keeping the truck steady with the other.
“Those bullets,” I said, smirking.
“This is not funny.”
“Nothin’ funny about gettin’ shot at, sweetheart.”
“You’re smiling.”
“Bad habit.”
It was more than that. The brothers thought I joked because nothing got beneath my skin. Women thought I did it because I was charming. Men I fought thought I did it because I was crazy.
The truth was simpler.
If I was laughing, no one looked close enough to see anything else.
I hit the call button on the dash.
Hawk answered immediately. “What?”
“Need the south gate opened.”
“You’re supposed to be towing a car.”
“Job changed.”
The Black SUV pulled closer. A man leaned out of the passenger window, one hand gripping the roof and the other holding a gun.
I jerked the wheel as he fired. The shot struck somewhere along the truck bed with a metallic crack.
“What the fuck was that?” Hawk demanded.
“Black Thorns.”
A beat of silence.
Then his voice changed. “Location.”
“Old mill road, headin’ south. Got one SUV behind me, at least two armed men inside.”
“And the tow?”
“Left it.”
“You left a customer’s car?”
“Had somethin’ prettier climb into the truck.”
The bride glared at me from beneath my arm.
“Diesel,” Hawk warned.
“She heard Preston Hale offer Rafe Maddox access to the Bradford south freight yard. Weapons, crates, the whole damn deal.” I looked in the mirror. “And now the Thorns want her back bad enough to shoot through my truck.”
“I’m sending Gunner and Knox. Four minutes.”
“I’ll be there in three.”
“You’re in a tow truck.”
“Yeah, but I’m drivin’ it.”
I ended the call and pushed the engine harder.
The woman beneath my arm twisted enough to look at me. Her veil had torn free on one side and wrapped itself around my wrist, while the makeup covering her bruise had smeared completely. Finger-shaped marks darkened the side of her face.
I wanted Preston Hale’s hand.
Detached from the rest of him.
“You can sit up,” I told her.
She pushed herself upright, gathering the front of my cut closed over her dress. The sight of her wearing it hit me somewhere low and hard.
It was just leather. A patch. Something I had worn so long it felt like another layer of skin.
It had never looked like that on anyone else.
“You left his car?” she asked.
“Seemed rude to tow it after stealin’ his bride.”
“I am not his bride.”
“No?” My gaze dropped deliberately to the white dress.
“I didn’t say the vows.”
“Then what do I call you?”
She hesitated, as though even her name was something men had used against her.
“Eloise.”
“Eloise what?”
“Bradford.”
That explained the dress, the venue, and the vintage Aston Martin worth more than most houses in town.
The Bradfords owned storage yards, freight depots, and half the commercial property near the county line.
Old money, from what I knew. The kind that made people believe they could buy their way around consequences.
“Hell of a wedding present your family’s giving Rafe.”
“I don’t think they know.”
“Your daddy’s message didn’t sound real surprised.”
Pain moved across her face before she turned toward the window.
I should have kept my mouth shut. Eloise had learned her fiancé was a violent bastard less than half an hour ago. Telling her that her father might have sold her alongside the property was not helping.
Being gentle had never been my best quality.
“That don’t mean he knew everything,” I added.
“You don’t have to lie to make me feel better.”
“I rarely lie, princess. Takes too much effort keepin’ the story straight.”
“And calling me princess?”
“Not a lie. You had a castle, a fancy car, and half the county waiting to watch you marry an asshole.”
“I ran away.”
“Smartest thing you’ve done all day.”
Her mouth twitched.
There she was.
Buried beneath the fear, the lace, and the expensive makeup was a woman with enough fire to jump into a stranger’s truck rather than let the men in her life decide what happened next.
I liked that woman already.
Probably too much.
Headlights appeared ahead. Two bikes came around the curve, riding side by side, black cuts snapping in the wind.
Eloise stiffened. “More of them.”
“They’re ours.”
“How can you tell?”
“Because if they weren’t, I’d be runnin’ them off the road.”
Gunner and Knox split as they passed us, turning their bikes in tight arcs before coming up behind the SUV. The men inside knew exactly what those Iron Flames patches meant. The driver hit the brakes, swerved across both lanes, and disappeared down a narrow side road.
Knox started after them.
Gunner stayed with us.
I eased off the gas for the first time since leaving the venue.
Beside me, Eloise’s shoulders dropped.
“Is it over?”
“For now.”
“That isn’t comforting.”
“Wasn’t meant to be.”
The Iron Flames compound appeared beyond the trees. High fencing surrounded the garage, towing yard, clubhouse, and the smaller buildings scattered across our land. The south gate rolled open before we reached it. Gunner followed us inside, and it slammed shut behind his bike.
Eloise stared through the windshield at the rows of motorcycles, the men moving through the yard, and the flaming skull painted across the clubhouse wall.
“You brought me to a motorcycle club.”
“Told you I was gonna.”
“I thought you meant a garage.”
“It’s got a garage.”
“With armed guards.”
“Tools get stolen.”
She looked at me.
I grinned. “That one was a lie.”
I parked beside the clubhouse and climbed out. Eloise pushed open her door before I could reach it, gathering her dress as she tried to step down.
Then I saw the blood.
Both her bare feet were cut from the gravel, thin red lines running across her arches and staining the ragged edge of her dress.
I put one arm behind her back and the other beneath her knees.
Her eyes widened. “What are you doing?”
“Preventin’ you from bleedin’ across the lot.”
“Put me down.”
“No.”
“I don’t know you.”
“Know enough to climb into my truck.”
“That was an emergency.”
“So’s this. Mara sees blood on her clean floor, she’ll skin us both.”
Eloise looped her arms around my neck because she did not have much choice, and I lifted her out of the truck.
She weighed almost nothing beneath all that dress. The warmth of her body pressed against my chest while the scent of rain, perfume, and something softer wrapped around me. Her face was close enough that I could see the tiny gold flecks in her brown eyes.
Her gaze dropped to my mouth.
Mine did the same.
The air shifted.
For one dangerous second, neither of us moved.
Then the clubhouse door opened.
“I thought you were towing a car,” Reaper said.
I looked over. Hawk, Chains, Gunner, Knox, and Axel were gathered behind him. Every one of them stared at the woman in my arms.
“The car didn’t have legs like these.”
Eloise’s grip tightened around my neck. “You can put me down now.”
“Pretty sure I can’t.”
“Diesel,” Hawk said.
The humor left me.
“She’s hurt.”
“We can see that.”
“Not from me.”
Reaper’s expression hardened. “Who?”
“Preston Hale.”
Something dark passed through the room.
The brothers stepped aside as I carried Eloise in. She went rigid when she saw the maps, weapons, and photograph spread across the back table.
I set her on the edge of the bar.
Hawk approached slowly, keeping enough distance that she did not feel crowded. “Eloise Bradford?”
She glanced at me before nodding.
“I’m Hawk. Nobody here is going to hurt you, but we need to know exactly what you heard.”
Mara appeared from the hallway carrying a blanket and a medical kit. She wrapped the blanket around Eloise’s shoulders before kneeling to examine her feet.
Eloise answered Hawk’s questions. Her voice shook at first, but it grew steadier as she explained the settlement documents, the south freight yard, the crates, and Rafe’s name.
I stood beside her the entire time.
When she finished, Chains looked at Hawk.
“The storage properties,” he said.
Hawk pulled the photograph from the table and placed it beside Eloise.
“This was taken two counties over three days ago. We know the man on the left is Rafe Maddox. Do you recognize the other one?”
Eloise looked down.
Every trace of color left her face.
Her fingers found mine and closed around them.
“That’s my father.”
The room went silent.
I looked at the photograph, then at the bruises Preston had left on her skin.
Eloise had not simply run from a wedding.
She had run from every person who was supposed to protect her.
And somehow, she had ended up with me.