KISS ME SAVE ME (Southside Skulls Nomads #4)

Chapter 1

ROWAN

Ididn't even want this fucking job.

But there I was, running through the bar, thinking on my feet, because that was all I’d ever been good at. Thinking fast and moving faster. Twenty-five years on this godforsaken earth had taught me that much.

Ten minutes earlier I'd been behind the bar, pushing bottles across that wet, wooden top, taking crumpled bills from sweaty hands that lingered too long.

The bikers packed in shoulder to shoulder were the most dangerous-looking men I'd ever seen, and I'd seen plenty. All eyes were on me. The new girl.

One look at the poor bastard in the back alley told me everything I needed to know. I'd only gone out there for a breath of fresh air. The bar was stifling, all body heat and stale beer, and I saw him instead, as he fell face down in the dirt.

My phone was out, so I clicked some shots as I slunk into the shadows, but the fucker flashed and the killers looked up at me.

So I ran, knowing if they caught me, I was dead too.

I pushed my way through the bar and hit the front doors at full speed, then forced myself to slow.

The parking lot was a sea of bikes and one SUV.

I ducked behind it, crouching low, and ripped off my red jacket.

It was too visible, and I shoved it under the vehicle without checking the pockets.

Stupid, but my phone was in my jeans, and maybe what I had on it would save me.

Or at least let me vanish on my own terms, and not theirs.

I yanked my hair out of its tight bun and let it fall long down my back. I pulled my glasses off and stuffed them in my back pocket. I prayed it was enough to make me look like someone else. That's all it takes sometimes.

I straightened up and willed myself not to run.

I learned when I was young that running drew attention.

I scanned the lot and saw him. A tall, blond biker with Southside Skulls on his vest. I knew their reputation. Everyone did. They weren't like the guys inside. Different club and territory.

And somehow, my brain decided to register one completely unhelpful thought:

He's fucking hot.

I walked straight up to him before he made it to the door. I grabbed the front of his leather vest with both hands and pulled him toward me.

"Kiss me," I said. "Quick."

He didn't ask why, and he didn't hesitate. His hands found my waist and his mouth found mine and he kissed me like we'd done this a million times before.

The bar door banged open behind us and I could hear the boots on gravel. Someone was scanning the lot.

I was shaking, breathing hard against his lips. But his body blocked me from view, and his grip was steady, and… I felt safe.

Whoever it was retreated back inside and I heard the door slam shut.

He pulled back just enough to look at me, with beautiful, curious blue eyes.

"You wanna tell me what that was about?"

I didn’t, but I had a feeling I wouldn't get a choice.

Spider

It wasn't Skulls territory but after a long-ass ride across four states, my mouth tasted like I'd swallowed a thousand miles of road dust.

I'd been licking my lips for the last ten miles.

Even sharing a room with the Road Devils MC was better than dying of dehydration before getting back to the club.

The Devils occasionally tolerated the Skulls stopping in, provided we kept to ourselves.

Which was exactly what I intended to do. One whiskey. Maybe two. Then gone.

I'd only just stepped off my Harley when she appeared.

Red-haired. Sexy as fuck. Green eyes wide and wild, hands grabbing the front of my vest like she owned it. She pulled me in close and her voice came out shaking but sure.

"Kiss me. Quick."

Hell of a welcome after a day in the saddle. I'd just licked my lips, so at least I had that going for me... right before hers met mine.

Oh my fucking God.

Her lips were full and wet, part of the most beautiful face I'd ever seen between the West Coast and here in Boston.

I didn't think. I just kissed her back. Slipped my tongue in and tasted something sweet underneath all that adrenaline she was running on.

All thoughts of whiskey or beer were replaced by one singular concern: I hope she can't feel the lump forming in the front of my jeans.

Or maybe I wanted her to feel it.

I pressed against her and she didn't pull away. Her fingers tightened on my vest. Her breath came hard against my mouth, and her whole body was trembling, but she leaned in, not back. So I held her tighter. Hands on her waist, thumbs pressing into the curve of her hips.

I heard guys stomping around near us, and the bar door banging. But fuck it… I wasn't about to end this in a hurry. Not for the Devils, or anyone else. Whatever trouble she was in, she'd picked me, and that was enough for now.

They went back inside, and the door slammed shut.

Finally, curiosity got the better of me. I pulled back just enough to look at her. Her green eyes stared up at me, and she looked scared.

"You wanna tell me what that was about?"

She didn't answer right away. Just stood there, chest heaving, fingers still twisted in my leather.

I should've let it go, walked inside, ordered my drink, and forgotten the whole thing.

But I already knew there wasn't a fucking chance of that.

Rowan

I heard an engine start and it wasn’t a bike.

Oh, fuck.

I looked past the mountain of muscle still holding me and watched as the SUV pulled out of the lot and my jacket looked like a beacon under the porch lights.

I broke my grip on his vest, but before I could say a word or make a move, some big old fucker in a Devils vest scooped it up and hobbled toward the front door.

“Fuck, that’s my jacket,” I whispered as I stood frozen, wondering what to do next.

“What?”

“My jacket,” I said, pointing to the old guy who was almost at the entrance steps.

“Hey, bro,” the big guy boomed.

The biker kept walking like he didn’t give a shit.

“Bro!” the Skull yelled.

That didn’t work.

"Deaf bastard.” He shook his head. "I'll go get it."

“No, wait,” I said.

“Wait? Why?”

“There’s something I need to tell you.”

"One problem at a time. Let me get your jacket."

“No!” I said a little too sharp.

He just raised an eyebrow.

“They’ll kill me,” I blurted out.

“Fuck.”

Spider

There are no free kisses in life. There are no free anythings. Everything came with a price, and I’d just sucked face with a woman who said someone would kill her. I didn’t need this shit in my life.

But... yeah, there's always a "but" when a woman is involved, and this one tasted better than a $400 bottle of George T. Stagg.

She was panic-checking her jean pockets.

She looked like a ghost when her gaze came back to mine and she opened her mouth and closed it again without saying a word.

“I can get your jacket,” I said. “No problem. In and out, and you can wait for me out here.”

“No,” she said. “I need to disappear.”

“Where?”

“Anywhere.” The look in her eyes said it all.

“That’s right where I was headed.” I took her hand and led her to my bike, then fished into the saddlebag and pulled out my wife’s helmet.

Rowan

The helmet fit.

I wondered whose it was, and whether I'd just dragged more than one person into my problems.

“Maybe I shouldn’t…” I didn’t know what to say. I really wanted him to get me the hell out of there but it was obvious he had a woman in his life. Maybe a wife.

He didn’t say a word, just waited.

"Go without me," I said, pulling the helmet back off.

“It fits perfect,” he said.

“Yeah, but I don’t.”

“Your lips seemed to fit well enough,” he said, with a chuckle.

“Yeah, I’m sorry about that.”

“Don’t be.” He was smiling. “In fact you can have a second round whenever you feel like it.”

As I held out the helmet, I said, “Your wife or girlfriend might not like that.”

He looked down at the helmet, and I saw the realization cross his face.

“My ex wouldn’t give a fuck who was wearing that helmet. In fact, the only thing she might give a fuck about is the way you look.”

I frowned.

“You’re as hot as fuck, but you know that already, right?”

I shook my head slowly and pulled the helmet back on.

He didn’t look like a liar, and I’d known more than a few.

But liars never looked like liars.

And this guy, whether he was telling the truth or not, was just a ride out of trouble.

Spider

I’d forgotten all about my thirst and tired ass once she was seated behind me with her body pressed against my back and her arms wrapped around my waist.

And when I gunned the bike down the road, headed for the club, I’d even forgotten about the words that should've had me riding home alone.

I hadn’t gone looking for trouble. I never did because it always seemed to find me. And it always came in the form of a pretty face… not unlike the one pressed against my back.

I was a sucker for helping women in distress. Animals too, for that matter. Always had been and probably always would, if I lived to find out.

I didn't even know her name, so I spent the ride wondering what it might be.

She didn’t know mine either, and I was sure she’d want to know the story behind it. Everyone always did.

Rowan

My mind was on fire. My pockets were empty, so that meant they had my ID by now and it was only a matter of time before that would lead them to me.

Would the photos on my phone save me, or would they just take my life along with them?

Blond guy was too nice to get mixed up in this. This was how innocent people died. Taking photos of dead people and giving rides to people who took photos of dead people.

I had to spill everything as soon as we got to where we were going.

Which was? Fucked if I knew. He could be worse than the ones back there.

He could be a serial killer.

A serial killer with lips like top-shelf bourbon. Smooth, burning hot, and addictive.

The distraction was welcome.

I took a deep breath and forced myself to focus on the moment.

The midnight ride on a dark highway. Fast, thrilling, and completely reckless.

I needed that.

I needed him.

I felt a little safer as we rumbled through the gates of Southside Skulls and Blond-guy shut off his engine.

“What’s up, Spider?” said a biker with dreads and 'Gunner' on his vest.

Spider. So that was his name. He didn’t look like a spider. Maybe he was full of venom. I felt a little less safe than I did a few seconds ago.

Spider held out his hand and helped me off the bike, and I stood there with the helmet firmly in place.

He swung his leg over the seat and said, “Welcome to the Skulls.”

I didn’t know whether to hold my hand out to Gunner or thank Spider for the ride.

Anxiety had stolen my tongue.

Spider gestured toward me and said to Gunner, "This is..."

“Rowan,” I added as I held my hand out to shake Gunner’s.

He gripped my forearm and pulled me in for a one-armed hug.

Were they always this friendly?

He gave Spider a wink and a nod before walking off.

When I turned my gaze back to Spider, he was shaking his head and smiling.

“Come with me,” Spider said.

I followed him to the clubhouse and right before we got there, another blond-haired biker came from inside and stood in the doorway.

He must have been six-foot-four and had an air of authority that was unmistakable.

“Spider,” he said as he looked at me.

He was so fucking hot. I’d only seen guys like the Devils for the better part of my adult life. The three Skulls I’d seen since arriving were a whole new ballgame.

“Boss, this is Rowan.”

His vest read Dax, and below that, President.

So this was the big boss man who was often talked about back at the bar.

“Pleased to meet you, sir.”

He smiled. “Dax.”

Without thinking, I repeated his name, and the smile on his face... oh my.

“Rowan needs a place for the night,” Spider said.

“Not your room?” Dax asked.

Spider looked at me.

“Your room is fine,” I said, and as I looked between their faces, they both remained expressionless.

I guessed that was what the boss did. If you could read him, he wouldn't be the one in charge.

I hoped Spider didn’t read anything into my choice to stay in his room.

Truth be told, it was because I didn’t want to be alone and he had already made me feel safe. Well, safer than I should have felt.

The fact that he was super hot had nothing to do with my decision.

Nothing at all.