Chapter 2 Pans
Pans
Abullet hits the tarmac by my feet, and I gun the accelerator. My bike swerves around the carnage as another shot’s fired.
I lean forward, shielding the woman's body as we speed down the highway. She moans softly and her body slumps, unconscious. I tighten my thighs around hers and tense my arms, holding her in place.
The shouts behind us become more distant as we leave the scene behind, but I don’t let myself relax yet.
I don't know what state the other bikes are in, but if anyone from The Reapers follows us, I know exactly what they'll do. Whoever this woman is, she witnessed something she shouldn't have. The quicker I can get her to safety, the better.
I hazard a glance behind us, but there are no telltale headlights following. I take the next off ramp just in case, knowing I can lose them in the winding clifftop roads that surround this area.
I know every inch of these roads and every tilt my bike needs to make, but I take the corners slower than usual with my precious cargo leaning on me the whole time.
When I saw this beauty sprawled in the road, her foot twisted and a blood spot on her cheek, I knew instantly I’d do whatever it takes to protect her.
I saw the moment she realized what she was caught in the middle of. I saw the realization on her face and then the terror.
She's a civilian caught between two gangs. It's been a long time since I left the military, but I still have an urge to protect civilians, especially pretty, curvy ones.
As we climb further into the hills, we leave the freeway far behind, and I’m confident now that no one is following us.
I left four of my brothers at the wreck, but they were all on their feet and in one piece. The Pres would want me to protect a woman. The other guys can deal with The Reapers.
Twenty minutes later, I've got a dead arm as we pull onto the gravel road that leads to the cottage. Dense trees surround this private road, and the nearest neighbors are miles away.
It’s the club cottage, not my own, and the location is a well-guarded secret. There’s no way The Reapers will find her here.
We pull up to the cottage, and I kill the engine. The noise of the woods closes in, insects chirping in the night, the rustling of leaves from the wind, and the distant sound of waves crashing against the cliffs.
It's peaceful up here. My escape, and also where I do my best work for the club.
The woman groans softly as I lift her off the bike. Blood trickles down her leg, but she’s still breathing. She’s also still unconscious, and I hoist her over my shoulder so I can unlock the door and get us inside.
I carry her straight down to the basement. If anyone did follow me here, it's best to keep her where she won't be seen.
There’s a thin mattress on a bench, and this is where I lay her down. She doesn't stir, and I take a moment to sit back and look at her properly.
My breath catches in my throat.
The brief glimpse I got of her in the headlights showed she was a beauty, but down here in the full light, I can see how stunning she is.
The woman’s hair hangs in a thick golden rope which I pull over her shoulder. Tendrils have escaped the plait, falling around her temples and framing her plump, pale lips and impossibly smooth skin.
She’s got to be almost twenty years younger than me, which makes the stirring in my pants slightly wicked, but I’ve never claimed to be a saint.
She's wearing a thin cotton dress over leggings. And God help me, I can't help staring at her plump breasts pressed up against the flimsy fabric, the outline of a white lacy bra showing through the thin cotton.
My dick stirs, and my blood heats.
A protective energy runs through me so sudden and powerful that I grip the sides of the bench.
One word forms on my lips.
Mine.
This woman is mine, and I won’t let any of my brothers see her.
I saw her, I rescued her, and I’ll keep her here away from prying eyes until she’s healed.
She moans softly, her lips parting in a groin-tingling pout. She looks so innocent, so vulnerable. A trickle of blood runs down her bottom lip, and I'm jolted back to reality.
This is no time to get off on her perfect plump body. This woman needs medical attention. She needs my help.
I know my way around the human body. I wish I could say it was from the military.
But the things I'm tasked to do for my MC brothers have given me a good understanding of how a human is put together.
Exactly how deep you can cut and where to cause maximum pain but not bleed out.
I'm usually pulling people apart, not putting them back together. But the principles are the same.
A quick scan tells me her wounds are surface level, but that won't make them hurt any less.
I pull over my cabinet of instruments. I skip the top drawer, because I won't be needing those today, and pull open the second drawer.
There's a bottle of alcohol and a dirty bandage. I'm usually not worried if my subject gets infected. But tonight is different. I need to clean her wounds and disinfect them.
My eyes cast to her cotton dress. It needs to come off anyway to check her over, and it’s quicker than going upstairs to grab a dishcloth.
My hands cross the top of the dress and I pull. The fabric comes away with a satisfying tear.
And God help me, my dick hardens.
This girl's lying there with blood on her and injuries, but the animal inside of me can’t stop wondering what she’d look like with my dick in her mouth.
"Focus," I mutter to myself.
Drawing my eyes away from her bare flesh, I tear the dress into cotton strips. Then I pour the alcohol on and use it to clean her wounds.
She's got on a pair of leggings, and I pull those down to check her leg injury.
I can't give myself any good reason to yank her panties off, so they stay on for now. My mouth goes dry as I look at the white cotton panties edged with lace. The delicate fabric circling her soft thighs.
I force myself to focus on her leg.
Blood oozes from a gash above her ankle. A shard of glass sticks out of her skin that must have gotten lodged in the accident.
In one quick move, I pull the glass out. She cries out, and her eyelids flicker open. She looks at me with drowsy eyes and then falls back asleep. Pulled back to unconsciousness.
Carefully, I clean the wound and wrap a strip of cotton tight around it to stop the bleeding. The ankle is twisted, already starting to turn an angry purple.
The blood on her face looks like it’s coming from a graze on her cheek, and it looks worse than it is.
I pop upstairs for some hot water and a flannel and I wash her gently, wiping away the grit and stains from the road.
Slowly I work myself up her body, pressing and prodding as I look for internal injuries.
If she's bleeding inside, she'll need more assistance than I can give.
But taking her to a hospital right now would be tantamount to murder.
The Reapers have people everywhere, and they'll be on the lookout for a young woman with injuries from a car accident.
But she's lucky. The car was totaled, and by some miracle this woman is barely injured.
I gently run my fingers across her cheek, resting my hand on her warm skin. Her hot breath caresses my thumb, and her vulnerability in this moment makes my chest tighten. She looks so vulnerable, so precious.
She's alive, this precious human, and in my care. I won’t let her down. But I need to check that she’ll wake up again.
“Precious,” I whisper.
There's nothing, so I say it again a bit louder. "Wake up, precious.”
Her eyes flutter open. They’re as blue as the summer skies of California. Her eyes meet mine. And she gives me half a smile before she passes out again.
I can't leave her like this with nothing on, and I've ripped her dress to shreds. I keep a bag of clothes here. I go upstairs and grab one of my old t shirts.
When I bring it downstairs, she’s still sleeping in just her bra and panties.
Sometimes there’s a darkness inside of me that rises up like a beast. It’s a part of me, part of who I am. And sometimes I let the beast out and I let the darkness erupt inside of me as I do terrible things.
I feel that beast stir inside me now.
I’m overcome with the urge to rip her white cotton panties off to see exactly how her pussy looks underneath.
My trembling hands go to the edge of the panties. I slip my fingers under the lace trim.
The elastic feels tight, a soft pressure on my fingers. I can feel the tip of her course thick hair against my fingertips.
My breathing comes hard and fast. The beast in me wanting to rip her panties off and do dark things.
Then I look at her innocent face, her clear, blemish-free skin. Her full innocent lips. And I remind myself who I am. I rescued this woman, and I’m her protector.
Even if that means protecting her from myself.
Lifting her up with one arm, I slide the t-shirt over her head. It's so big that it covers her straining bra and her cotton panties.
I have kept the beast in check, but for how long?