Page 4 of Viper's Desire
My knife is gone from my belt. So is my gun.
I take inventory of what’s left on me, which is only my clothes. I guess I’ll have to use my fists to kill the motherfucker who has me.
I turn my head, and the adrenaline pumping through my veins slows.
It’s a woman.
And she’s fucking beautiful. She has auburn hair. She’s wearing a sundress. Her hands are locked on the wheel, her attention fixed on the road.
Pieces of my memory surface. I was delivering a gun shipment. Three Crimson Warriors attacked me. There was a fight. I was stabbed.
That’s where my blade and my gun went. The Warriors stripped me while I was down. Took them like trophies. Fine. I’ve got more at the clubhouse.
Then someone helped me. Stitched up my wound.
The woman next to me helped me, and I’m in her car. I don’t remember getting into her car.
She turns, and a smile spreads across her lips.
“You’re awake.” She checks me and faces the road again. “Good. Stay awake. You lost a lot of blood, and I need to get you somewhere safe. The motorcycle place, right? The old hotel?”
“Yeah. The clubhouse.”
She sighs. “I assumed that’s where you’d want to go. I know it’s out this way somewhere, but I can’t remember where to turn.”
I look out the window, and we’re close. Thank fuck she assumed I was a Hellborn Kings member. It was probably obvious, though, by my leather cut and motorcycle.
Where the fuck is my bike?
I’ll have one of the guys go retrieve it. Right now, I just need to focus on telling Saber what happened.
“Turn there. The dirt road on the right.”
She makes the turn, and the clubhouse comes into view.
Trapper is on prospect duty and hauls the gate open when he sees me in the front seat.
The lot is full. It’s a Friday night, so the bar next to the clubhouse is packed like it is every weekend.
She pulls up to the clubhouse.
“Stop here.”
She stops. Kills the engine. She lets go of the wheel and knots her fingers in her lap. I take in the dark smudges on her forearms. Blood. My blood.
She’s facing me now, but there’s no fear in her. Most people would be scared.
She should be scared.
The porch door bangs. Saber comes down the steps. Trapper must have called him to alert him that something is wrong.
My door is open before my hand finds the latch.
“Viper.” The club Prez says my name, half question and half accusation, one fist closing on my arm to help me stand upright. “You all right?”
“Crimson Warriors. Three of them attacked me on the road. The shipment didn’t make it,” I blurt out.
“Shut your mouth.” His hand goes hard on my arm, his attention cutting past me to the driver’s seat.
