I watch as she sinks even further into herself and make the decision to speed up to get in front of her, blocking her path. There’s only one reason someone is out here, and it usually isn’t club involved. I park my bike ten feet in front of her and turn the engine off. It takes me no time at all to see she’s worse for the wear, with blood seeping from her head, a busted jaw, not to mention the way she’s supporting that arm of hers with the other. The girl stops in her tracks, jarring herself backwards, and I can tell by the tightening of her jaw she’s hurtin’. She doesn’t say dick though, not even as I stand up, light a cigarette, and take deep inhale before figuring out the amount of trouble she’s in.
“What kind of trouble you in?” I bet she’s a damn knockout. All that hair, a bangin’ body that I’m gettin’ more than an eyeful of because some dickhead manhandled the fuck out of her.
“Probably more than you want to take on.” Deep emerald-green eyes stare back at me. Not even the busted blood vessels surrounding them can change the way they shine.
“Eh, that’s for me to figure out, but the way you’re bleeding I’m thinkin’ you need a doc. You able to ride and see what we can do to sort you out?” Figures that the guys are out doing a run today, meaning the clubhouse is covered at bare bones. That means Doc, Cannon, and maybe Ruger are there, but that also means the van is gone because the brothers are on this particular run.
“I don’t want to bring trouble to your doorstep, mister. Well, I don’t even know your name.” She tilts her head in thought.
“Shovel, babe. You?” I don’t hold my hand out for her to shake. She does one better, giving me all the answer I need as she walks towards me.
“Persephone. I won’t take up much of your time. Not that I know what exactly I’ll be doing next,” she murmurs.
“Come on, Persephone.” I throw the half-smoked cigarette to the asphalt and smash it out with the toe of my boot. Fuck, as she gets closer, even in pain the way she walks is sexy as hell. I have a feelin’ this girl is about to bring me a whole lot of trouble in more ways than one.
“I don’t know how to get on or if I won’t fall over while doing so.” I can see it could be a problem, also can’t see a way around it.
“You take your time. Use your good hand on my shoulder. Unless you’re okay with me pickin’ you up,” I offer.
“I think that’ll make it worse. I’ll do my best.” Persephone’s tone and body language are a shit ton more defeated now.
“All I can ask.” I spin around, lift my leg over the bike, holding it steady, then my eyes move to her body, watching as she lets go of her arm, balances herself, teeters a bit, and then finally settles in behind me.
“You good, babe?” I ask over my shoulder. Persephone doesn’t say a word, but I can see the way she’s gritting her jaw that the pain is getting worse. She nods her head. That’s when I take her good arm, wrap it around my waist, and start the bike. It’s time to see about Doc fixin’ her up. Then I’m going to figure out what the fuck has her out like this in the middle of Ely, Texas.
Two
Persephone
“Seen grown men cry over shit like this. Whoever did it put her through the fuckin’ wringer, that’s for sure,” I hear an older gentlemen say. It isn’t Shovel, his voice is deep and husky. Even with the pain consuming my body, his timbre still had my body on high alert.
“Didn’t even shed a fuckin’ tear as she got on my bike. I’m not too keen on not knowing who dropped her off. Ruger, get Cannon on it, see if he can’t find anything on the cameras.” That voice is Shovel’s. And what kind of name is that, anyway?
“You got any clue on who she is?” Some stranger asks, this one not like the first gentleman.
“Not a fuckin’ one, and you see what she’s wearing. Kinda hard to conceal anything while she’s wearing a torn-up dress,” Shovel announces.
“I’ll see if there’s a missing person’s report, but you know as well as I do, someone goes to the length to drop her off in our territory, they don’t want her found,” another voice states.
“No one will be looking for me.” My words are slurred, but I’m waking up and know for a fact I’m going to have to figure things out. For starters, it’s two weeks until my birthday, an unfortunate deadline that is looming over my head now.