Outlaw (Evil Dead MC 1)

The girl stared up at the man she’d just been given to, getting a closer look at him. She noticed how his blond hair was shot through with highlights, bleached by the sun she imagined. She took the opportunity to study his face while he looked down at what he was doing. He had golden blond facial hair that covered his jaw line and mouth. His face was sunburned, and he had some of the longest lashes she’d ever seen. When he was done with the task he looked up, and she was caught by the startling blue brilliance of his eyes. She stared, mesmerized like a deer caught in the headlights.

He spoke. “You okay, darlin’?”

She understood she’d just been given as payment for a gambling debt. She’d heard what had taken place, knew he didn’t want to take her, had to be talked into it, actually. And what was he going to use her for? There was only one reason he’d want her. She knew that. How many others would she be traded to? They all made her sick, and she let him know it the only way she could think of.

She spit in his face.

His eyes flashed for a moment as his head jerked back slightly. She realized her mistake immediately. Oh, God. Why had she done that?

He reached up and wiped his face with his sleeve, his eyes never leaving hers. “Goddamn. I sure as hell didn’t expect that.” He grinned. “You got spirit; I’ll give you that.”

She glared at him, waiting for the retaliation she was sure was coming. Maybe he’d beat her to death, and this nightmare would finally be over.

“You’re either really brave or really stupid,” he said in a deadly whisper. “Don’t do that again.”

Suddenly, it was as if something inside her had snapped. She swung her fists at him like she was swinging a baseball bat and clocked him on the left side of his face, the metal cuffs connecting with his jaw. She wondered even as she did so what possessed her to incite him like this.

Swearing, he grabbed her upper arms and jerked her up to within inches of his face. “Goddamn it! Quit!” He shook her. “Don’t try to fight me. There’s nothing you can do.”

She trembled at the fury she saw in his eyes. And suddenly he was pulling her to her feet. As he did, she caught a glimpse of a gun in a shoulder holster under his black leather vest. She remembered that Chuck had carried one like it.

She was breathing fast. He glanced down at her heaving chest. “You’re a little wildcat, aren’t you?”

It was the distraction she was looking for. She pretended to faint and fell against him. As she did, she made a grab for him and managed to get her hands on the butt of the handgun, pulling it free.

She could feel his body stiffen as his hands fell away from her and he moved backward. She watched his eyes narrow when he found himself looking down the barrel of his own gun.

He was careful not to move, seeing the resolve in her eyes. He studied her. Finally, he asked, “You gonna pull the trigger, darlin’?”

“I’m thinking about it.” She looked for any signs of fear in his eyes, but saw none. They measured her carefully, almost contemplatively.

“Well, while you’re thinking about it, you may want to think about something else, too. Like how you’re gonna get out of here.”

“We can’t be too far from a town or—”

“You’re in the Dead Souls clubhouse, sweetheart,” he broke in.

He smiled suddenly, almost wickedly, showing a flash of white teeth. The grooves deepened on either side of his mouth.

“Now I ain’t bulletproof, darlin’, so maybe you kill me, but they’ll hear the shot.” He nodded toward the closed door. “Have you thought about what’ll happen then? What they’ll do to you?”

She glanced toward the door uncertainly. “Maybe that’s a chance I’ll have to take. Are you prepared to take the chance that I’ll shoot you?” She raised the gun higher, aiming it at his head.

He smiled, looking her in the eye and replied, “Baby, I’ve been takin’ chances all of my life.”

She held the gun on him, her hands trembling. She chewed on her bottom lip trying to figure a way out.

He raised his arms wide as if inviting her to take the shot. “Make up your mind, baby doll.”

She felt like crying with frustration. Why wasn’t he afraid? Was he so sure she wouldn’t pull the trigger? And was he right about her not being able to get out of here alive? She knew he told the truth. They would hear the shot. And they would come running.

That realization must have dawned across her face as her resolve faltered. And by the look in his eyes, he’d seen it too. She lowered the gun in defeat. He reached up patiently and gently took it out of her hands. She watched as he replaced the gun in his shoulder holster.

“How did you know I wouldn’t pull the trigger?” she asked in a whisper.

He raised his eyebrows and shook his head. “I didn’t.”

They studied each other.

“But I also knew the safety was on,” he added, a smile pulling at the corner of his mouth.

Her shoulders slumped, and she looked at the floor. She waited for the blow she knew was coming. By now Chuck would have taken his fist to her. When nothing happened, she slid a quick glance up and finally whispered, “You don’t seem too mad about it.”

“It’s not the first time I’ve ended up on the wrong end of a gun.” He ducked his head to look in her eyes, and he smiled at her. “Just usually not my own.”

She looked up at him from under a lock of hair that fell across her face.

“Darlin’, I’m not gonna hurt you.”

***