Skirt (Ruthless Kings MC #5) - K.L. Savage Page 0,16
from old black and white to new age color. I love pictures, and I want nothing more than to stop and look at them, but there’s no time. Aidan needs me.
I need him.
A bubble of tangled emotion tightens my chest the more distance I close between me and the door. I reach my hand out, tighten my palm around the metal knob, and swing it open. I don’t bother closing it because freedom is an inch away.
There’s small step between me and the ground, so I jump, ignoring the pain all over my bruised body.
There’s only one thing left to do.
Run.
I limp faster and faster, and I ignore the pain in my thigh completely, the deep ache in the core of my bone, but it’s nothing compared to the pain of losing my son if I don’t get to him.
The wind whips through my hair and the rumble in the sky has me tilting my head back to look up. The clouds are rolling with shades of gray and black. It’s about to pour.
Bright side, the desert needs rain.
Downside, I’m about to get soaked which will make my journey colder and longer.
Dirt swirls around my feet from my shoes kicking up dust. Rows of bike fill my vision, and I nearly break my neck looking at them and the building I ran from. They are all different shapes and sizes, miles of shining chrome and long exhaust pipes parked along the front of the porch.
What the hell is this place? There’s nothing to tell me who or what they are, just a skull sign that stares at me with its hollow eyes uprooting the fear I try to keep buried inside. My eyes burn with too much familiarity from the dark voids staring at me.
My eyes are so focused on the bikes and the skull, I don’t keep an eye out on what is in front of me, and I slam against something hard that has my head ringing and my body falling to the ground. I groan, holding my arms across my stomach as my ribcage screams at me for pushing myself too hard.
Fuck, that hurt.
I gag, the amount of anguish is unbearable, and I roll over to my hands and knees, spewing up yellow bile, the acid burning my throat and leaving a bitter taste in my mouth, which only makes me gag more.
Wiping my mouth, a black blur catches my attention out of the corner of my eye, and what I see sucks all the hope out of me, the air evaporating from my lungs. “No.” I follow the gate as far as the eye can see. I push myself up until I’m standing on my unstable, trembling legs. The gate looks like it goes on for eternity in either direction. “No!” I shout and follow the iron bars in desperate search for a way out.
The further I walk, an unsettled reality falls over me like a veil. I’m in a fortress. There isn’t a way out unless they let me out. I’m getting dizzy with all the circling I’m doing. There are other buildings that look like homes, a garage, and whatever the hell this main building is that has a saloon appearance. Below the skull is a sign that says ‘Unwelcome.’
Fitting.
I don’t feel welcome at all. Mission accomplished.
The door to the main house opens, and a few men file out. All of their outfits are the same. Black jeans, boots, some are wearing chains, but all are wearing these leather vests. What the fuck is this place?
All eyes are on me, and their laughter dies down while a man at the end with shaggy hair and a psychotic look to his face takes a swig of beer. I press my back against the gate to get away from them, the bars digging into my back, reminding me of how trapped I am.
I’m a mouse, and they are definitely the cats.
No, fuck that.
They are lions and they have their predatory eyes set on me. If I run, they will give chase. Cohen, I can handle. His abuse is just from one man, but all of these mean looking bikers? I’ll die quicker here than I will with Cohen. I’ve heard horrible things about bikers. What if they pass me around?
Oh, god. I’m feeling sicker by the second.
“Let me. Get yer arse out of the way, Bullseye.” The crowd of intimidation parts for a man with red hair wearing a green kilt.