Mountain Misfits MC: Complete Box Set Page 16

  “Follow me, boys.”

  Things are about to get ugly in the best kind of way. The Mountain Misfits are going hunting.

  Chapter 14

  Sloan:

  “Do you mind telling me what the fuck is actually going on?” Olive squeals, shooting me the dirtiest look I’ve ever seen over her shoulder. Her hands are clenched on the steering wheel, white-knuckled, but she’s not going anywhere.

  “You gotta drive, sweetie,” I say. The bleeding has slowed down significantly on Clutch’s arm, but I’m gripping it tightly, keeping as much pressure on it as possible.

  “That really fucking hurts, woman,” Clutch moans. He’s a very attractive guy, buzz cut with big hulking biceps. He looks more like a military man than a Mountain Misfit. His grimace reveals sparkly white perfectly straight teeth that have to be capped in porcelain veneers. I have a feeling, on most occasions when he smiles, women just drop their pants.

  “I’m sure it does.” I feel bad for the guy, but I don’t really have any options. I need the bleeding under control before I can start working on cleaning the wound, and trying to do it in a moving vehicle isn’t impossible, but it’s definitely not ideal. “You just want me to let you bleed out instead?”

  “Here,” Olive says, digging through her purse. She tosses a joint over her shoulder. “Now shut up, you big baby.”

  “I got fucking shot, Ollie!”

  “You did not. You got hit by some bullet fragments. And she’s right. You need to calm down,” I try to say without laughing.

  I hold the joint to his lips and light it for him, a cloud of smoke filling the air. It’s not my first choice of anesthesia, but we’ll make it work.

  “What were you even doing here, Sloan?” Olive scolds as we peel off onto the highway. “You could’ve been killed!”

  “What about you?” I ask. “Is this a normal thing?”

  Nobody says a word, basically affirming my fears. She’s driving faster and faster, taking loud deep breaths like she’s hyperventilating.

  “Ollie, slow down. Cops!” I scream, catching the cruiser on the side of the road out of the corner of my eye.

  It’s too late. The blue and red flashing lights are creeping up on us.

  “Turn left,” Clutch urges, calm as can be. The narrow winding cut up ahead looks like an old four-wheeler trail.

  “Pull over,” I plead, my heart racing a million beats per minute.

  “I’m sorry, Sloan,” Olive says, crossing over the lanes of traffic and ramping her Jeep into the woods. “That’s not how this works.”

  She puts it in four-wheel drive and begins to crawl up the side of the hill, the bumps in the trail bouncing us around in the backseat. I can still see the lights on the cop car, but they’re parked at the bottom of the mountain on the side of the road.

  “What the hell!?” I shout, my heart beating so loudly I can hear it in my ears.

  “Well let’s see. We have drugs. We have gunshot wounds. We have outstanding warrants,” Olive says.

  “That would be me,” Clutch smiles.

  “What do you think the board of directors at the hospital would say if they found out you were involved in this?”

  I know exactly what they would say. Pack your shit, Sloan. You’re a hot mess.

  “Am I starting to make sense here? You think I’m just some bitchy cock block overstepping her boundaries. I’m just protecting you. You’re too good for this shit!”

  She drills her Jeep right into a huge pothole, sending the two of us flying into the roof of the Jeep.

  “Calm down,” I say to her. “Just get us to wherever we need to be safely please.”

  Clutch winces as I peel back the bloody gauze.

  “Do you know where we’re at?” he asks her.

  “I think so.”

  I can see the mansion one mountain over in a clearing tucked up in the hills from where we are. I have a feeling it isn’t going to be a smooth ride.

  “Was it worth it, Sloan?” she asks. I can see her pursed lips in the rearview mirror. I’ve been friends with her long enough to know that it means she’s the kind of pissed that generally ends with someone holding her earrings so she can unleash her fists of fury.

  “Was what worth what? I don’t even know what you’re talking about.”

  “Screwing Gavin. Was it worth putting everything you have at risk just to fuck some guy?”

  “You’re making wild assumptions, Olive. Can we not do this in front of him?” I plead. “It’s really nobody’s business.”

  “She really doesn’t know how any of this works, does she?” he laughs. “Club business is everybody’s business. And you have been the talk of the town for the past couple days.”

  I cringe.

  “It’s nice to finally meet the lady who turned Gavin into monk for the last few months. It makes sense now,” he says, shooting me a wink.

  “Olive, I appreciate what you’re trying to do here. You’re a good friend. I don’t think you have anything to worry about, though. We’re good,” I assure her. “We’re done.”

  “You have an odd way of showing it. I’m so pissed at you right now.” She slams into another rut in the trail and Clutch’s skull cracks me right in the face.

  “Now you’re just doing it on purpose,” I shout.

  “Seriously, can you guys just kiss and make up?” Clutch asks. “It would be my dying wish.”

  “Shut up, idiot. You’re not dying,” she snaps.

  “Well Gav’s probably going to kill me for bleeding all over his lady.”

  “I’m gonna kill you for bleeding all over my car. You owe me a detail, bud.”

  We make it to the main road that leads up to that familiar mansion, the one I’d visited only once before, the place that started this long and winding journey for me and my best friend.

  “You’re the one who drug me out here to begin with, you know.”

  We both start laughing at her failed attempt to become a stripper. It all began here at the mansion.

  “I still think you’re an idiot, but I also can’t blame you one bit. Anyone in their right mind would happily fuck their life up for a chance to hit that,” she laughs. “It was only a matter of time before you guys finally rubbed your parts together. I was just being a good friend and trying to prolong the inevitable. Guess it wasn’t my place.”

  “There she is,” I giggle. “Welcome back, Olive. Your multiple personalities are absolutely delightful today.”

  “Still fucking mad at you.”

  “Jealous?” I tease.

  “That too,” she laughs.

  “Don’t be,” I say. “It was a onetime thing. He’s all yours.”

  “You know I’m not above your sloppy seconds. I don’t shit where I work, though.”

  “I’m not supposed to be turned on right now, am I?” Clutch asks.

  I take a bottle of water and begin to dump it down the side of his arm to flush the wound to try and loosen some of the debris before it gets too lodged in his skin.

  “Not helping,” he moans.

  “There’s something majorly wrong with you, Clutch,” I say, flashing a smile. Fortunately we’ve reached our destination. Waiting for us in the gravel driveway in front of the giant two-door garage are a few guys I haven’t met before, and one who’s face will be forever branded in my mind.

  Gavin’s father scowls at me as I hop out of the Jeep, with Clutch in tow.

  “Somebody call Patch and tell him they’re here,” he hollers. “Thanks for your help, lady.”

  He waves me off, as if shooing away a fly.

  “I want her to do it,” Clutch says. “She’s a lot prettier than Patch.”

  “Whatever,” the old man growls, spitting a wad of tobacco to the ground, barely missing my feet.

  “You’re fine, Clutch,” I say. “I’m sure Patch will have no problem getting you cleaned up.” I can tell I’m not welcome here. Gavin’s dad is making me really uncomfortable with the way he’s leering a
t me, and I know after our little incident in the hospital, he’s not my biggest fan.

  Olive has already wandered off, and I watch her as she wraps her arms around a big burly guy. He’s got her picked up in the air in a giant bear hug, her feet off the ground. Another guy comes up behind them and tugs her skirt down in the back so her ass isn’t hanging out. I can hear her high-pitched laughter from across the lawn. I realize I recognize them from the hospital. Tank and Red, the enforcers.

  They’re right up her alley. I wonder how she’ll ever choose between the two.

  “Take him to the shack and do what you gotta do,” Gavin’s dad says, obviously aggravated. “If you’re gonna be hanging around here like a dirty birdie you’re gonna need to learn the dress code from your friend over there, though.”

  I know I’m a train wreck in my day-old jeans and t-shirt with the sleeve ripped off. Dried blood streaks my arms and my hair is full of clumps of dirt and gravel. I haven’t even given a second thought to what my makeup looks like, but I’m sure it’s long gone.

  Maybe it’s a good thing. At this rate, by the time Gavin gets back from whatever he’s doing, I’ll be so vile and disgusting he won’t want to touch me with a ten-foot pole.

  Let alone the ten-inch one he’s carrying around with him.

  God, it’s been a crazy twenty-four hours. I’m not even counting the drive-by shooting or the fact that I’m about to perform backwoods surgery on a self-proclaimed felon on the run. The heart of the matter lies at the fact that if it wasn’t for Gavin, I wouldn’t be here.

  If it wasn’t for him, I’d be enjoying my day off from the hospital sitting in my apartment, all alone, stealing Wi-Fi off my neighbors so I could binge-watch whatever the current thing is so that I don’t seem like an isolated alien in the breakroom when I come back to work.

  If it wasn’t for him, I would still be thinking about him, replaying the day we met over and over in my mind.

  Now I don’t have to do that. Why am I trying to push him away?

  Clutch and I walk into what looks like a shed from the outside. Heat follows behind. I don’t know why, but I kind of like that old guy. He seems to do a good job looking after these wild mountain boys.

  The lighting in the shed reminds me of an operating room, but the floor is concrete. White subway tile lines the walls, and the only thing in the middle of the floor is a big drain. Huge stand-up freezers line the walls.

  “Is this where you guys do your butchering?” I ask. I know they’re avid hunters. This seems like the perfect shack for hanging freshly hunted game.

  “Sure.” Clutch shrugs and smiles.

  “What do you need, Sloan?” Heat asks me.

  “I want to flush this out for a little bit in the sink, then probably just some good tweezers, maybe a scalpel, some antibiotic ointment if you have it, and some clean bandages?”

  “Sure thing,” he says.

  “And definitely some alcohol.” I laugh. “My hands are still shaking from the high-speed car chase those two outlaws just took me on.”

  Heat shoots Clutch a look that could kill. “If you get this girl in trouble, Gavin’s gonna hang you from the rafters.”

  “It’s fine,” he assures him. “We lost ’em at Brenner Pike. Ollie might have to do a little charming next time she’s downtown, but she’s good at that.”

  “Let’s get that arm of yours under the sink,” I say. I test the water, making sure it’s lukewarm.

  “Is this gonna hurt?”

  “Real fucking bad.”

  He’s howling like a maniac, and I haven’t even touched him yet. I just let the water roll off the wound on his arm. The little shards of shrapnel are coming out mostly on their own, and I’m thankful. For a big buff Marine, I would think he’d be better at masking his pain. Instead, he’s nearly bawling like a baby, and fighting me every step of the way. I don’t want to have to cut him for fear he’ll pull his shoulder out of the socket trying to get away.

  Heat returns with Olive, Red, and Tank and an armful of supplies.

  “For the lady,” Heat says, holding up what looks like a jar of moonshine.

  “Can you hit him over the head with it?” I ask. “He’s driving me nuts.”

  “I’m so sorry I’m inconveniencing you with my gunshot wound,” he bellows. “Can you give me some of that so we can get on with this?”

  Olive unscrews the lid and feeds him a sip.

  “You want some?” she asks me.

  “When in Rome, I suppose.”

  I barely take half of a shot and it hits me over the head like a ton of bricks. Maybe it did make him stop screaming. Maybe I just don’t notice anymore.

  Once I get the sore on his arm cleaned out as much as I can with water, I take a pair of tweezers and begin to pick out any traces of shrapnel left over. Olive holds the flashlight of her phone up so I can see better, Red pins Clutch’s arm to the table, and before long, he looks good to go. I lube him up with some ointment and cover him with a bandage.

  “That wasn’t so bad,” he says to me. “Thanks, Doc.”

  “Maybe for you.” I laugh.

  “Am I going to have a scar?”

  “Probably,” I tell him. “Keep it clean, though, and when it starts to heal I can give you some stuff to help.”

  He grabs my arm, turning it and I wince. “Maybe I can just get a tattoo to cover it up like yours,” he says, running his fingers over the colorful but bumpy bird of paradise.

  I look right at Olive, not knowing what to say. She offers me no help, just frowns.

  “Sure,” I say, “but I don’t see you as a floral kinda guy.”

  “Even after the way he’s been crying for the last forty-five minutes?” Red chuckles.

  “Fuck off,” Clutch says. “I got shot.”

  “You did not get shot!” Olive yells. “Goddammit.”

  We all start cracking up as his face turns red.

  “Seriously, Sloan.” He pulls me in for a hug. “Thank you so much.”

  “It’s nothing,” I assure him.

  Looming in the doorway is Gavin’s father, a menacing smile from ear to ear, and a pistol in his hand.

  “Boys are back,” he says. “Let’s rally.”

  “Be careful,” Olive warns all of them. The mood in the room has suddenly grown dark.

  Clutch jumps up to join them and I shake my head.

  “You better hang back,” Heat says. “Next time, son.”

  He takes his good fist and punches it into the wall.

  “Thank you, Sloan,” Heat says. “You’re a good woman.”

  Olive hugs them all before they head out the door. I can feel the rumble of motorcycles vibrate through the walls of the shack.

  “Where are they going?” I ask.

  “Hunting,” Clutch says, frowning.

  Chapter 15

  Gavin:

  I think I do a pretty good job of being an outwardly decent guy. I’m generally polite, respect the power of nature, respect women, and try to be good to my kin.

  If you want to meet the real Gavin Boden, though, well, you’ll have to go hunting with me.

  If you want to know why every gang in town thinks we’re a bunch of ‘sick fucking weirdos,’ all you have to do is be on the wrong end of said hunt.

  Catching a handful of Sabers was easy. Hell, even tying them up and getting them in the bed of Austin’s truck didn’t seem like too much of a struggle. I can taste blood on my lip, and I don’t know if it’s mine or someone else’s. I’m sure I took a knee or two to the face, but it’s so irrelevant it almost makes me laugh.

  If you try and hurt my crew, we don’t try and hurt you back.

  We just fucking kill you.

  I have enough blood on my hands that no matter how many times I wash them, how many good deeds I do, how right I try to do by others, there will always be a little bit underneath my fingernails to remind me of who I really am.

  I’m pushing the speed on my Indian Chief, but nobody is having tro
uble keeping up. We’re all on that level right now. All connected by that same common goal. That same wavelength where we are no longer mortal men. Today we are beasts of the wild. We stalked our prey. We even got them a little riled up. Now it’s time to let them loose and show them how we hunt.

  Cheers erupt as we pull into the gravel parking lot, my brothers eagerly awaiting our arrival with their weapons of choice drawn. We always make sure to give our guests of honor a welcome they’ll never forget, and as soon as we unload them from the back of the truck, they’ll be wishing they died on the ride here.

  Just then, I catch her out of the corner of my eye, walking from the butcher shack with Olive. Even she can’t break this fucked-up spell I’m under; the sight of her only intensifies it.

  These assholes shot at Sloan, too.

  I go to her, stopping her dead in her tracks, and her mouth opens, but nothing comes out but a slight gasp. I pull her mouth to mine; a greedy, intense kiss to show everyone who she belongs to. The real Gavin Boden doesn’t share.

  “You’re staying here tonight,” I tell her. I don’t give her the opportunity to answer. If she leaves, I’m done. She won’t leave, though. I can tell by the look in her eye that the game has completely changed over the course of the last few hours. Or at least she’s done playing. Being in a life or death situation tends to strip you of your pretenses. I turn to walk away, to rejoin the crew so we can start our festivities.

  “Gavin,” her voice softly peeps. I look over my shoulder and she’s wiping my blood from her lips. “Are you ok?”

  “You girls go inside. This is not your business.”

  Clutch grabs the two of them by the elbow to shuffle them into the mansion and I shoot him a side-eye. He takes his hand off her without hesitation, his face all apologies. I just shake my head and keep walking.

  This is how it’s going to be now.

  No more cat and mouse with this broad. I caught her, I’m keeping her.

  I saunter over to the back of the truck and pull out my bowie knife as Brooks undoes the tailgate. I don’t know what’s got me more turned on: the taste of Sloan on my lips or these six squirming Sabers in burlap sacks in the bed of the delivery truck.