Her dark eyes widened. “Why does it matter?”
“It just does.”
“Are you looking for a particular age? Are you a sex trafficker?” The blood drained out of her face, and she took several steps back. She glanced toward the interstate like she was going to bolt right into oncoming traffic.
“Jesus, relax.” I raised my hands. “I’m not going to hurt you. Do you have a spare in the trunk?”
“I don’t know.” She sagged against the driver’s side door, the tough girl from a second ago vanishing. “This isn’t my car.”
I hiked a curious eyebrow. “Stolen?”
“Yes. I needed to get away fast.”
Damn, this little lady impressed me left and right. Her direct honesty took me aback. She hadn’t even tried to lie. I sensed she was older than eighteen, which was a green light for me to consider the possibilities of repayment for my help.
My gaze lowered to her black shoes. There wasn’t anything attractive about them. Utilitarian, not stylish at all and covered in mud like she’d been running through a field. Maybe running from her deadbeat, abusive boyfriend or the po-po.
She could be Mexican or a halfie. Or Italian. The red hair was throwing me off. I’d bet my left nut she wasn’t wearing anything under that T-shirt. Not a skirt or shorts. Maybe no underwear.
My dick twitched, eager to find out.
“Will you help me?” She scanned the area, a panicked expression on her pretty face.
I wasn’t sure if the streaks of mascara were from the rain or she’d been crying. My guess was tears.
“Check the trunk for a spare.” I shouted at Javi, my newest prospect. “Is someone after you?” I asked the chick.
“Probably.” Her bottom lip quivered. “Actually, I know he’s going to come for me after he discovers I’m gone.”
“Prez, I’ll call a tow truck. We need to get home.” Slay took charge of Javi, while making the call. No doubt he’d been listening to everything, along with Quino watching from his seat with his arms crossed over his chest.
I scratch my cheek, feeling deep down, a moralandselfish dilemma warring inside me. The Kings didn’t do drama. Or messy. I sensed she would bring both to our doorstep.
We also didn’t get mixed up with another man’s woman.
We sure as hell minded our own business.
I didn’t have a shortage of women back at the clubhouse. I could go anywhere in NorCal to get my sexual desires met by willing females. But…
I heard the fear in her voice and smelled the desperation radiating out of her pores. There was an innocence in her I hadn’t experienced since high school. Most women had an angle. They wanted to be the president’s old lady. I needed to be careful each time I fucked to avoid an unwanted pregnancy. It was stressful but that didn’t stop me from getting my nuts off.
“I will do anything you want, if you help me get away.” Her offer was tempting. She had no clue who I was or how getting involved with an MC president was dangerous, especially to her heart.
“Anything?” I crossed my arms over my chest. I didn’t believe she would doanything.
“If you help me, I’ll be indebted to you.” She bit her plump bottom lip, like she knew she was making a deal with the Devil but didn’t care. She was gutsy, I’d give her that.
And I liked gutsy women a lot.
Whoever she was running from was worse than asking strangers on Harleys to help her. Gotta give her mad props and respect, but still, she wasn’t very smart. Clearly, she had no clue who we were.
The Kings of Anarchy MC occupied most of California, from my NorCal chapter down to SoCal, Big Daddy’s chapter. We weren’t known for being Good Samaritans…
“I’m not a nice man, sweetheart. None of us are,” I told her honestly. It might be better for her to wait for a tow truck.
I peered over my shoulder at my annoyed brothers. They weren’t thrilled about standing in the rain either. But what I said was true. We weren’t Boy Scouts on Harleys. Nothing we did was out of the goodness of our hearts or free. We always demanded payment for our services.
“I know who you are.” She moved closer to me, close enough for me to get a better look at her. “I’ve heard about the Kings on the evening news.”
