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Chapter one
Spin
After I say my goodbyes to the brothers, I head out front andclimb on my bike. It’s too damn chilly to be riding the fucking thing, but I’m holding out for as long as possible. At this rate, in the middle of December, my fingers will freeze off and I won’t be able to ride, no matter how stubborn I attempt to be. Bad enough my ears feel like icicles resting on my head, as my tall mohawk offers me zero warmth. It’s all for the badass look and no practicality. My brothers are just as stubborn as I am about the winter months, not trading their bikes in for the cages unless there’s ice on the road. I shouldn’t complain, being that Texas is one of the warmest places to live in the winter months.
With a twist of the handle, my bike roars to life. The vibrations rush through me and instantly set my mind at peace. Tom Petty blares from my speakers, singing about free falling. I listen to a little bit of everything. I always have, but lately, I’ve been on a classic rock kick. Hard to believe all the people I love listening to are in theclassiccategory. Age has crept up on me—it feels like I was in my twenties just yesterday. At least the fuckers around me are getting old alongside me, so it doesn’t seem quite so bad. Hell, I should feel lucky I’ve made it this far with some of the shit we’ve seen and done.
Pulling out of the compound, I hit the two-lane highway, cruising at a comfortable speed. I have a few clients on the books today, coming in for expensive pieces. They’re repeat clients, so I took my time drawing up custom designs. Owning my tattoo shop has come in handy over the years, giving me the freedom I’ve wanted for the club and allowing me to schedule work on my time, not anyone else’s. It’s certainly not something that will ever make me rich, but I have everything I need in life, and the bonus is I love what I do for a living. Art has been a huge part of my life. I used to spend countless hours growing up with my nose stuck in my sketchbook, avoiding everyone else whenever possible.
Being an artist and an introvert made me an outsider to everyone else and I grew up being called a freak. Fuck them, though. They get to live their miserable lives stuck in a simple, boring box, whereas I have all the freedom a man could want. Besides, being an outcast pushed me toward tattoo apprenticing, which eventually led me to the Oath Keepers MC, so it all happened for a reason, I suppose.
The Oath Keepers became my brothers and the club my home, a place where I finally felt like I belonged and still do. I’d never trade them for anything. The brotherhood we share is a bond I’d never been privy to before I joined the MC.
Squinting, I make sure I’m not hallucinating as my eyes catch on something in the middle of the road, a lump of some sort. Whatever it is, it’s big and takes up a decent portion of the road. “I swear this better not be someone trying to sabotage me. I’ll shoot ’em and be done with their asses,” I mutter to myself while decreasing my speed. As I ride closer to the obstruction, I’m able to make out that its a person laid out in the middle of the goddamn highway—no bullshitting.
What the fuck are they thinking?
If this is some teen being an idiot, I’m going to kick their ass into next week for pulling a life-threatening stunt like this.
I don’t care how shitty life gets, don’t try to kill yourself. Get your ass up and leave. Make a change and save yourself. Realize you have value and deserve to live a productive life. I dealt with my own demons growing up, with few friends and all the name-calling, but I made myself fight through the shit.
My bike crawls to a stop on the side of the road a few feet away from the stranger stretched out on the freezing asphalt. “The fuck is going on here? You better not be dead,” I grumble, toeing my kickstand down and climbing off. If the long hair and big ass are any indications, I’d say it’s a female with some killer curves. I shouldn’t be paying attention to those things right now, but I can’t help it—I’m a man, and we’re visual creatures.
“Heya, sweetheart. You okay?” I approach slowly, attempting not to scare her if she’s hurt. Something’s got to be up. You don’t just randomly lie down to nap in the middle of the flipping road. Bitches are crazy at times, but they aren’t stupid. I’m surrounded by wild, intelligent women at the club, and they show us our asses quite frequently. We’ve grown used to it, so we expect it from time to time. The ol’ ladies are sassy as hell, but we wouldn’t trade any of them for the world.
“Darlin’, it’s okay. I’m here to help. Won’t hurt you, I promise. I’m coming closer, don’t be scared.” I’m covered in tattoos, have a mohawk shaped into four long points, and different-colored irises—one purple from some freak mess-up with my genes. According to my mom, it’s an anomaly, but to me, it just wigs people out. Sure, I get the occasional chick who says it’s sexy and wants to fuck me, but it never pans out to anything solid. At six foot three and intimidating to common folks, I’m mere fuck-boy material. I am not the bring-me-home-to-the-parents type, and I’ve learned to accept as much.
“Ma’am?” I ask, walking around the front of her after checking both directions for vehicles. Luckily, this road isn’t generally too busy. Her eyes are closed, and she’s pale, so I crouch down. Her chest moves, thank fuck, so she’s not dead as I’d feared. Carefully shaking her shoulder, I ask, “Hey, honey, you all right?” She still doesn’t stir and I have no choice but to shift her to the shoulder of the road over by my bike and call a medic. I’d hit 2 Piece up for help and have him bring his med kit, but he’s on a run. My hands move under her body, lifting and cradling her to my chest—she’s cold, colder than I am. Laying her on the dead grass, I grab the small throw blanket out of my saddlebag and bundle her up in it the best I can. I don’t like her lying on the cold ground like she is, so I sit beside her, adjusting her so her head’s in my lap.
One thing’s for certain—this woman is hella pregnant, and being passed out in the middle of the road seriously worries me. Grabbing my cell, I dial the local hospital and let them know I need an ambulance and where we’re at, then stuff my phone away to stare at the woman in my lap.
The hospital said the ambulance will be here in a few minutes, but somehow it feels like it’ll take a lifetime. I’m worried she won’t make it if they don’t get here soon, but there’s nothing I can do to change the situation. My hands move to her arms, rubbing to bring them warmth. After a beat, I gently rest my palms on her round pregnant belly. I don’t know what pushes me to do so. I’ve never been one to touch a woman’s pregnant stomach, but with her, I can’t seem to help myself.
“You okay in there, little one?” I ask, keeping my voice low and carefully smoothing my hands across her stomach. I move them back and forth, hoping her innocent child’s heart is still beating.
A shift from inside makes me pause, and I am stunned at what I’m feeling. Her baby just moved.It’s alive! Oh, thank God!“Hey there. Glad you’re okay. I’m here to help. I’ll take care of your momma until the medics get here, I promise.” Leaving one hand on the middle of her stomach, I spread my tattooed fingers wide to keep contact with the unborn baby, offering it some semblance of comfort, hopefully. I glance at my watch, noting it’s already been four minutes since I called for an ambulance. They need to hurry. I don’t care where they come from, so long as someone can help this poor woman.
My other hand reaches for her hair, tucking her walnut-colored locks behind her ear and out of her face. Taking her features in closely for the first time, I notice just how breathtaking she truly is. And broken too, if the discolored bruise marring her face is any indication as to what she deals with. Her skin’s pale for her tanned complexion. She’s mixed heritage, but I have no idea what exactly. Trailing my fingers through her hair, I whisper, “What happened to you?” Stupid question, but my curiosity has my mind spinning. I should text the brothers and let them know I didn’t get far from the compound, but I can’t bring myself to stop holding and caring for her. She needs me, and I’m not ready to let her go just yet.
“I’m Casey, or Spin. You can call me whatever you want, so long as you shake out of this and show me your pretty eyes. The baby’s fine. I felt it move, so you just concentrate on waking up and not stressing too much. You don’t have to worry about a thing. I got you. Just ask my younger sister, Mercy Mae. I won’t let anything bad happen, especially to a woman. I’m not cool with that.”
She’s not responding at all, and who knows if she can hear me. If there’s a chance, I want to put her mind at ease. Checking my watch again, it says six minutes have passed. A short amount of time under normal circumstances, but it feels like an hour in this case. It’s crazy how time can either slow down or speed up when you’re worried about something important.
It’s silent out here in the middle of nowhere between the clubhouse and the next town, aside from me talking aloud and a few random birds making noises. Although there aren’t as many birds as usual because it’s winter. Just thinking of that word makes me shiver with the miserable chill. I wasn’t made for the cold, that’s for damn sure. “I’m not typically much of a talker. It’s usually the other way around. I tattoo people and they talk my fucking ears off. Oops, sorry for cussing. I’m sure the baby doesn’t need to hear it. Anyway, as I was saying, it’s people jabbering on and on or asking me a million questions. They’re paying me, so I can’t exactly tell them Google’s their friend and to use it, you know?”
Sighing, I shake my head and place my palm on her forehead. I have no idea what I’m doing, but I feel like it may be appropriate. She’s cool to the touch. I’m not sure if it’s a good thing or a bad thing, and this ambulance is taking forever to get here. The baby kicks my hand again, reassuring me they’re both hanging on. Flicking my gaze up to the cloudy, gloomy sky, I murmur a quick thank-you that the baby is still responding to me.
“You hold on, Little Momma. Help is on the way, and I’m not leaving you in the meantime. Snuggle up to me and get warm. My big body should be good for blocking out some of the cold. You’re not from around here, are you?” I’d recognize her face in a heartbeat if she was, and so would my brothers. She’s the type of beauty you see and never forget. The kind of woman you’d move mountains for.So what in the fuck is she doing with a mark on her face?
My watch says it’s been eight minutes. I should’ve called one of the brothers to come get us. I could’ve loaded her up and had them take my bike while I hauled ass to the emergency room.Why didn’t I think of that when I found her? There’s no way I’d make it there before they arrive now, but still, hurry the hell up already.I inhale deeply, then exhale my silent panic and collect myself. There’s no use in both of us being out of it. One of us has to have their shit together, and it’s definitely not her right now.
Finally, the faint sound of sirens fills the air, and I have a bit more hope. “See, they’re almost here. They’ll take good care of you. You’ll get better, pop out a healthy baby, then stop by my shop sometime so I can lay eyes on you both. I’ll even tattoo a sweet little footprint or handprint on you somewhere with the baby’s name.” She’d probably take one look at me and turn in the opposite direction. Too bad because she’s someone I’d certainly like to see more of. There’s no ring on her finger or any significant jewelry I can find, so who knows? She may be single. If she wasn’t before, hopefully she is now after the injury on her face.
I’ll never understand how a man can hit a woman. I don’t care how angry you are—you protect them, not hurt them. It’s been ten minutes, and I can’t stop staring at her.I feel like I know her, yet she hasn’t said one word.Ten minutes on the side of the road, holding someone while simultaneously praying they’ll be okay, is both the longest and shortest time you have with them. She may not have said anything to me, but it’s long enough for me to meet her baby and to notice all the tiny freckles she has in random spots. There’s even one near the top corner of her lip. It’s ridiculously sexy, but I’m not trying to go there right now.
The sirens become louder, the ambulance is finally close enough for me to see it and watch as it speeds down the road toward us. The baby starts shifting around again, and I lightly rub. “Don’t worry. They’re here to help your momma. It’ll be noisy for a while, but then it’ll calm down again, and you can rest.” I’d stand to greet the EMTs, but I don’t want to jostle the woman or make her lose any of the heat I’ve been able to give her.
Both guys quickly jump out, waving. I know them both, one better than the other, from when my brothers have been hurt. Usually, 2 Piece fixes us all up, but on occasion, we have to call an ambulance or go straight to the local clinic for help.
