Washed In Blood (Heaven's Guardians MC Book 1) Read online

  That night, he beat me within an inch of my life.

  It’s a miracle my baby survived. And if I wanted to give it a chance, I had to get the hell out of there. I may not know how to be a mother, but I will die to protect the innocent life growing inside me. And if that’s what it takes, I’m ready and willing to pay the price.

  Beaten to hell, I left that same night. I waited until the drugs and alcohol he pumped into his body took effect, then I packed a bag and ran. I walked for hours before I stopped outside a deserted truck stop to figure out my next move.

  As an older gentleman was leaving, coffee in hand, his eyes widened when they landed on my weary body resting on the curb. He offered a kind smile but no words as he climbed into the tall cab of his truck. Once the engine was running, he reached across and opened the passenger door, staring at me expectedly. His eyes held no judgement as they touched on every bruise, every scar, and every mark on my frail body.

  For several long minutes, I contemplated my choices. The man could have been a murderer, or a rapist using his Mr. Rogers look as a front, but I was out of options.

  He never asked any questions, never spoke a word. But his eyes told me everything. To him, I was not invisible. He saw me; and he cared.

  It was rather ironic that our journey ended in Colorado. This is where my life began, seems fitting this is where I would end up. I’ve been back in Colorado for twenty-one days, and all I have to show for it are failed attempts of finding a way to provide for myself and my unborn child.

  It’s past dark when I start my walk toward the deli in town. The owner is insistent that each day starts with new bread, so when the day is over, anything left in the case is thrown out. Lucky for me, I was raised on the ‘waste not, want not’ motto.

  After I get dinner, I need to find somewhere to bunker down for the night. Homeless in Colorado in January means cold days and even colder nights.

  As I head down the back alley behind the deli, I pass a shiny black Escalade idling next to the curb. Steam billows from the exhaust pipes, and though I don’t see anyone inside, it urges me to stay vigilant as I approach the dumpster, ready to scour any wasted edibles. Just before I open the lid, the rear entrance of the deli flies open, slamming against the building with a loud crack. With a squeak of fear, I drop to a crouch and scurry behind the dumpster.

  “No… please! I swear to God, I’ll get the money!” The man’s garbled voice pleads.

  My hands shake as his fear becomes my own.

  “You’ve already had your chance to get the money. The boss gave you double what he gives others. You knew the conditions. Now it’s time to pay the price.” The second voice is unfeeling, cold—menacing.

  “No… listen—” his voice shakes. I recognize it as Mr. Guidelli, the man who owns the deli. “I just n—need to get it…” He pleads again, “The safe. It’s in my safe.”

  “We’ve already been by your house tonight and your safe doesn’t have shit; though your wife was very accommodating… ‘fraid we might’ve left her in a bit of a mess,” the second voice implies.

  I force back the vomit creeping up my throat. My eyes burn with tears and I do my best to steady my breathing, but my heart is about to pound out of my chest.

  Mr. Guidelli releases a wounded, broken scream that sounds more like a battle cry. “What did you do to her? I’LL KILL YOU! I’LL FUCKING KILL ALL—”

  POP.

  POP.

  POP.

  Gunshots pierce the night, firing in rapid succession, they cut off Mr. Guidelli with brutal finality. The sound so violent and brash, a scream is released from my lungs before I have a chance to smother my mouth.

  “What the fuck was that? Go look around. The boss can never find out we were here—no witnesses...” the cold voice continues with mumbled curses before footsteps fade away.

  Both pairs of shoes disappear from my view underneath the dumpster. When the deli door slams closed, I take my chance to bolt and run in the direction of the woods across the street.

  “There… Get her!”

  I scream, pushing myself to run harder, and just as I crest the opening of the woods, I trip and fall to my hands and knees. When I turn to look over my shoulder, one of the men has his gun trained on me. I take in every detail of his fierce, menacing face and dark eyes in the quick seconds I have before I’m back up and running into the thick woods. When a gunshot blasts behind me, I release a shrill cry of terror. I can’t die, not like this.

  As soon as I’m covered by the safety of the trees, I scramble into the thick overgrowth. The guy chasing me is huge, no way will he be able to follow me in here. I squeeze through a narrow gap between two trees. It’s so dark, and with the moon covered by thick grey clouds, I don’t notice the steep decline.

  I lose my footing and slide down a ravine, tumbling through broken branches and loose stones. Cradling my stomach, my thoughts are only on my precious baby. I pray to any God who’s listening… Please, keep my baby safe.

  When I reach the bottom, my bones ache and my muscles are weak. I pause for the shortest second, listening for any sign the men are still following. Silence lingers, broken only by the eerie howl of a wolf. I need to hide. Further ahead, moonlight peeks through the clouds onto a fallen tree as though it’s a sign from above, leading me to relative safety. I scramble forward, almost tripping over the stump. I barely hold in my cry of relief when I see the tree’s hollowed out carcass. I can fit in there.

  Still clutching my stomach, I stay low and keep as quiet as possible. When I finally manage to wedge myself inside, I shove my bag beneath a pile of dead leaves and brush away the inches of snow to reach the ground underneath. I grab handfuls of dirt and rub it over my face and arms. This is what they do in survival shows, right?

  After what feels like hours, adrenaline wears off and I’m fighting to keep my eyes open. The wind blows with an unforgiving force, bringing a flurry of snow with it. You have got to be kidding me. I burrow deeper into the tree hoping to shield my body from the brunt of the snowstorm.

  The sun rises and sets until I lose count of the hours and days. I should leave and try to find food and better shelter, but fear overrides every other emotion. I need to protect my baby. I did not survive Vince, and every odd stacked against me only to die at the hands of a couple of thugs.

  God, if you can hear me, please send help.

  CHAPTER 3

  PRIEST

  Three days later

  “Yo, Prez. You got a minute?”

  Bullet, my sergeant at arms and tech-security man stands at the door. I wave my hand at him to come in as I move the ledgers and papers I was going through to the side of my desk. In his hand is the GPS tracking device he set up a few months back. On the screen, a blinking red dot. He takes a seat in the leather chair opposite my desk and glances at the paperwork.

  “You busy?”

  “Just looking over some financials for Sinners. I’m pretty sure that little fucker that Angel just hired has decided to keep a little extra before putting peoples’ cash in the register. You’ll need to pay him a visit and remind him who the fuck he works for.”

  Bullet leans forward as I push the paperwork across the desk. His brows knit together in anger. “The fuck? He’s only been there a couple weeks.”

  I nod, trying to rub away the beginnings of the headache. “Exactly. And since him, we haven’t hired anyone new. Fuckin’ kid, obviously stupid if he’s stealing from us and thinks he won’t get caught. Be sure to relay that he’s fired when you deliver our message.”

  He gives me a chin lift, letting me know he’s got it handled before he reaches forward and lays the device in his hands onto my desk.

  “What you got?”

  He shrugs. “It’s probably nothing but the land surrounding the back of the club had a wire tripped three nights ago. It was the same night as that big snow storm, so I figured it was a fallen tree. I didn’t notice it until now, but there’s a slight heat signature showing on the corner of
camera nineteen. Probably an old deer that was struggling to make it through the winter. Thought maybe we should go put it down and reset the wire that was tripped.” He folds his arms over his chest, waiting for my reply.

  Bullet earned his road name honestly and can put a bullet in a person quicker than I can try to reason whether or not they deserve it. When it comes to an animal, that hard as steel man turns into a big pile of mush.

  Fucking shit. I sigh, I won’t be able to talk him out of putting the animal out of its misery. “Alright, Mother Teresa, why don’t I come with you… in case you need back up?”

  He flips me off, but he knows he’s a little bitch when it comes to animals.

  “I’d hate for any of your tears to show up on the infrared cameras. I’m tryin’ to protect your manhood.”

  He laughs outright. “Fuck you. I can’t help it if I’m the only one around here who still has a heart.”

  I don’t reply because we both know it’s a lie. None of us have hearts anymore. They’ve been gone for years.

  I head across the room to the coat rack and grab my flannel lined leather jacket. The guys gave me shit for getting a lined jacket, but I don’t give a fuck. We live in Aspen. They can laugh their fucking asses off all they want, but they’ll freeze their dicks off while doing it. It’s early January now, so we’re lucky if the days stay in the thirties, and nights are even worse, barely reaching the low teens.

  We exit my office and turn down the hall that leads into the main room. Some of the doors we pass are closed, but the ones that are open show rooms that look like a fucking frat house, not a place where grown ass men live.

  As we make our way toward the wooded area of the forest, I drop my head to avoid the chill in the air. According to the GPS, the wire that was tripped is about a mile out from the clubhouse. Bullet is a certified fucking genius. After a close call a few months ago with some local kids and a gang initiation challenge, he rigged up a perimeter wide system. If a wire is tripped, heat signature cameras in that area will alert us to the location. Though we can’t always make out exactly what it is, we are able to tell if it’s walking on four legs or two. If multiple heat signatures are detected, we have a problem.

  It takes us around twenty-five minutes to reach the location. While Bullet gets to work repairing the wire and resetting the cameras, I shine my light at the ground, searching for signs of a wounded animal. Bullet said it had been three days since the beacon went off, and with a fresh layer of snow that’s fallen since then, I wonder if it’s worth freezing our asses off out here. Whatever it was, it’s probably dead.

  After a few minutes stumbling through the overgrowth and storm damage, I come to a fallen tree. At first glance, I don’t see anything out of the ordinary, but on closer inspection, it’s obvious someone—not something—has been here. My flashlight stops on an old, ratty backpack, a half-eaten piece of moldy bread, and a rotten apple core. My stomach clenches and adrenaline flows through my veins as I piece together what I’m seeing. Holy fuck. Someone is living inside there.

  Pulling my gun from the holster at my back, I squat down and remove the backpack from where it’s wedged in the opening of the hollowed tree. I keep my gun trained on the opening while shining my light inside. A young woman comes into view, and my heart that moments ago I was sure didn’t exist, pounds against my chest.

  Minutes feel like hours as I work quickly, hooking my arms under hers to drag her small body from the dead tree stump. When my skin makes contact with her cold flesh, I’m certain she’s already dead. There’s no way she could survive being out here for three hours in this weather, let alone three days.

  Urgently, I pull her small wrist from where it’s tucked underneath her and place my fingers against it, searching for any signs of life. Shock courses through me when I feel the faint but steady beat of her pulse.

  I pull her into my lap and shout until my throat is raw. “Bullet!”

  Seconds pass before he’s standing over me, gun drawn and aimed at an invisible threat in the darkness. I shine my light on the woman’s body, highlighting the dire state she’s in.

  He drops his gun and leans down; confusion knits his brows. “The fuck is that?”

  I move my arm slightly, angling it toward the ground and maneuvering the light to shine it on her dirt covered face. Her head lolls to the side, the action so sickening, bile rises in my throat.

  Bullet leans in for a better look and stumbles back once he sees. “Oh fuck. Oh shit, it’s a woman… holy shit.”

  Moving to my knees, I cradle the dying woman in my arms. “Help me, I have to save her.”

  He moves forward, attempting to take her from my arms. A burning, obsessive rage washes over me and I pull her against my chest, snarling at him like a deranged psychopath. “Don’t touch her!”

  Clearly stunned by the vehemence in my voice, Bullet jerks back suddenly and falls on his ass in the dirt. “The fuck, Priest? You asked me to help…”

  Christ, the fuck is wrong with me? Fear and anguish torture my mind, tearing at my once cold heart. “Just… help me stand. I don’t know what’s wrong with her, and I don’t want to risk hurting her further by handing her to you.” I’m positive he knows that’s a load of shit, but he nods and gets to his feet to help me stand.

  As soon as I have my footing, I start in the direction of the clubhouse. “We have to get her back. Now.” Her pulse is so low I’m worried she won’t make it, but I have to try. She fought this long, I can’t let her die like this.

  While we rush back, Bullet shrugs off his jacket to drape it over her as I break into a sprint. I growl low in my chest hating the sight of his clothing covering her, but she needs the warmth. Distracting myself from my barbaric thoughts, I shift into Prez mode and shout out orders. “Call Patch. I want him at the clubhouse when we get there. Tell him he’s got ten-fucking-minutes, or I swear to God I’ll kill him. Tell him he needs fluids, antibiotics, whatever the fuck else he needs when dealing with hypothermia and starvation.”

  Bullet grunts with a “Yep” and “Got it” to my every command. “Anything else?” He continues jogging beside me as we get closer to the clubhouse.

  “Call Angel, he’s at Corrupt. Tell him to go to the nearest store and get every heating pad he can find. I want them in my room and warm by the time we get there.” I have no idea if that’s what needs to be done, but with her frigid skin against mine, my only thought is getting her warm.

  He brings his phone to his ear, and after a few short seconds he’s barking orders at Angel. In that split second, I’m reminded again why I’m thankful for these men who became my brothers by choice.

  We make it back to the clubhouse in record time and burst through the back door so violently I’m surprised we don’t find ourselves on the receiving end of a few bullet holes.

  “The fuck is goin’ on?” Demon, my best friend, and Vice President of the club rushes toward me. Per his usual self, he’s pissed and has an eat-shit look on his face, but when his eyes drop to the woman in my arms, he goes still. “Who the hell is that?”

  Without a word, I push past him and make my way through the main room and down the hallway. When I reach my bedroom, Angel is already there, sweating and breathing hard. He must have busted his ass to get here in the time I had given. As he plugs the last heating pad in, he looks up at me from where he’s crouched on the floor. When his eyes lock onto the woman in my arms, his face drains of color so fast I worry he may pass out.

  “Turn ‘em on low. I don’t want to warm her up too fast.” I contemplate holding her until Patch arrives, but instead, I place her on the heated pads on the bed. It’s not until she’s laid out that we’re able to make out how truly emaciated she is. She can’t be more than five feet tall, and from carrying her, I know she’s severely underweight. There’s no way she weighs more than a hundred pounds. My stomach sinks when I realize it’s highly likely she won’t make it.

  A commotion in the hallway drags my focus to the door where Patc
h is standing, a large duffel bag in one hand, and his go-bag in the other. He moves past the other men in the room and makes his way to my bed. To my shock, he doesn’t falter when he sees the broken woman, instead, he drops his bags and starts shouting orders. “Priest, get me two bowls of warm water and as many clean rags as you can find. Demon, help me get her jacket and clothes off, they’re soaked. I need to find a vein and get fluids started, then I’ll check for injuries.”

  At the thought of my best friend laying a finger on this woman, the monster from the woods that had been silently waiting inside, comes back with a vengeance. Rather than rushing to follow Patch’s commands, Demon doesn’t move a muscle. It’s almost as if he knows exactly what’s going through my mind. When I make no move toward him, he steps forward and reaches for her shoe.

  Before I can control my rage, I have him slammed against the wall.

  “The fuck?” Spittle flies from the sides of his mouth as he shoves me back in an attempt to dislodge my forearm that pins him to the wall.

  My voice is menacing. “Don’t touch her.”

  He looks at me like I have a goddamn screw loose, and for all I know, I do. I don’t know what the hell is going on inside my head, but I don’t want anyone near her. The only reason I’m allowing Patch to touch her, is because he’ll do everything in his power to save her.

  Patch, having had enough of me pissing over my territory, and needing what he’s already instructed, loses his patience. “I don’t give a fuck who brings the water and who helps me get her clothes off, but do it now or I’m going to lose her.”

  After throwing a scathing look my way, Demon bolts out of the room in the direction of the kitchen while I rush to Patch’s side and help him get her jacket off. I turn to throw it across the room and notice the other men still standing there staring… at my woman. My woman? What the fuck? I scrub my hands down my face and shake my head hard. What’s happening to me?