Page 21 of Dirty Salvation

"Fuckin' hell! Preach, move all that crap from the couch, why the fuck are groupies leaving their shit here. And where's the Butcher at?"

He had her up into his arms, she weighed next to fucking nothing, five strides he laid her on the couch.

His road captain Preacher, a tall serious man, Despite the awesome mental image of him, his body full of ink and incredible muscle, his bearded face was grim as a funeral as he stepped forward, arms full of coats, shirts, and pairs of panties, he whistled over the beat of the sound system, Rider saw him slash a finger to his throat and within seconds the music came to a silence.

It dropped the club into a hush and then voices raised. "Get them all the fuck out of my club. Now!" Rider issued, his gaze never moving from the unconscious woman.

Hangaround's and groupies began to move fast, smart people.

All that was left were his boys, those he trusted.

His own heart was in overdrive with worry as he searched out her pulse and found it steadily pumping away.Thank christ.She was alive.

Zara.

It was fuckingZara.

What in the good fuck was she doing at the Rebel's club? Of all the scenarios, he'd played through, talked through until his teeth hurt, he'd weighed in casualties, it was a war, it was expected, he would have been fine taking out whatever groupies of theirs had been hanging around, chaos and noise caused mistakes and Rider hadn't been willing to set any fucker free tonight.

But last on his list of eventualities, top being Hades dead as a fucking corpse bloodied at his boots, was seeing Zara there.

He'd thought of this girl over the years, too many fucking times to count, hadn't she told him she was going to a big fancy lawyer school far from here?What happened, baby?

Looking down at her, his brows folding in on themselves, he saw fatigue merging with her bruises, not just fresh marks either, and when her tank top rode halfway up her belly he saw purple and yellow bruises there, as well.

Fucking hell…his brain was already joining the dots…he knew what kind of man Hades was and Zara despite her appearance now was a beautiful girl.

His gut joined the parade of logic by tightening.

She'd been kept there.

Hadto be.

She was too beaten up to be a Rebel's groupie.

That motherfucker was shipping in girls from across the border as fast as Rider could stop him.

It still didn't explain what the fuck Zara was doing there. She wasn't the usual tits and ass piece that got off on hanging around dangerous men.

No, she wasclass. He’d sullied her for one night, show her the filth and the dirt of what great sex could be, wanted more, honestly, he’d craved her for a long fucking time afterward, thought about her more than he should have, but he’d recognized class when he saw it, she’d been destined for better things that a dirty biker could give her.

Staring down at her, hearing the footsteps of their medical man, Butcher would be carrying his familiar black bag. The man had no medical training that counted, he’d done many first aid courses, saved countless lives, he knew how to patch up a wound like no one else.

But for Zara, his hand shook as he scraped her hair back gently to better see her pale face, he prayed to god she didn’t need an actual doctor, hospital even, if he were any way decent he would have taken her and the crying kid there already, but then it would have brought too many questions that broke his and his club’s alibi’s clean open.

“What we got here, Prez? She looks sick as a dead dog. Mighty pretty though. She got any injuries I should know about?”

Rider’s jaw tightened, reluctant to move, but he did it anyway.

“Not sure, we took ‘em both from theRebelscompound, she’s in a bad way, might be in shock, she just collapsed, didn’t show signs of internal bleeding.”

Butcher, a huge lanky man in his thirties, efficient with precise movements, crouched by the sofa using his stethoscope to listen to Zara’s heart. Rider waited for any result, silent and deadly stood close by, his eyes trained on the woman as another man put hands all over her checking vitals.

He couldn’t help it, his lip peeled back with a snarl.

Butcher turned a curious glance but didn’t question it, instead went back to checking Zara over.

The kid, who Rider hadn’t taken a bit of notice of was hiccupping so bad with her sobs.

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