Saved by the Dark Read online

  The object of his fantasies got up and his dick stirred as her delicate body was finally fully on display as she walked toward the bar. She was much thinner than he usually liked, but something about her just did it for him. She was so small, maybe 5’2” and light enough that she might have trouble on windy days. Still, he could imagine pinning her against the wall and fucking her for hours as she screamed out his name. It would be exciting to find out all the dirty fantasies hidden deep in her proper little mind. He would be happy to act each one out until she was addicted to his cock. Damn, she did more for him all buttoned up in her upper-class armor than any of the scantily dressed sluts ever had.

  Deciding to have a little fun, he stood. Max, the ever-vigilant Dark Sons Road Captain, raised an eyebrow. Sharp shrugged and gave his friend a small smile. It had been a dull few months. If a little flirting landed them in a fistfight, well, that would be the icing on the cake. His Brothers would have his back and probably thank him for the exercise.

  The vision in white stood in front of the bar, giving Pops her order. She trembled, her delicate hands clenching nervously. Was she afraid of being in a biker bar or was it something else? Her face was masked by beautiful blonde curls as she kept her gaze down. Sharp wanted a close-up look at the woman triggering all sorts of wild thoughts in his mind.

  “Hey, beautiful. Why don’t you let me buy you a drink?”

  She mumbled something, but her voice was like a quiet breeze, and the words were lost in the noise of the bar. Sharp reached up and tucked her hair behind her shoulder.

  “What was that, darling?” Sharp’s hand froze as his eyes caught on the skin he had revealed. Tiny scars ran up and down her neck, but it was the purple and black marks, poorly concealed by makeup, covering her neck and shoulder that had his muscles locking and a fine tremor of adrenaline firing through his veins. Emerald green eyes that sparkled with tears looked up at him.

  “Please. Help me.” Her words were strangled and so quiet, he wondered if he’d imagined them.

  “Get the fuck away from her, asshole.” The suit-wearing prick had noticed what was going on and stormed over towards them. Instinctively, Sharp stepped between the woman and the furious pansy who seemed bent on dragging her away.

  The bar went silent as all ten of his fellow Dark Sons stood. The dick stepped closer, getting up in his face. At 6’4”, Sharp didn’t often encounter people stupid enough to try and face off with him. Eight years in the SEALs had honed his body into perfect condition, and he hadn’t let up on his training during the ten years he’d been out. Add that to the biker leathers and weapons he wore, and people rarely even had the guts to look him in the eye.

  “Get your ass over here, bitch!” The man was at least smart enough not to try to push through Sharp, but still seemed oblivious to the danger that built around him. The woman didn’t move.

  “Doesn’t look like she wants to go with you.” Sharp did his best to keep his voice level, but his hands ached to beat the crap out of a scumbag who left marks like the ones he had glimpsed. He glanced over at the BBs flanking the prick, assessing any consequences that might come from them. The BBs didn’t usually deal in high-class women, but she might be one of their whores in dress up. Did that matter to him? No, it didn’t. She had asked for help, and he was going to fucking help.

  “Do you know who I am?” The suit puffed himself up as if that would add another four inches to his height.

  “No, and I don’t give a shit.”

  The two men glared at each other, with neither backing off in the now quiet bar. Pops cleared his throat. “If you’re going to get messy, Sharp, you take this piece of garbage outside.” With the casual comment, the aging bartender had unofficially declared sides, letting Sharp know everything he needed to know. This guy wasn’t welcome.

  “I’ll do my best, Pops.”

  The little twit looked around and finally realized he wasn’t in the power position. Outnumbered and drastically outgunned, he stepped back a pace, changing his tone to one of annoyed, but reasonable. “That is my property. How much is it going to take for you to step aside?”

  His use of the word ‘property’ made Sharp’s lip curl. Bikers claimed their women as property, but for him, it was a term of respect. This guy talked as if the woman was a jacket he had misplaced. Probably used to his money buying him out of any situation, he didn’t seem to fully comprehend this wasn’t a negotiation. One of the BBs stepped up and tried to clue in the pretty boy. “Mitchel, this guy’s a Dark Son. Just let the snatch go.”

  “I am not telling Caravaggio I gave his new toy away to some biker boy.” Mitchel huffed like he didn’t know he dug his grave deeper with every word. “Now, how much is it going to take?” he repeated.

  Sharp recognized the name Caravaggio and wanted to spit. That sick fuck had been banished to the Midwest, in the hopes his twisted shit would stop blowing back on his Mafia family. Sharp wouldn’t let any woman get sent off to spend time with that fucker, especially not this beauty who had his dick rising for attention. Her hands brushed at his back and he enjoyed the caress for a brief moment, thinking she held onto him for protection. His gentle thoughts scattered when the fabric of his jeans tugged against his stomach as his gun was removed from his waistband.

  “Don’t come near me!”

  Sharp spun to see her shaking hand pointing the gun in the general direction of the suited prick. He watched the untrained way the girl held his gun and came to the easy conclusion that she had no idea what to do with the weapon. His Beretta had a very handy and engaged safety and her clenched trembling fingers were nowhere near it. He would remember this the next time his Brothers razzed him about his backup weapon. He carried a Sig in a holster under his arm for when he needed to fire quickly but anything he put in his pants was going to have more than a trigger lock to keep it from firing.

  “Now darlin’,” Sharp began, trying to talk the shaking beauty down, “give me the gun. I’ve got you covered.”

  For a second, it seemed she might hand it over, but then Mitchel laughed. “She won’t fire. The little slut wants me to hurt her some more.” The asshole smirked down at the terrified woman. “Don’t worry, whore. You’ll get what you want.”

  Tears streamed out of emerald eyes and Sharp swore he could feel something break inside her. She turned the gun up and into her chin and declared, “Never again.” For a moment he saw the reality of what could have been. This delicate star’s light had extinguished because the dark had become too much for her. He had seen enough death that his mind filled in the gory picture as he watched her finger contract on the trigger. The silence seemed to stretch as he stepped forward, pulling the gun from now unresisting hands, and hugged the surprised but undamaged woman against his chest for a moment. His spine tingled as he imagined how things might have been different, had she known to disengage the safety.

  Sharp didn’t want to think about how bad this woman’s life must have been that she chose death over another minute with this asshole. Her defeated sobs as she fell against his chest were the last straw.

  “Max, settle up. We are out of here.” His Road Captain threw money down on the table, which more than covered their tab. Mitchel smirked and stepped forward as if to grab the sobbing girl. Sharp used his thumb to disengage the safety and pointed the barrel right at the idiot, stopping his forward momentum. Sharp took a moment to enjoy the warmth of her body against his own, seemingly pulling strength from him. “Now, little bird, you have a choice to make.” Sharp tipped her face up to him, putting his free hand on her shoulder and giving it a squeeze. “I got a long ride ahead of me that would be made much nicer with you at my back, or we can keep your friends here busy for a little bit, and you can make your own way out of here. What’s it gonna be?”

  One of his Brothers chuckled a curse under his breath. Sharp didn’t want to let this beauty go. He wanted to feel her body wrapped around him while he rode and, maybe later, he would give her a much more intimate ride. The di
sbelief and hope in her eyes tore him up.

  “She’s going nowhere.” Mitchel reached toward the small of his back but halted as the sound of nine other guns being unnecessarily cocked was evident over the background music of the bar.

  The two BBs had stepped back, hands away from their bodies, clearly indicating they weren’t willing to fight. With his Brothers at his back, Sharp felt safe enough to put his own gun away. He cupped the girl’s face and brushed her silent tears away.

  “There are two more guys outside, and they’re dangerous.” Her voice was like gentle music, slightly harshened by the tears.

  “Make your choice, darlin’.” Their eyes locked and Sharp swore his battered soul warmed at the exchange.

  “You. I choose you.”

  Their moment of connection was broken by Mitchel’s angry voice. “I’ll find you, bitch. I’ll find all of you.”

  Sharp and all his Brothers laughed. “Your buddies know right where to find me if you are dumb enough to try.”

  Chapter 3

  You never know how strong you are until life bitch-slaps you and you slap it right back.

  Several hours later, after the girl’s grip around his waist had gone from just clutching to a firm hold, Sharp realized he had never even asked her name. The long drive through small mountains and long stretches of highway passed quickly as he enjoyed her warm little body wrapped up against his back. The two couldn’t talk but their bodies communicated perfectly and his started to get impatient to have her at his front. Hours of riding wasn’t easy for inexperienced riders, but she hadn’t moved or complained. She just tucked her head down against his back like she was going to sleep with her favorite teddy bear.

  Sharp was in for a rash of shit when they got back to the Clubhouse, but from the smirks and grins his Brothers were wearing it would be all good natured. Every one of the guys with him was ex-military and, while they were rough and wild, choosing the life of an outlaw biker over the comfy middle-class, none of them would have turned their backs on this woman. What could have made her so desperate that death was the preferred option to going home with the man who had brought her?

  The whole situation bothered him. Sharp was going to have to get some answers, find out exactly what he had dragged his Brothers into. He patted her knee to let her know they were close and couldn’t help but linger for a moment, enjoying the silky feel of her pants under his hand. His time was limited with this beauty since he had to head back out before lunch, but he figured there wasn’t any question that couldn’t wait until the morning.

  It was almost midnight when they pulled through the gates of the Dark Sons’ compound just outside of Denver. Loud music played, and a few people milled around the Clubhouse. Late night parties weren’t unusual on any night, but the numbers were small since it was Sunday. Sharp expected it was the younger single Brothers and dedicated hangers-on enjoying themselves. Concern raced through him when the girl against his back didn’t even move when he backed his Harley into place. Had she somehow fallen asleep?

  “Come on, darlin’. We’re here.” Sharp patted her leg but only a small moan came from behind him.

  “Shit, Sharp. What the fuck happened to her back?” Razor’s voice came from his right.

  Sharp reached behind him and easily pulled her around in front of him. Once she relaxed her grip, her whole body went limp in his arms. His hands were damp, and when he pulled one away, even in the dim illumination of the outdoor lights, he could see they were peppered with blood.

  “Fuck, get Doc!” He scooped her into his arms and practically sprinted for the back room of the Clubhouse and the medical supplies it held.

  He knocked into a few people on his way and didn’t bother to apologize. He hit the lights with his elbow and brought her over to the table they used whenever Doc had to stitch someone up or deal with more serious injuries. In the bright lights of the room, he could see the back of her white linen outfit was almost completely stained with blood. The majority of it looked dried, but a few spots were still damp.

  At least she wasn’t going to bleed out before Doc showed up. He sat her down in front of him with her legs dangling off the edge, while he held her head up so she didn’t fall.

  “Come on, darlin’. I need you to wake up. Tell me what hurts.” He tapped her face lightly.

  She moaned, and her eyes fluttered halfway open. “I’m awake, Master.” Her words were slightly slurred. That combined with her condition told him just how fucked up her situation must have been.

  “Seriously, I need you to wake up now.”

  She leaned back, her eyes still not focusing. Sharp let her lie down and groaned as she spread her legs as if inviting him in. God, he was going to Hell because even hurt as she was, her movement had his dick jumping to attention. It took all his willpower to grip her thighs and start to push her knees together.

  He must have hit a bad spot though because her eyes fully opened and she swallowed down a scream as she lurched up, barely avoiding knocking heads with him.

  “Where am I?”

  Thank fuck, she was back with them. “You’re safe at our compound, darlin’.”

  The sound of several people behind him made Sharp turn to see Doc striding through the door with Hawk, the President of the Dark Sons, right behind him. At 5’10” you wouldn’t think the man could fill a room but his presence alone could intimidate even the most hardened soldier. His black hair was peppered with grey and it looked like fire was about to leap out of his brown eyes. Things tended to go sideways when the man was pissed. The two of them had been friends for years, both before joining the Dark Sons and after forming this chapter together, but Hawk was the one in charge and had the final say on all things.

  Doc stepped up to the table. “What is she on, Sharp?”

  “If she’s on something, she took it over five hours ago.”

  “No drugs, I’m fine.” Her voice trembled and she started to pull her knees up to her chest but stopped the motion with a wince.

  “They told me you had a girl passed out. I thought this was an OD,” Doc grumbled. The man was in his late sixties and had been an Army field medic. For the last 30 years, he had been with the Dark Sons and had chosen to move with them when they formed the Colorado chapter. His gray beard hung down past his waist giving him a gruff look, but inside he was a marshmallow to the women, which was why the sweetbutts still took him out for a ride on a regular basis. And why he was probably still here at this hour. Doc moved to the other side of the table and took in a breath through his teeth.

  “I’m fine, really. A few bruises. All I need is a shower, and I’ll be fine.”

  “Hell, you will. Everyone who doesn’t have to be here, out!” Doc’s bark, when he used it, got results. Everyone except Sharp and Hawk cleared out. The President pulled his VP to a corner of the room, leaving Doc to talk quietly with the girl.

  “What the hell is this?”

  “It’s a long story.” Sharp gave a short version of what had happened, and Hawk’s eyes softened a bit.

  “Damn it, Brother. Pussy is supposed to be uncomplicated, no matter how pretty. Why did you have to bring home a stray?”

  “There’s something about her. Thought she’d be grateful for the white knight routine and go home to her picket fence after a few hours on the wild side, but something is way off.” Sharp knew he’d colored the truth. He didn’t like the idea of her taking off. She called to the protective side of his nature, and he wouldn’t be happy until she was safe.

  “If you ladies are done gossiping, I need some help here. Get some water and a knife. We’re going to have to cut this shirt off to see what we’re dealing with.”

  The girl clutched at her top, hysteria adding an edge to her voice. “I’m okay, really. I’ve had worse. The ride was long, and the pain just got to me for a few minutes. That’s all.”

  “And I told you, girl, with that much bleeding, something needs stitching. I can’t know what, until I see. I’ve seen plenty of
tits before and so have these boys, so no need to be shy.”

  Hawk handed Doc a gallon of distilled water, and Sharp stepped in front of the girl. He caught her eyes and held them. “What’s your name, darlin’?”

  “Phoebe.”

  “Beautiful name. Phoebe, you asked for my help.” He reached up and gently took her cheek in his palm. “I need you to let Doc do his job. He was a combat medic. Whatever is under there, I promise you, we’ve seen worse. Do you trust me?”

  She took a deep breath and nodded. Within five minutes, they had her face down on the table and naked. For a solid minute, his body reacted to her beautiful tits with their ripe raspberry nipples, all his blood rushing south and nearly blinding him with fantasies. His eyes quickly refocused and his brain caught up and catalogued what he saw on her back. Sharp had seen battle wounds and missing limbs. Men bruised and bloody from fights and women with black eyes and broken limbs from abuse. None of that compared to the story her skin told. Sharp knew now he had lied to her. He may have seen more deadly wounds in the past but, fighting this nauseous feeling, he had to admit he had never seen anything worse than the long-term horrors this girl must have suffered.

  Bruises from black to yellow-green covered the backside of her body. Welts, scars and slashes peppered her back and most of her thighs. He didn’t see any burn marks, but that was a small mercy. How could she even move? He had seen men with half that much bruising from a fight laid up for days. Yet somehow, this little wisp of a girl had managed to ride five hours without complaint.

  He couldn’t even imagine what had made some of the marks on her. Red tinged his vision and the urge to ride and hunt down the fucker responsible for her pain was nearly uncontrollable. God knew how long she had been trapped with that sorry excuse for a man. He wouldn’t even use his favorite guns, which had earned him his sharpshooter nickname. Instead, he would use his hands, slowly breaking every joint in the asshole’s body.