Hummingbird Page 2

  West helped her up while three sets of eyes focused on Big, only one holding shock at the recent turn of events.

  Little Miss Skull Cap.

  “Your lip is bleeding.” she pointed to the right side of his face with her pinky.

  The guy got a few licks in, Big hadn’t felt them. He wiped his mouth on his sleeve, adrenaline still pumping his system, fighting or fucking was always a big rush, “Sorry Darlin, What’s your name?”

  Fire lit her eyes as she gave him a sexy as hell grin that rivaled one of his own, “Hummingbird.”

  CHAPTER

  Two

  “SHIT BROTHER, HIS MAMA wouldn’t recognize him now.” West went through his pockets. Pulling out a Beretta, he released the clip, then pulled back the slide, loaded. He tucked the bullet into his jeans pocket out of habit, West was superstitious, believing it good luck.

  “You can still see he’s a fat sack of shit though.” Big’s focused on the delicate facial features of the chick next to him, “You got a coat?”

  “Not anymore, someone stole it in Utah.” She exhibited no fear of him, his brothers or the situation. He found it odd, but most women weren’t until he opened his pants, unless they were size whores.

  “Here.” Big took off his cut, placing it on the van’s hood carefully, he removed his plus size hoodie, handing it to her, before he shrugged his cut back on.

  It reached her knees, covering the jeans and tank top she wore. Hummingbird lacked the proper clothing for this weather. It changed swiftly, as if on a whim during their return trip. Life was like that too, shifting on a dime, at least for outlaws. This girl was as unprepared for the weather as Big was to look into eyes that green.

  KC made a grunt of disgust, snagging the keys West had just found from his hand, “You know what he’s carrying?”

  She shook her head, “He gave me a ride. We headed south, but he made a detour, then kicked me out a few hours ago.”

  “We’re headed south.” Big took an instinctive step closer, blocking his VP as he sized her up the way he did all women.

  “No.” KC pinned him with a look that dared him to say shit. They had many miles to make up, plus there were the contents of their saddlebags.

  Translation? NO HITCHHIKERS.

  Big was reluctant to let her out of his sight, so he didn’t follow his VP to the rear of the van. The sound of KC’s curse echoed, followed by a long, low whistle from West.

  “Wait inside for me Hummingbird.” not waiting for her answer, he made tracks to his brothers.

  “Sweet mama Mary.” Big grinned upon seeing the crates and boxes stacked floor to ceiling inside the delivery van. Felt like outlaw Christmas.

  One side was a top-shelf liquor store, the other a gun fanatics wet dream. Crates containing two out of three of the outlaw’s favorite vices, the only missing item...pussy.

  A rare smirk graced their VP’s mug. On KC, it was scary as hell all things considered.

  “Hummingbirds are good luck.” his tone oozed creepiness, “We’ll take her with us.” He nodded at Big.

  Something shifted inside him, his desire to protect her punching his gut. He stepped into KC’s space, making West look about as comfortable as a dog shitting tacks.

  “She’s mine.”

  “Does she know?” KC didn’t back down ever, his chest bumping Big’s in a display of dominance, “You may have a soft spot for pussy, brother. But even you are not this stupid. What did you reap the last time you sowed this seed?”

  KC referred to Big’s ex. That psycho had buffaloed him, but he got a daughter from it. Not that he could ever see her. Pam had a restraining order against him. He imagined obtained from a judge for a sexual favor. He put nothing past her. So yes, Big had messed up. He was prone to doing so, because his heart was too big. Ironically, that’s what made him the best brother in the club. He’d die for any brother without a second thought. Take a bullet, hell, take a hundred, take a knife or do time. Big was the most dependable man to ever put on a Mayhem cut. His soul bled pure outlaw.

  KC turned to West, “You’re driving this van home.”

  “I’m not leaving my ride here!” West’s nose was bright red from the freezing temperature.

  “You are if I say you are. This ain’t no damn democracy, princess.” KC growled.

  Big expected another fight, one he may enjoy even more since he could bear witness to the one currently brewing.

  “I can drive the van.” An eavesdropping female voice chimed in. All three outlaws turned in unison to look at the tiny chick in a hoodie four or five sizes too large, as she shivered.

  NASTY WEATHER HAD SETTLED, worse was coming, the local radio station forecasted sleet. Pissed off, KC drank from a flask instead of coffee. Stuck smack dab at the intersection of bumfuck and nowhere. Nary a motel close enough to reach before the weather caught them, might as well be standing around with their dicks in their hands. That never sat well with outlaws, especially KC. They may have balls of steel to do the outlaw shit they did, but only a moron or a very green novice would ride in conditions like those. Hell, it would be hazardous in a cage, and they had one of those to contend with on top of everything else. No way would they leave that gold mine behind. An outlaw had the freedom to be many things, but stupid was never one of them.

  At least it was warmer inside, West was still out there freezing his bad boys off dealing with Mr. Dumbass.

  Big sat next to Hummingbird while she devoured a cold burger and fries. That’s when the waitress sauntered over.

  “We’re closing. I’m sorry.” She looked it too.

  “You’re closing an all-night truck stop?” West asked incredulously, shaking the snow off best he could.

  “Have to. Weathers goin to get worse before it gets better. I have a kid at home. Cook wants to get home to his own family. Have to get gone before the roads are impassable.” She shrugged.

  Their VP wandered off with the waitress as she performed her closing duties.

  “Feel better?” Big asked. His attention focused on Hummingbird.

  She grinned, “Yeah, think I overate.” rubbed her flat stomach. “You know there aren’t any motels for at least 50 miles?”

  “How do you know?” West asked, still shivering.

  Her face grew pensive, “I’ve passed this way before. I like winter in the south, it’s milder.”

  “That would be preferable if you have no place to hang your hat.” West stared at her while taking the seat opposite.

  Her back straightened, chin lifted, “I hang my hat wherever I’m at.”

  “Why?” Big couldn’t take back his question, it just slipped out.

  “Because I hate where I came from.” She looked away from him.

  That was a dagger to Big’s gut. He felt it. Hell, he even lived it for a time too.

  KC was back with his usual amount of charm, “Load up, we’re goin to Nadine’s until the storm passes. She has a farmhouse a short way from here. Hummingbird, you drive the van. There’s a barn we can park it in.”

  The grin that spread across her face... pure wickedness.

  West’s eyes widened, his head cocked to one side, observing his brother’s lousy attempt at not smiling and said “Shit.”

  It’s slow driving. The roads already iced over and were slicker than one of the club bunnies on party night.

  Glancing back at the van with the tiny driver at the wheel. Big almost laid his bike down. His concern should be for himself. She was doing fine. If a rider posed a danger to himself, then he was also a danger to those riding with him.

  KC barked at him, Big looked over, not understanding his words but not needing to either, KC had his pistol aimed at him.

  Crazy motherfucker!

  CHAPTER

  Three

  BIG NODDED HIS HEAD and got his shit together in a quick fashion. Because it wasn’t a matter of if his VP would shoot him, it was where.

  KC was as hard as the good Lord made ‘em. Big thought it a real blessing
that KC had no children. He was a tyrant, and any kid with a dad like him would end up many shades of screwed up.

  A mile doesn’t seem like much until you’re granny driving it on a machine built for maximum speed meant to blow the doors off any other piss bucket on the road.

  The structure had indeed once been a barn. Still had the broad double doors and three-quarters of a ramshackle roof, the most important thing, it hid enough of its contents. The proof was in the rows upon rows of maryjane hanging from its splintered rafters. It appeared their waitress had a side gig. Too much for personal consumption, unless you were Preach, who had not willingly taken part in a day of sobriety in well over a decade.

  Nadine’s house had a view of a county road, a shitload of trees and nothing else. Its heyday appeared to be about a decade or more ago, just like the owner. In proper light and her natural surroundings of poor man’s rustic chic, the waitress appeared to own less of the excess decade of years she had on KC.

  Big mused about his VP’s no old pussy rule, out of context of course.

  Freshly showered of the diner stench, hair down, its wet nature made it appear nearly black, Nadine was kind of hot. There was an ethnicity to her hard to pin down. Her body had the looseness and thickness of a mature woman, especially her tits.

  She stood there wearing next to nothing and gazed at KC.

  “Well, whatcha waiting for outlaw? This pussy ain’t gonna eat itself.” She smirked.

  Gone the blushful waitress, a foul-mouthed siren had taken her place. Which was perfect for the Mayhem VP.

  “You wanna join?” she asked Big, looking more than a little hopeful.

  “No, ma’am. Appreciate the offer.” He smiled despite himself. Wasn’t that he opposed the idea of threesomes, Big’s idea of that perfect scenario meant his was the only dick in it.

  His thoughts were on a tiny winged creature that occupied Nadine’s bathroom.

  She nodded, “Your mama raised you right. Offer’s on the table, hun.” Her greedy, lustful gaze moved over to where West stood.

  Before she could attempt to recruit West “Let’s go, woman, you can’t handle two of us.” KC barked and slapped her ass with a resounding crack.

  Nadine laughed shrilly, grabbed his belt buckle, then started walking backward.

  She failed to offer either Big or West a bed other than her own. Nadine must entertain a lot; there was no shortage of places to park your ass. Eating up much of the living room’s space was two large couches and a loveseat.

  None of them appeared as comfortable as the floor since Big was so massive in stature, he wouldn’t fit on any of them. West was average size, hell he could probably use the two-seater to stretch out on. The only part of him you’d consider huge was his mouth. He rivaled their former brother Butch Bradshaw in that department.

  He smelled honeysuckle, it almost waylaid him into memories of his childhood. It emanated forth from the vacatur of the steamy bathroom.

  Hummingbird in Honeysuckle.

  The absence of a skullcap revealed hair that reached her waist. Her pale, slightly freckled complexion held hints of a now clear truth. Red. Flame red. He’d always been a sucker for long hair, his favorite color, crimson. The same as the Mayhem insignias.

  Her cheeks pink and freshly scrubbed made her appear far younger, at least Big hoped that was the case.

  There were moments, but then... there... were... moments. Big had a few important ones. Holding his baby girl, Charlotte, when she was born. Getting his full patch with the club. And this one he’d landed himself in.

  An overwhelming and ridiculously irrational desire possessed him to grab her and kiss her so hard her freckles retreated. Not that he wanted them to. They were cute as shit on her.

  Under his unwavering gaze, Hummingbird yawned, “Hey Big.”

  West chuckled “You get the half couch Pipsqueak.”

  She looked over at the name-caller, “That’s really funny. Think I haven’t heard that before? I forgot your name, but I tell you what, from now on call me kettle and I’ll call you pot.”

  Big chuckled, he appreciated a woman with sass.

  “Screw you Big, you too Tiny. Now that is funny! Big and Tiny.” He bellowed, fully impressed with himself.

  “You don’t get laid much, do you?” she dropped on the love seat.

  Big continued to laugh as his attention diverted to the tattoo that began on her left ankle then traveled up the length of her leg. A vine twisted around her lower extremity, disappearing underneath his sweater. Yeah, she put it back on and wore it like a dress, his blood still on the cuff. He pondered where her scrolling tattoo ended.

  She caught him looking, crossed her inked leg over the not tatted one, and never broke their eye contact.

  Every second while Big made his sleeping pallet on the floor, he felt a pair of emerald green eyes burning holes in his inked back.

  Firelight kept the darkness at bay, West grumbled in his sleep, Nadine’s headboard kept a three-quarter tempo against her bedroom wall while Big had a bird's-eye of Hummingbird as she fidgeted and shifted on the love seat. Positioned head to feet, a scant two feet between her and him. She sighed and flipped over again.

  Hummingbird gave him her eyes. She did it so freely; lacking the usual manipulation, holding only curiosity that Big could feel too.

  She pushed the cover off her, stood, then knelt next to him. Big lifted his blanket, and she snuggled close, laying her slightly damp head on his shoulder.

  “Warmer than that fire. Your name’s not really Big is it?”

  “Your name Hummingbird?”

  She angled her head to look in his eyes again “If I ever had a different name I don’t remember it, so yes, it’s Hummingbird.”

  That surprised him, he dipped his chin “Name’s, Cameron Hunter.”

  A smile threatened the curve of her lips.

  “Goodnight Big.” She whispered.

  “Night darlin.”

  CHAPTER

  Four

  IN THOSE PREDAWN HOURS, when there was finally some semblance of silence in Nadine’s house, he should have slept. Big thought about the petite firecracker in his arms. He wanted to take her home with him, probably not forever, but at least for a while.

  He wanted to know her story. Also, where her beautiful tattoo ended, he could see in the faint firelight it wrapped around her left thigh because his sweater rode up to her hip. A few moments prior, she rolled into him and slid her knee over his groin. Made him wish he didn’t still have his pants on.

  “Do you want to see all of it?” her voice was barely more than a whisper, her big green eyes studied his face.

  Big smiled, hell yeah he did. It was a loaded question, there’s so much he wanted to see. Not waiting for his verbal response, Hummingbird rolled onto her stomach and grabbed the neck of his sweater and pulled it up her back. An awesome tattoo exposed, it curved around her hip, extended across the width of her back and ended at her right shoulder. It was unfinished, the outline of a Hummingbird was there, but it had no shading or color yet.

  “How many hours did it take?” Big wasn’t conservative in his own body’s artwork. He had the club’s tat on his back, two sleeves, a few across his chest. He inked his brothers, mostly Mayhem tats. His hand moved from her hip as he traced the design. Her skin was softer than rose petals.

  She moaned “Lost count,” She leaned up on her elbows, pinned him with a serious look “Do you want to kiss me?”

  Big’s hand slid down to her nice round ass, “Do you want to be kissed?”

  Hummingbird offered him a smirk “Depends on where.”

  “Would you just kiss her, man? Tryin to sleep over here.” West grumbled, then turned over in his nonsleep.

  Big surged up from the floor. His brother heard the sound he made in doing so and knew what the result of his comment would bring. West jumped off the couch, moving away as Big approached his makeshift bed.

  “Fine. I’ll sleep somewhere else.” West knew better
than to provoke his brother, whose size alone ensured who would be the victor in any fight.

  Big didn’t necessarily want to fight his brothers, any of them, but he would on principle, because there’s an unspoken rule about cockblocking. West was sometimes a lot like Butch in that he didn’t give a shit, possibly enjoyed the activity as well, so long as he wasn’t the recipient. Shits always more fun when it happens to someone else.

  Hummingbird smiled, finding humor in the brief exchange, which hinted at the fact she’d been around outlaw types before. Big couldn’t know that for sure. He only had a feeling in his gut about it, about her.

  He resumed his place with her on the floor and shifted his torso over hers, only to stare into her haunted green eyes, the kind of peepers any man wouldn’t soon forget.

  “Apologies darlin, now where did you want that kiss?” he didn’t need to offer her his panty-dropping smile, Big already knew she wasn’t wearing any.

  “Come here.” Her angelic voice sounded anything but; she grabbed his neck, her fingers tangled in his dirty blonde hair.

  Yeah, thought Big as he tasted what she offered, her lips, tongue, and mouth open for his own sampling. He’d shared hundreds of kisses with a myriad of lovers since having his cherry popped at age eleven, Big got around more than a two-dollar hooker when the sailors took shore leave. Not once had he ever felt a kiss in the place this one stirred. He was so screwed, in more ways than what he typically enjoyed.

  Even knowing this to be true, lust overruled logic, always. It’s how Pam happened to him. The end of every bad decision he ever made began with his big dick and a lowered zipper.

  He had been too busy earlier staring into her emerald eyes like some lost puppy to notice the substantial rack she carried on her petite frame. Big’s hands were, well, big, and Hummingbird’s pretty tits filled them well. He loved everything about a woman’s body, the softness, fullness, the slight curves, all the angles of perfection. The sounds they made to the beat of his tongue or hips. Her heart pounded against his palm, her knee brushed his ribs, he could smell her pussy.