Beautiful Outlaw by Emily Minton
Pussy on the Brain
Bowie
I slide off my bike and look toward the trailer before cutting my eyes to Tin-Man. He and I rode out for Shooter tonight. What should have been an easy job turned into a fuckin’ mess. “Give me a few to get cleaned up, and then we’ll hit the road.”
He looks down to my shirt and back up to my eyes. “It’s gonna take more than a few minutes to clean that shit up. He got you good. You may need to see the doc.”
“Fuck that.” I can feel the sticky blood coating the side of my chest, and my blood starts to boil. “The bastard got me with my own fuckin’ knife.”
Tin shakes his head. “Your mind wasn’t where is should have been. If it was, that shit would’ve never happened.”
He’s right. My head wasn’t in the game. If I had been concentrating on our little side trip for the Hellions, no way this shit would’ve happened. Since the day my Granddaddy gave me his old bowie knife, it hasn’t left my side. No one, and I mean no-fuckin’-one was better with a knife than me. Even in the desert, I took out more rag-heads with my blade than my rifle.
“If this shit happens when we’re dealing with the Sixes, you’ll be sporting more than a gash,” he adds, reminding me of what lays ahead for our club.
I’ve forgotten everything, including my duty to my brothers. The problem is that my brain is wrapped up in a piece of pussy, instead of concentrating on what’s important. No matter how hard I tried to focus tonight, Shay’s face kept popping up. I knew her brother would take care of her, but I hated leaving her alone with the whack-job so fuckin’ close. I don’t know how the hell she did it, but she has me twisted in knots. I have to find a way to untangle myself before I get killed.
Placing my hand over the wound in my side, I nod. “That shit’s gonna change right now.”
“Don’t do it, brother,” he cautions. “This isn’t Shay’s fault. It was yours.”
“I know that,” I growl out, pissed that he’s getting into my shit. “I just have to remember what I am.”
“What are you?” he asks, studying my face.
“I’m an Outlaw,” I say firmly as I walk to the door of the trailer.
Before I can grab the knob, Lock swings the door open. He looks down at the blood still seeping from my side and says, “What the fuck happened to you?”
Not answering, I walk past him. Heading straight to the bathroom, my path is blocked by Shay. “Get out of my fuckin’ way.”
Her eyes search my face before going down to the stain on my shirt. Instead of saying anything, she turns around and walks into the bathroom. By the time I make it there, she has the sink running and is rummaging through the medicine cabinet.
Cutting her eyes to me then quickly looking back to the medicine cabinet, she orders, “Take off your shirt and sit down.”
I do as she says, sitting on the edge of the tub. “I don’t need you to take care of me.”
She grabs a washcloth from the shelf beside the sink and puts it under the water. Leaving it there just long enough to get it wet, she turns off the water and wrings out the cloth. Then, she turns to me with anger flashing in her eyes. “I don’t care what you need.”
Not waiting for permission, she bends down and starts to clean the dried blood from my side. Going from my side then to the sink and back again, she finally washes away most of the blood. Her small fingers work the wound, rubbing some gel over it and finally placing a bandage over the long gash.
“How did this happen?” she asks as she leans back to toss the blood covered rag into the clothes hamper.
“That’s none of your fuckin’ business.” There’s no way that I’m gonna tell her that I got careless and let a member of the Desert Ghosts get hold of my knife.
“Fine,” she says as she stands up.
She heads straight to the sink and starts to wash her hands. I can see the unshed tears in her eyes in the mirror above the sink. I’m not sure if it’s my injury or my words that caused them, but right now, I don’t care.
She finally turns to look at me and says, “It’s not deep, but it’s a large cut. You need to keep it covered for a day or two.”
Not wanting to give her an in, not wanting to let her in my head again, I say, “How the fuck would you know?”
Her body goes taut as she answers, “After having every part of my body cut on, I know a thing or two about wounds.”
Not caring about the pain in my side, I reach out and pull her to me. All thoughts of not letting her get to me are gone as I pull up her shirt. I attempt to search her body for scars, scars that I didn’t notice last night, as she tries to pull my hands away.
“What are you doing?” she asks as she jerks away from me.
The sudden movement causes a pain to shoot up my side, but I ignore it. “What the fuck are you talking about? Who the hell cut you?”
She takes a few steps back and leans against the bathroom wall. “Marcus made me have surgeries. He wanted me to look like his dead wife.”
Nina told me that Shay had lived her life in the shadow of the bastard’s ex-wife. She even said the dick-head called her by the others woman’s name, but she didn’t say shit about surgeries. “You’ve gotta be shitting me.”
Her hand goes to her face to run over her nose, something I’ve seen her do more than once. “My nose was done right after we got married, my chin after that, and my eyes were pulled back to give them a tilt.” She smiles, but it looks sad. “It didn’t work. The doctor didn’t pull the skin tight enough to give them the tilt Marcus wanted, so they’re still mine.”
“Fuck…” I mumble.
She goes quiet for a minute, staring at me, but I can tell that she isn’t seeing anything. Right now, she is lost in her memories. She looks away, moving her hand to her ears. “My ears were pinned back, and my breasts were reduced. I had my tummy tucked when I turned thirty.”
“Damn it, baby,” I say as I push myself up. Doing my best to mask my pain, I walk to her and pull her into my arms. “We’ll get it all fixed.”
I feel her body jerk in my arms. “What?”
“Soon as this shit is over, we’ll get it all fixed. You can have Opie Taylor ears for all I fuckin’ care. I love your tits, but if you wanna go to double Ds, I’m not gonna complain. Soon as I plant my baby in you, the tummy tuck will be all for shit anyway.”
“Baby?” she asks, her voice hoarse.
I pull back and look into her eyes. A few minutes ago, I wanted her to live in the background. Now, I want her front and center for every-fuckin’-thing. “If this shit works out, you’ll be giving me a baby.”
She relaxes the slightest bit, leaning into my hold. “He wanted me to have my tubes tied. That’s why I left. I wanted to have a baby with someone I loved. I let all my other dreams go, but I couldn’t lose that one too.”
Her words cause my stomach to burn. “Like I said, you’ll be giving me a baby.”