Page 15 of Live Love Steal (Destroyers MC: Skilletsville PA #2)

Raincheck - Isobel

A biker hangout situated in the middle of a junkyard in the late afternoon was entertaining.

One in the middle of the night? Scary as fuck.

Despite being a weeknight, the place was crowded.

Men in leather, women in much less, and all sorts of ages, sizes, and varying degrees of weathered couldn’t begin to describe the scene.

Sketch parked the car, and I didn’t wait for him to open my door. I scrambled out to try to get fresh air. But we were in the middle of a junkyard. That meant the air smelled like rust and oil and dirt.

But that was a far cry better than the sourness that clung to me. I tried to face into the light breeze so it would blow the disgusting odors farther from my nose.

One of the several men outside yelled, “ Holy shit, Sketch , what did you do to her?”

“ Shut the fuck up. Is Smoke here?”

“ He just got back.”

“ Iz ?” He braved my PigPen cloud of yuck and held his hand out like he was going to guide me inside.

“ A real shower, right? Hot water?” He promised.

“ Yes .”

There was something crawly stuck to my back. I dreaded finding out what it was. Maybe it was innocuous like the spaghetti noodles I’d accidentally pushed my hand into. Or maybe it was something worse?

I couldn’t even breathe deeply to calm myself down. I’d gag.

“ Let’s go.”

He led me upstairs. At the top of the landing, the loft opened up into a lounge area with two couches guarding the walls, a coffee table with dubious lines of cocaine residue glued to the surface, and what looked like years of shake embedded into the syrupy spilled booze that had dried on it.

Beyond that, a hallway that had open doors lining it.

I don’t know what was worse. Knowing that three of the open doors led to mattresses flopped down on the floor, or that the locker room style shower-slash-bathroom was not private.

“ I can’t do this.” As gross as I was, this was too much.

My heart was beating too quickly, and I just wanted to flee. But overpowering that was the urge to say fuck it and tear my clothing off and just get clean.

At least there was soap and various shampoos.

“ I’ll guard the door. No one is going to come up here.”

That was a blatant lie. Everyone watched us walk in. Someone was bound to come up to investigate.

“ Clothes ?”

“ I’ll take care of it. Toss those in the trash.”

My favorite pencil skirt.

That crawly thing on my back moved.

Fuck it. Favorite or not, it would never come clean. I stripped out of my clothes and dumped them on the floor. I didn’t want to touch them ever again. My shirt stuck to my back, and I really didn’t want to look at what caused that.

The water was hot, and I lathered at least seven times. But still, the smell was there. It clung to me like… blood.

Like the bits of Victor’s skull when Sketch shot him, my breathing came in little gasps, and I couldn’t stand up anymore. If I fainted here, would there still be some gunk from that damn dumpster on the floor?

“ Oh God .” I crouched and tried to hold the tears in as I put my head low so I wouldn’t faint.

I’d almost died. Those bullets hit the dumpster wall by my face.

The scene was vivid, like a slow-motion movie that looped in my mind.

The noise was too deafening to be real. The bulge of metal was coming straight for my nose.

The slam of another bullet near my shoulder, which was hot against all the cold slime in that metal coffin.

I rubbed my tattoo and couldn’t even remember my mantra. All I could do was rock in my crumpled shell and try very hard not to cry. And not drown from the water I inhaled.

“ Hey . Shhh .”

Sketch tore off his clothes and wrapped them around me, picking me up from the floor.

A sob broke free, and the floodgates of all the bad things that happened to me today poured out in tears and uncontrollable tremors.

He wrapped his arms tighter. “ I got you.”

He’d almost died, too. I clung to him. “ Victor had a gun in his hand.”

“ I know. Shh .”

“ He was going to kill you.” My breath caught, and I couldn’t get my body to take in any air. I gasped, suffocating on terror.

Sketch shook me. “ Look at me. Look at me, Isobel . Damn it!”

I tried. I could barely see him through the flood of tears pouring out. I sucked in air too quickly, and it caught in my throat, tearing at me from the inside.

“ One … look at me. Two . Three . Exhale . That’s a good girl. Inhale .”

I wasn’t a good girl.

“ Isobel . Look . At . Me !”

He had his scary face on. I studied it, trying to remember if it was as scary as before.

I thought… why did I think he was scary?

He was fierce. My rock. My savior. A man with so much to live for, who did so much for everyone else.

Was there anyone he could turn to for help?

My trembling hand brushed along the stubbled beard on his face.

Its roughness jarring me back to the moment.

I pressed harder into it, feeling the give of the short, wiry hair, the warmth of his skin underneath, and more importantly, the bones that told me he was really here. I was really here. “ We survived.”

“ Yeah , we did, Iron Girl .”

He called me my favorite nickname. Fresh tears slipped out.

Sketch had no idea why I picked that element, or why it meant so much to me.

Yet , he called me by the name my Dad started calling me years ago.

How could they both be so wrong? I wasn’t iron.

I was a crumbled mess. My abdomen seized again, threatening to quit its job of helping me suck in oxygen.

“ I got you.”

He did. I could crumble, and he’d catch me. I could lean on him.

I could depend on someone for a change. I didn’t have to be the big girl, the one with the plans, the one who took care of shit.

A throat cleared in the hallway to announce someone’s presence. “ Sketch , it’s Bear . Smoke gave me the clothes, and I got a can of soda here for your girl. I swear I’m not peeking. Are you doing okay there, Iz ?”

Sketch turned our bodies to shield me from the empty door frame. Over his shoulder, I could see the hallway beyond.

Instead of answering Bear , I met Sketch’s eyes with a question. My mouth was moving, but I couldn’t say much of anything at the moment, worried it wouldn’t come out. Or worse, everything would spill out.

“ She’ll be fine.”

“ No offense, but I wanna hear it from her.”

Bear was going to force me into this. I wish I had Sketch’s certainty, his courage…

His eyes fell, no longer making contact with mine. I leaned in, curling around him, feeling the chilled water droplets on his back. “ I’m alive.”

It was more than I’d expected when I dove into that dumpster.

I’d been stymied by the brick wall at the end of the alley I’d run into.

When I bailed out of the car at the intersection, I knew it was the only chance I’d get.

The driver had slowed to avoid colliding into a truck.

I had my heels off and my seatbelt unlocked, and timed my exit right as he pushed down on the accelerator.

Then I rolled to my feet and ran for the nearest shadows I could find.

The sound of horns blaring and tires screeching spurred me to make an instant choice. In or behind? I opted for in. Which was crazy, I know. Who in their right mind would jump into a dumpster?

Apparently , it didn’t cross the driver’s mind. I had time to move some of the gross-smelling bags into place and slide under their greasy surfaces.

I kept a little pocket of air by my face and froze as I heard him banging around outside the dumpster. He popped open the lid and scanned inside. Then it slammed shut as he decided I would be insane to crawl under a week’s worth of rotten food. I heard him gag a little.

That was just fine with me. Gagging on the sour milk and putrid meat odors was much better than what they had planned for me.

But that sentiment wore off quickly. I tried to get out of the dumpster at least once, but quickly buried myself again as another car drove past.

I promised myself twenty minutes tops. Then I’d find help. Luckily , I didn’t have to wait that long because somehow Sketch found me.

Then he risked his life.

And killed a man.

For me.

I kissed Sketch’s neck. “ Are you okay?”

“ I’m fine.” His words were abrupt, almost emotionless.

“ Are you really?” I needed to know. I wanted to crack open his shell and find where I could crawl in and make it all better. I wanted to be certain my stupidity did not forever alter him.

He rubbed his chin against my forehead. “ I think so. I mean…” His thoughts didn’t make it into words because he looked over his shoulder toward Bear , who was peeking around the edge. I made sure to keep the most important bits of me hidden behind Sketch .

“ What are you looking at?”

“ Checking to make sure you didn’t hurt her. I’m guessing by the way she’s clinging to your ass that you two are good?”

“ Fuck off.”

My sentiments were a little more articulate. “ Bear ? We’re going to dry off soon. And you are not invited to watch.”

He snorted. “ Already saw you naked once.”

“ I beg your pardon?”

“ Had to see if the screaming was the good kind or the bad kind. You know… earlier.”

Oh God , he’d seen us having sex.

My fingers dug into Sketch’s back.

“ Ouch . Bear , would you go stand at the bottom of the stairs and make sure no one comes up?”

“ About that… Jackson and Wolf are in the office, waiting on your ass.”

Sketch swore. “ I suppose they talked to Whoosh already?”

Bear’s “ Yup ” was succinct and held a note of sarcasm in it.

“ Are you in trouble?” I asked.

He didn’t answer me directly. “ This is going to take a bit.” Sketch handed me a towel and rubbed at his body with the smaller of the two. Then he dumped his boxers on the floor and tugged on his pants. I caught a brief glimpse of his cock before he straightened.

His eyes met mine. “ What are you looking at?” There was humor in his tone.

“ You .” I bit my lip, wishing for more time.