Not waiting for a reply, she rushed back inside. Goosebumps covered her flesh. The evilness of the house, the men, the crimes hovered inside. Stopping in the archway, she eyed Askook. Then, she studied the other man.
Paco had killed them both as he held on at death's doorway.
Sticking to the task at hand, she avoided looking into their death stare and searched through Askook's pockets. Finding the keyring in the right one, adrenaline filled her.
She rushed out of the house, away from the spirits hovering around the house.
In the driver's seat, she looked over her shoulder as she started the car. Thankfully, Paco's breathing filled the car. Unsteady and bogged down, his erratic inhales and harsh exhales made it appear as if he was drowning in his own blood.
But he was alive.
She slammed the car in reverse, turned, and headed toward the main road. All she needed to do was get off the Rez, then she'd worry about getting him to the hospital.
Then minutes later, the cattle sign appeared, marking the end of free reining on Blackfoot land. Ahead the fence cut across each side of the road. She accelerated, seeing freedom. The tribal police couldn't stop them off the Rez.
She drove over the cattle guard. The car vibrated. Paco moaned in the backseat. She looked in the rearview mirror. She couldn't see him with the driver's seat adjusted back too far for her to accommodate for Askook's longer legs.
"Paco, we did it." She squeezed her hands on the steering wheel. "Hold on, baby. I'm going straight to the hospital."
A car passed her going toward the reservation. She avoided looking at the driver, aware she was covered in Paco's blood.
"Tarkio," mumbled Paco. "No hospital."
"I-I can't. You need help." There was no way she could take him to the clubhouse. He might not last that long. As she spoke, he was losing more blood.
"Tarkio." Paco thumped the back of her seat. "Doctor."
Not knowing what to do, she looked around for answers. There were two ways onto the reservation. She'd left Whip and the other Tarkio members on the other road in. It would take her ten minutes to reach them.
She chewed on her lip. The nearest hospital was almost forty minutes away.
"Tarkio," mumbled Paco.
She looked over her shoulder. Paco's eyes were shut. He wasn't moving.
Stomping on the gas pedal, she headed toward the Tarkio members waiting for her. Hold on, baby. Please, hold on.
Chapter 34Paco
Six weeks after Josie rescued him from the reservation, Paco stood in the driveway of his house. The sunshine, directly above him, shined down on his shoulders, taking the chill out of the late September day.
The door shut behind him, and Josie's hurried footsteps pattered over the concrete. "You should wait inside the house."
"It feels good out here." He reached for her hand and tugged her closer.
She leaned against him before catching herself, and he pulled her back to his body. The doctor had given him the all-clear. Every wound had healed. All that remained were the hundred or so scars marking his skin. The worst of them on his face.
He rubbed his jaw, smoothing his beard. It'd taken squeezing the doctor's neck to stop him from cutting his whiskers. And despite the risk of infection by leaving his facial hair, he'd healed with the help of the stitches. Though he looked like hell when he caught a reflection of himself in the mirror.
She stepped in front of him, rising to her toes. "Your beard is grayer in the light."
"Does it turn you on?" He kissed her upturned lips.
"Everything about you does." She dropped to the heels of her feet. "I don't want to take advantage of how nice Banks has been to give me the time off to make sure you take it easy and heal, but I think I should stay home another week. Just until you can get around better."
"The leg isn't going to get better."
"But it'll get stronger. Dr. Graham thought with some exercise, the limp would hardly be noticeable." She rubbed his sides. "You've only been able to breathe deeply the last couple of days. I don't want you overdoing and having a setback."
"Sweetheart." He inhaled deeply. "Enough."
"But—"
"Enough."
She nodded. He pulled her tight to his front, and she wrapped her arms around him. Once Tarkio got him to the clubhouse after a ride he couldn't remember, the doctor Tarkio had on call and paid under the table had saved his life. He went through a blood transfusion—thanks to Priest, who was a match—and had the bullet in his leg removed.
He'd dealt with three broken ribs. A mangled thigh muscle that the doc half-ass stitched together, and his face.
There were times he'd catch Josie looking at him—which hurt her more than him. He could see the conflict she went through, believing the scars were caused by her past.
He was too old to give a damn about his appearance. Maybe after so many years, they were his punishment for the crimes he'd done in his life. Maybe they were due to him for payment on failing his sister.
Maybe they were there to scare Josie away, but he was too selfish of a son of bitch to let her go.
As soon as he had gained consciousness, he'd let her know in no uncertain terms that as his woman, she would need to move in with him.
Chrischris quickly offered to take over Josie's rent and move her things over to Paco's house, giving her no time to come up with a good reason why she shouldn't live with him.
A low rumble grabbed his attention. Adrenaline fed his soul. Besides getting his nut off last night for the first time in too long, nothing had energized him as much as hearing his Harley in the band of motorcycles approaching the house.
Josie stiffened in his arms. "I didn't know they were coming."
"They're bringing my bike home." He looked down the road to the corner, waiting for the first sight of his motorcycle club brothers.
Priest refused to
