Bound: Minutemen MC (20 page)

Chapter 28: No Distractions

Camilla had thought she had missed Dirk’s touch on her body, but now that she was finally experiencing it again, she realized the longing had been a lot stronger than what she had first thought.

Even though Dirk had said he would not fuck her again, he, too, seemed impatient. His hands roamed over Camilla’s naked skin, as though she was on fire. There was an urgency to his movements, like he was embracing something he had thought long lost. And perhaps that was just the case. Perhaps, even though he had tried to resist it, Dirk’s longing for Camilla was just as strong as hers for him. Perhaps he couldn’t stay away from her any more than she could stay away from him.

Camilla surrendered completely to this new onslaught of desire and passion—what was the point in even pretending to resist, anyway? They both knew they were no match for their mutual appetite. They had known the battle was lost the minute they set eyes on each other. Camilla’s curves beckoned to Dirk like a siren’s call, and Dirk’s untamable wildness had bewitched Camilla from the very start.

She ran her hands along the six-foot-five expanse of Dirk’s body, mapping out his numerous scars with her fingertips. She wondered about those marks, and she surprised herself with the sudden wish that she could hunt down everyone who had ever put a mark on him and make them pay.
What was that about?
A small voice in one corner of her mind told her she knew
exactly
what that was about, but she refused to listen; she just wasn’t ready. Not yet.

Dirk’s mouth began to trace a scalding path down her throat, and Camilla forgot about any coherent thoughts that might be running through her head. He kissed her breasts reverently, and he sucked at her nipples, as though he were drinking from the fountain of life. Dirk had always been passionate during sex, but he had never been worshiping. This was a new aspect of him, and Camilla felt flattered, embarrassed, and elated all at the same time. To be worshiped by a man such as Dirk Coleman was a rare and strange privilege.

Camilla threw her head back, long, auburn hair cascading down her shoulders, as Dirk’s mouth continued its delicious ministrations. When his fingers came into play, Camilla felt her whole body shiver with anticipation. She knew what was coming, and she couldn’t wait. The way Dirk played with her clitoris was something Camilla had never experienced before. It was something she dreamed of at night, the kind of dream from which she would wake up wet.

She didn’t have to ask. She didn’t have to beg. Somehow, Dirk seemed to know exactly what she needed. He slid a finger inside of her, and she welcomed it. His fingertip created swirly patterns within her, and she writhed and gasped in an explosion of pleasure. He smirked, pleased with himself at the effect his every gesture seemed to have on her.

He leaned down to capture her mouth in a hungry kiss—even as his hands continued to tantalize her. When his fingertips found her clitoris, Camilla’s world exploded and her brain short-circuited on her. The way he could touch her, the way he knew exactly what amount of pressure to apply, the way he knew exactly what would get to her…all of that alone was almost enough to tip her over the edge. But Camilla held on, knowing that the longer she let this go on, the more mind-blowing the orgasm would be.

Dirk smiled at her and moved, his mouth tracing a pattern down her abdomen and stomach, all the way down to her awaiting mons and lips. The tip of his tongue swirled around and on top of her sensitive clitoris, sending renewed waves of ecstasy shooting up her spine. Camilla knew she was done for now. She knew there was no way she could hold on much longer, and she decided not to fight it anymore.

Indeed, when the orgasm came, it was the most intense Dirk had given her yet—perhaps it was the long wait, perhaps it was the fact that she hadn’t thought he would ever touch her again. Perhaps it was just that she was hungry for him—a hopeless, constant kind of hunger that ate her up from within. Whatever the reason, Camilla’s universe dissolved into a red-hot explosion of white light. She heard herself cry out, but it sounded very far away.

When she regained her bearings, Dirk was grinning down at her, his blue eyes shining. “Wow,” he said, “that really got to you, didn’t it?”

Camilla growled. She was still unable to string one coherent sentence together. She reached up to grab the back of his neck, and she tugged him down for yet one more heated kiss. He went willingly, but he pulled away when she attempted to flip them over. The smirk on his face had widened.

“Nuh-uh,” he said. “This time was all about you.”

Camilla watched him in disbelief. “Are you serious?”

“Positive.”

He kissed her again, and then he rolled over to lie next to her on the mattress.

Camilla turned her head to look at him. “So that’s it?” she asked. “One mind-blowing orgasm, and that’s that for the day?”

Dirk laughed, loud and more carefree than she’d ever heard him laugh before. “I’m sorry, does that seem like too little to you?”

Camilla grinned. “God, no,” she said sincerely. “I was just thinking you might want something…uh…for yourself.”

Dirk propped himself up on one elbow and looked down at her with a serious expression on his face. “You have no idea, do you?” When she just stared at him uncomprehendingly, he continued, “You have no idea how sexy you are, do you?”

Camilla felt her cheeks catch fire, and for the first time in a very long time, she wasn’t embarrassed to let a man see her blush. She could have stopped to think about why
that
was, too, but she didn’t.

Instead, she gave an eloquent, “Uh…” in response to Dirk’s praise.

He smirked, not unkindly. “Giving you that orgasm right now was more than enough, Camilla. You’re not the only one who got some serious pleasure from it.”

Camilla blushed harder, but she didn’t care. She sat up and kissed him—long and hard and grateful for both what he had done and what he had said.

“What about your new ‘no distractions’ rule?” she asked once they were both settled back under the covers. “That didn’t last long.”

Dirk chuckled. “I wasn’t expecting it to.”

Camilla smiled, pleased with herself and the pull she seemed to have on this strange, remarkable man. “I’m glad it didn’t.”

Silence fell over them, and it wasn’t an uncomfortable one.

“What now?” she asked after a few minutes.

Dirk jerked lightly. He had been falling back asleep. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, what’s the plan? What are you going to do about the Tar Mongols?”

“I told you, we’re going to take them down. But I’m thinking, in order to do that, we might have to resort to extreme measures.”

Camilla frowned. She didn’t like the sound of that. She turned her head towards him. “Such as…?”

“They’re larger in numbers,” Dirk said after a moment. “I hate to admit it, but they’ve been getting the upper hand on us for a while now. They’ll probably try to take all of our resources before they go in for the kill.”

“You mean your warehouses and such?”

“Yeah. They’re scattered all over the desert. It’s unreasonable to think we can protect them all for much longer.”

Camilla stared at him. She could practically hear the wheels in his brain turning. “Then what are you going to do?”

“I think in order to win this war, we must make some sacrifices. They can’t take anything from us if we don’t have anything to take.”

“Meaning…?”

“I think we should abandon the warehouses. Get the weapons and the ammunition and everything out of there, transfer them all to one place. It’ll be easier to guard. Some of it will have to be left behind, of course, there’s no way we can make everything fit.”

Camilla took in his words. His “plan”—if one could even call it that—sounded like reason and madness all at the same time.

“Will Stephan think it’s a good idea?”

Dirk snorted out a laugh. “Fuck, no,” he said. “He’ll hate it. But he’ll come to see that it
is
the best course of action.”

“Do you think you’ll be able to convince him?”

“He’s not stupid,” Dirk said. “He’ll come around. It’s not Stephan I’m worried about.”

“The others?” Camilla guessed.

Dirk nodded. “It’ll be a lot harder to convince
them
. They might think I’ve gone insane.”

“Will that jeopardize your authority?”

“Maybe,” Dirk conceded after a moment’s reflection. “But it’s a risk I have to take.”

“Sounds like a mighty big risk,” Camilla mused. “I’m not sure I like it.”

Dirk smiled. “Darlin’, I’m not sure it’s up to you.” He didn’t say it unkindly, but there was a hard light in his eyes that let Camilla know in no uncertain terms that club business was most definitely
not
her business.

She heaved a sigh, and not for the first time over the past few, crazy weeks, she wondered how on Earth she had gotten here.

They didn’t say anything else after that, both of them knowing there wasn’t anything else to say. Camilla listen to Dirk’s breathing even out, but as for her, she couldn’t get any more sleep. She kept thinking of everything that had happened, replaying all the events in her mind. More importantly, she kept thinking of everything that
might
still happen. She was smack in the middle of a conflict that didn’t belong to her, with pretty much no chance of getting out until it was over. She didn’t think she would want to get out at this point, not until she knew Dirk and his club were safe—and once again, she didn’t stop to wonder why that was.

She hoped the Minutemen would win this war, for all of their sakes; she knew that if they didn’t, chances were she would never make it back to New York.

Chapter 29: Fire

The sun was setting on the horizon, a hot, fiery ball that was an omen for the fire that was to come. Dirk could almost smell it in the air—war. After three tours in Afghanistan, he had developed a knack for it. He could feel it coming from miles away, days and weeks and sometimes even months ahead. He had known for a while now that this seemingly never-ending conflict with the Tar Mongols was headed for its bloody epilogue. He just didn’t expect for it to escalate this fast and this violently. He supposed Herman Ruiz was just as anxious as they were to get this over with, and that Camilla Hernandez made for one hell of a pretext. Dirk knew
he
would fight a thousand armies for her.

He almost swerved off the road when the thought entered his mind.
Whoa. Where had that come from?
He decided he was better off not thinking about it too much. Instead, he thought about what he had said to Camilla the previous day, about pulling their cargoes out of the warehouses. The more he thought about it, the more he knew it was the smartest thing to do. He just didn’t know how to bring it up to Stephan yet; the man sure as hell wouldn’t be pleased. He would need some convincing, and Dirk was getting tired of all the talking. His hands itched for action.

Not for the first time, he pictured himself putting a bullet through Herman Ruiz’s brain. It was a sweet fantasy, one that he was hoping he would get to satisfy sometime
really
soon. He thought of Eleanor, and his heart constricted as it always did. For the first time, however, he didn’t feel that pang of guilt that he had been feeling ever since his strange affair with Camilla had begun. Somewhere along the line, he had come to the conclusion that if he had to strike up something with anyone, it might as well be with Camilla; Eleanor would approve of her.

He shook his head almost as soon as those thoughts entered his mind. He wasn’t “striking up” anything with Camilla. It was just sex and some recently developed emotional connection, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to let it get past that. He simply couldn’t afford to let that happen. Besides, they came from two entirely different worlds.

Dirk was about to head back towards the house when he spotted it. There was a fiery orange glow to the west, and it had little to do with the setting sun. He stepped on the gas and felt his trusted Harley respond immediately, accelerating down the desert road. It wasn’t long before he had covered enough distance to also spot the column of smoke. Dirk cursed loudly and rode harder and faster towards the location.

He was cursing everything. He was cursing the awful predicament. He was cursing Herman Ruiz and his Tar Mongols. He was cursing himself, for not having brought up his plan to Stephan yet. Perhaps, if he had, this could have been avoided.

It took him ten minutes to reach the storage place, and it felt like ten weeks. He knew it would have been guarded; they had set up shifts to keep a sharp eye on all storage places and warehouses the Minutemen had scattered across the Mojave Desert. He also knew the guards would be dead.

The sight that presented itself to him—when he finally reached the place—confirmed his worst fears. The place was going up in flames, and a body lay bloodied and lifeless a few feet away from the main entrance. Dirk left his bike and took his gun, even though he knew the ones responsible for this were long gone. He hurried over to the fallen man and crouched down to feel his pulse, even though he knew he wouldn’t find any.

Dirk swore again. They didn’t need to lose any more men. They had seen enough deaths already over the past few weeks. He reached out and closed Abraham’s wide, dead eyes. And that was when it finally hit him—there was only one body here. Where was Kyle?

Dirk stood and quickly ran around the perimeter of the warehouse. Thankfully, it wasn’t a very large one, and it took him only a minute or so to perform a thorough exploration. There was no trace of Kyle. There were, however, two more dead bodies, and it filled him with satisfaction to discover that they were Tar Mongols. Apparently, Kyle and Abraham had held their own before they were beaten.

Dirk cast a thorough look around, and he spotted his two men’s bikes—not far from the burning building. Kyle had not gone anywhere. The realization slammed into him with the force of a sucker punch. There was nothing to indicate that Kyle might have gotten away on foot.

“Shit!”

Dirk re-holstered his gun, and he ran for the flames.

***

The smoke was thick and the heat was unbearable. Dirk wore his bandana firmly over his mouth, but even that didn’t seem to be helping. The smoke seeped through the cloth and entered his lungs, and he was already coughing. He squinted and blinked furiously, eyes burning. Dirk had been a soldier, a warrior. He had seen war and more atrocities than he could count, but he had rarely been this afraid. There was something unstoppable about fire, about the ancestral terror that it brought with it.

Dirk looked around, his vision blurry and pretty much useless. How long had the warehouse been burning? The flames had devoured almost everything already. He’d had to kick in the door, discovering to his horror that it had been locked from outside—Kyle must have still been alive when the Tar Mongols were done with their handiwork, and they must have trapped him inside to die. Rage burned within Dirk’s veins almost as hot as the fire.

He wanted to call out, but the first attempt had stopped within his throat and sent him into a seemingly endless fit of coughing, his lungs on fire. He had learned his lesson. He looked around frantically, but the thick smoke made it impossible to see anything but shapes and shadows. He
had
to find Kyle. He couldn’t stand the thought of losing another man. He couldn’t stand the thought of someone else dying because of him. If only he had brought up his plan to Stephan…

He shook his head firmly, pushing all thoughts away, doing his best to empty his mind. Now was not the time for reflection and self-pity. He had to remain focused—or as focused as anyone could remain, given the circumstances. Dirk had seen fires before, back in Afghanistan, but for all the horrific experiences that war had “gifted” him with, finding himself smack in the middle of raging flames wasn’t one of them.

He was just about to give up, his heart breaking for this triple defeat at the hands of the Tar Mongols—the warehouse, Abraham, Kyle—when he spotted movement out of the corner of his eye. He dashed towards the spot, and there amongst fallen crates and useless weapons lay Kyle. He was writhing weakly, trying to get himself free of a heavy box of Kalashnikovs trapping his left leg.

Dirk bent down and heaved it off of him with an effort that he wouldn’t have thought possible under ordinary circumstances—but then again, there was
nothing
ordinary about this. He reached for Kyle’s flailing hand and draped his arm over his shoulders, hoisting the man up. Kyle leaned heavily against him, and Dirk knew he had to get him out of there now, before he suffocated.

The wall of smoke was thick and impenetrable before them, but somehow the dying light of the sunset still shone outside. Dirk guided them both towards the far-away shape of the fiery globe on the horizon. It was like a bad movie, and like in any bad movie, the hero somehow made it out alive.

Dirk stumbled into the open air, and he dragged Kyle to a safe enough distance before he allowed them both to collapse upon the sand. They coughed and gasped and sputtered, their lungs starved for oxygen.

Eventually, after what felt like an eternity, Dirk regained enough energy to drag himself next to his fallen comrade and examine his condition. He couldn’t tell how bad Kyle was hurt. The man was a mess of skin blackened by soot, sweat, and dirt.

“Are you okay?” he managed to ask between coughs.

Kyle nodded, still gasping for breath. It was quite a while before he, too, could find his voice again.

“Are you hurt?” Dirk asked, pulling the man up to a sitting position.

Kyle swayed precariously for a few moments, but he managed to remain upright. “My leg,” he muttered, pointing to the limb that had been crushed by the heavy box of weapons.

Dirk looked down. It was bloodied and bent at an odd angle. He cringed. “I think it’s broken.”

Kyle nodded. He turned his head and spat in the desert dirt. “Sons of bitches jumped us,” he croaked. “Killed Abraham on the spot, nicked me in the shoulder.” He pointed to a bleeding hole in his right shoulder. “Dragged me in there and left me to roast.”

Dirk grimaced. “Did they say anything?” he asked.

“They said this is only the beginning.” Kyle gestured dishearteningly to the burning warehouse. “They said they’re going to starve us out.”

Dirk scowled, jaw clenching in anger. He knew what that meant. It meant that the Tar Mongols intended to wipe out all of their stored goods before they finished them. Just like he had predicted.

“Well, we won’t let them,” he said resolutely. “Come on. We’ve got to get back to the headquarters and warn Stephan.”

Kyle cringed visibly. “He won’t be pleased.”

“No, he won’t.”

“I mean with me,” Kyle clarified.

Dirk suppressed a grin at the fear in Kyle’s eyes. Stephan Walker could sure be a terrifying bastard, but sometimes Dirk felt like not even his men knew how smart their president really was.

“It wasn’t your fault,” he said in reassurance. “Stephan will understand there was nothing you could’ve done.”

Kyle nodded, but he didn’t seem convinced.

Dirk helped him out and ignored the man’s pained cry. “We’d better get you to a hospital first.”

Kyle grimaced in pain and self-pity. “Stephan won’t like
that
, either.”

Dirk rolled his eyes. “You let me deal with Stephan, all right? Just take it easy now.”

After a couple of failed attempts, he was able to get Kyle onto his bike and mount up in front of him. He pulled out into the desert, leaving the burning building behind. His blood was boiling.

“We gotta send someone,” Kyle said, shouting to be heard over the roaring of the Harley. “For Abraham’s body.”

Dirk nodded curtly. “We will.”

Nothing else was said on their way back into town. Nothing else needed to be said. Dirk felt the all-too familiar anger stirring and writhing within his chest and stomach like a caged beast. The Tar Mongols had no idea what they had started. Dirk Coleman had had enough, and not even Herman Ruiz could be a match for a furious Dirk. He had tried his best over the past few years not to tap into that anger again, the darkness that had kept him alive in Afghanistan. But enough was enough. It was time to bring the darkness back.