She would never know how long she had been walking for, her brain stopped keeping track the minute the torn skin on her bloody bare feet stopped hurting. Her brain won't allow her to remember the moment her legs started to walk her to safety. Her brain just let her legs do what they had to because somehow they knew the way to walk her to safety.

It all became nothing.

She felt nothing.

Heard nothing.

Thought nothing.

Was nothing.

If only she had her senses she could have heard the deep rumble of the mass amounts of motorcycles approaching her on the deserted highway. If only she had her senses she could have felt the vibration of their bikes, soon about to pass her on the deserted highway that was now stained by her blood. If only she had her senses she would have heard the man approaching who had just skidded to a sudden stop and now gave chase after her.

His brain hadn't really registered what it had seen when he led his men over the hill but there she was, a girl in the middle of fucking now where walking as though she was on a damn stroll. Even from far away he knew something with her wasn't right. By the time he was able to stop she had continued her walk making it so he had to chase after her. He approached her from the back and see how horrific she appeared from the back it should have triggered in his brain that the front would have been much worse. He had only seconds to prepare himself for the front and when he eventually faced her he was left wondered how this girl managed to walk herself out of fucking hell.

"Shit" Mac hissed when he circled her, putting himself directly in front of her. The breakfast his wife made him this morning and then his liquid lunch swished violently from side to side in his stomach as his eyes raked over every visible piece of blood covered skin on the girl. He put a hand to his sweaty forehead to try and force his stomach contents to stay down. Looking beyond her at the scalding pavement she walked down he saw barely visible bloody foot prints. They were almost impossibly small foot prints for an adult woman if she was even that he couldn't figure out her age based on her childly height. Either she was a tiny woman or a large kid he couldn't decide when she was coated from head to toe in dried blood.

"It's bad." He warned the two other men approaching quickly behind. Hell he could have went into full descriptive detail about how bad it was and it wouldn't do justice for what they were about to witness, and truth be told they had all see a lot of shit in their time.

This officially topped their list.

Someone had done a number on her body and seemed to take a lot of anger out on her face. He didn't know where to look first and wasn't able to pinpoint exactly which wound would needed the most medical attention first. But none of the blood on her look fresh as in within the last hour, so whatever happened to her definitely finished within the last 24.

"Fuck." Topher circled the girl as her legs continued to walk trying like Mac to take it all in. From the different shades of dyed stained blood on a torn and sliced maybe white at one time tank top to the swelling and bruising on what was probably a beautiful face. His eyes avoided her thighs and assumed it wasn't her "monthly friend" stopping in for a visit that had long since dried in thin trails down the inside of her thighs from the blood stained boy short panties. He wanted so badly to reach forward and peel away the blood tinted blonde hair that was stuck to her face. "She's in fucking shock and she's fucking small." He said while taking another walk around, the Irish in his voice sounding extra thick. "Like a fucking child." For a man who rarely swore unless absolutely necessary he was sure letting his emotions get the best of him and dropping F bombs like no bodies business. "Any uh.." the man looked at the other two in matching leather cuts, his stomach somewhere near his feet. "Know of any kiddy ranches around here?"

Could that be who she was a victim to men who need serious psychological help and possibility castration with a dull rusty old spoon. But the question remained was she a kid victim or an adult selected on her tiny features to be passed off as kid victim.

"Maybe we are jumping the gun." The cynical one of the three bit down on the filter of his smoke. "For all we know her hick brother slash husband did this."

Did matter who did it this to her? Hell fucking no, she was never, repeat, never going back to have it happen again.

The man in the middle the one who made the decisions placed himself in front of her again but this time stopping her legs from their mission. "Little girl it's okay." He spoke as gentle as his voice would allow while taking her face in his hands feeling a wound on her cheek that was a trade mark for the Irish. "I've got you now." He told her while his stomach turned once again.

The moment the words were spoken was when her lifeless eyes shifted from staring out into nothingness and onto his. It was no longer than the length of a heart beat but he was sure he saw life flash within those dull honey browns.

Not much longer after that her legs gave out, they had done their job, they had brought her to safety.

Mission accomplished.


Mac walked back to his bike with the woman... no child... no woman... no...hell with the girl in his arms.

"We gotta get her to Harry's, get him to check her out." He told his VP and Sargent in Arms.

"Or we drop her off at a hospital and wash our hands of this shit" his VP bit off the filter on another cigarette. Since finding the girl this was Catcher's six smoke and so far it had been only about 8 minutes. Clearly he was bothered by this fucking situation too.

"And what she goes back to the shit fucker or fuckers that did this to her?" Topher shook his head and continued with the potty mouth. But it was understandable he was the only one out of the three with a daughter, well a living daughter, and right now it wasn't a stranger in Mac's arms it was his Maci.

"Ain't gonna sit fucking right with me just dropping this girl off somewhere knowing she's just gonna go back to be fucking killed." He cross his arms over his chest, his vote was cast.

"I ain't saying I like what I'm seeing I'm just thinking we don't have time to play hero to some honky bitch or kiddy star." Catcher's eyes met Topher's cold green eyed stare. "This isn't a leisure drive to check out the view in the fucking desert we have business to do." He continued.

Debate all they wanted it didn't matter what either man wanted or thought, the decision was made the moment Mac caught up with her.

Surprisingly enough this wasn't his first time to hold a girl who was nearly knocking on heavens door. He needed to do something with her quickly because time didn't feel like it was on her side. He remember the exact way if felt when the other girl he held had her life leave her body and it was pretty fucking similar to right now. Plus we was pretty sure he about to have a heart attack.


Ryan sat back on his bike making himself comfortable as he watched the three founding members of his MC debate fuck knows what about who the fuck cares. He was to far down the line to see what the hold up as exactly and he wasn't to thrill with stopping. He had his own deadlines to keep and he'd be damned if he got fucked over because someone up ahead probably got a flat. But eventually after a prolonged smoke break he soon heard the trickle of gossip make its way down the lines of bikes, because nobody loved gossip more than murderous bikers. He rolled his eyes and pulled out his phone looking at the time. He got the call this morning that he was needed back in New Mexico and according to his phone he had 2 hours to hit the pavement.

"Why do we care about some hick bitch?" He head his riding neighbour ask as he bit down on the cigarette while patting his cut down for a lighter. "Her daddy or brother probably out here looking for her, why is it our place to get in the way of their shit?" Clayton continued talking loudly to anyone who was listening.

Nobody listened to Clayton, ever.

Ryan said nothing as per usual he just leaning forward and plucking Clayton's cigarette from between his fingers. Using the lit smoke he ignited his own. When Clayton reached forward ready to claim his smoke back he had to watch it fall to the ground and just to be stomped out by a heavy shit kicked black boot. Ryan stood to full height and towered over the man who was about to pitch a bitch fit. "Fuck man" Clayton snapped pulling out his pack from the inside of his cut, "that was my last one." He crumpled up the package and chucked it to the ground like a child. Ryan didn't stick around to hear the lame insult Clayton didn't have the courage to say louder than a whisper.

Pulling his cut off he fisted the back of his hoodie he pulled it up and off his body leaving only a soaked with sweat white tee as he walked past men resting on their bikes. Men he should considered as brothers but he hadn't planted roots or sewed a location rocker on his back so to him they were just men who wore the same cut. Sliding back into his very well earn Nomad rocking cut he approached his president. "Here" he extended the plain black hoodie.

"Thanks." Mac accepted the material as one might accept an unmarked package. Casually shaking it out and only decided to put it on her when nothing fell out that could explode. Mac attempted to adjusted her in his arms so that he could dress her without anyone's help, perhaps being a little territorial of the little stranger.

With a grunt Ryan reached forward causing Mac to pull back. "I'll fucking help." He glanced back at the VP and the SAA. "Since no one else fucking will" he thought with an eye roll behind deadly black sunglasses. "Hold her and I'll dress her." In all of Ryan's years he had never even considered dressing a bitch, by the time he found a woman to fuck she had already undressed herself. His hand didn't know how to do this gently which made this simple task seem much harder then it had to be. He bunched the material at the hem and pulled it over her head then down over her body. A bead of sweat rolled down from his freshly buzzed head past his temple as he finally brought the material to her knees standing back so quickly just to looking down at the woman drowning in his hoodie. His knuckles felt as though they were tingling from the electricity of her skin, or maybe like Mac he was having a heart attack too.

For a man who show no emotion, he was sure making the men who knew him nervous. It was the way he was looking at her that forced Mac to try and move her outta sight, protectively. This was the same man who enjoyed making bastards bleed and from the way he looked down at this girl he seemed to be enjoying what he was looking. Maybe it was all the blood. Yup so Mac was officially uncomfortable.

Now if the president would have given this Nomad some credit he would know that Ryan took no pleasure in what he was looking at, well... that's not exactly true. Looking down at her made him want to kill the ones who dared touch this girl and that is what he took pleasure in, the ideas that played through his brain of the different kind of torture he could do to the bastards. When he found the man responsible, because he would, he'd cut off each finger that dared to touch her with a rusty dull knife, slowly.

"You looking at her like you know her." Mac tried to adjusted her again out of sight, it wasn't working and the only thing moving her around was doing was reminding himself that he ain't no young buck anymore. He was a man pushing 50 okay 55 and sure she weighed next to nothing soaking wet, but his body, deny all he wanted too, was no where near what it use to be.

Ryan gave one shake of his head, he had never seen this girl in his life, Clayton was probably right she was more than likely some unfortunate hick girl with a sick old man.

"I'll take her to Harry's." He stared at the girls face trying to picture her under the blood and swelling, his heart kicked his chest wall hard, yup this was definitely a heart attack. Something inside him triggered when he looked at her face something that told him she was beautiful even if his eyes couldn't see it yet.

Before today he had never called a girl beautiful.

"I don't know if." Surprisingly VP Catcher was the one to disagree. Catcher looked at the girl then at the man who made the bravest of the brothers uncomfortable. This bitch comes to how is she going to react to this man? That is if he actually brings her to the good doc. For all they knew they were handing her over to a worse kind of monster and she might go "missing" from her to the doctor's house.

Ryan's patience were draining. "You need to go to the compound and she needs help doesn't seem like a tough fucking decision to me."

With a final glance to Catcher and Topher, Mac released his own protective hold on the girl and offered her up to the man that could snap her neck reluctantly. "Tell Harry he can take whoever he wants as payment." The good old doc liked his payment in the form of pussy, the younger looking the better which probably wasn't a good idea bringing this little one there.

Fortunately for everyone including the girl in Ryan's arms the MC had a porn studio on retainer meaning she was one in a million, not literally, but the MC had what was needed to keep a twisted doctor at their disposal.