Patched to the Devil

Mara Quinlan has held pressure on a bullet wound before. She's never held it on a stranger in the middle of I-40 at 2 a.m. The stranger is Kell Roarke, a nomad carrying something for the Copperhead MC that three other clubs would kill for. He wasn't supposed to survive the night. Neither was she. Now they're in a safehouse outside Tucson with one burner phone and a wound that won't stop leaking, and the men who shot at them have a description of Mara's Subaru. Kell tells her it'll be three days. It's not three days. It's long enough for her to learn what his silence is made of. Long enough for him to learn that a woman who has watched people die for a living is not easy to scare. Long enough for both of them to stop pretending this ends when the package does.