Page 19 of Road Rash

7

Jonesie

Are you freaking kidding me? My head still hurts, I’ve been scared out of my wits again and I’m standing in the middle of a busy biker bar in nothing but a sleepshirt, albeit a sleepshirt long enough to touch my knees, panties, and now sandals. No bra. I didn’t have time to put on a bra before running for my life. My girls are too big to go braless. And it doesn’t look like I’m getting out of here anytime soon.

We almost made it out. Then the damn Horde had to show up. Why? Why can’t one thing go right tonight?

While Dane keeps keen eyes on Remy while she’s forced to deal with them, I tug his shirt to get his attention. “I’m heading for the restroom.”

He clenches his teeth like I’m causing him turmoil while turning his attention between me and Remy, too. Indecision clear on his gorgeous face. That’s the last thing I want. “It’s just the restroom, Dane. I’ll be fine. You need to focus on keeping Remy safe for now.” She, after all, is at a bigger risk of everything.

“Don’t like you goin’ alone, baby.”

I roll my eyes. That freaking hurts, too. Note to self: Don’t roll eyes while suffering from a concussion. “I’ll be right back.” Then I lean in to kiss him. “Love you.”

Dane sighs as he presses his lips to mine. He lets me go to do my business and I take off before one of those Horde assholes does something assholeish to set Dane on edge keeping me from escaping the room.

As the women are only just starting to show up, thus haven’t drunk enough to need the restroom yet, I find it blissfully empty. I take the stall farthest from the door. When finished, I wash my hands then pause to stare at myself in the mirror. I’m a mess. A total mess. Thank the good lord above that Dane says he loves me because if he didn’t there’s no way he’d head home with me looking the way I look when there are beauties like Remy out there.

Self-conscious isn’t a good look on me. Neither is vulnerability. Unfortunately, I’ve donned them both today.Whatever. Get over it, Jonesie.

Get over it? Easier said than done. How is it possible for this to be simultaneously my best and worst summer ever?

I splash water on my face and use a couple pieces of paper towel to dry it. The cool water feels good momentarily on my head. I can’t wait for the day I wake up and don’t have a headache or feel tired. I sigh, readying myself to head back out there.

Someone cranked the music up while I puttered around in the restroom. From the sounds of it, things are starting to get a little rowdy. Laughing, cursing, yelling all in decibels to be heard above AC/DC being “shook all night long.” In years past I got off on the noise and chaos. And it’s not like I’m begrudging these bikers their good time, I’m not. Most of these guys have waited all year for this event. They use these two weeks as their vacation time from work. But today it makes my head pound and my stomach queasy. I want to go.

Hesitantly, I make my way down the hallway, dragging my feet so I don’t hit the main room too soon. Well, I would have made my way into the main room if not for the large body blocking my exit.

Huge. Bald. No neck. The man has no neck. His ride name is Bull. He looks exactly like a bull. He’s mean. He’s bad tempered. He’s Horde. And as noted before, he’s blocking the freaking exit.

My stomach plummets.

How do I get out of this?

“Seen those tits bouncin’, Jonesie. When you walk—damn, woman. I wanna fuck those first.”

Uh… no.

“Bull.” I hold my hand up to stop his forward momentum.

“Gonna fuck yer cunt, then yer ass.”

As if I’d ever let Bull touch me… Ever. Even if I wasn’t with Dane now, I’ve never gone near any of the Horde brothers. And not all of them are repulsive like Rage or Bull. There’s Vlad and a new guy they call Sarge. Gorgeous. But a gorgeous Horde is still a Horde. Women who sleep with them have no sense of self-worth.

“Bull, I’m off the market. I’m with Old Man now.” Apparently reasoning with the bull-headed man isn’t going to work. He continues his approach. Then the next thing I know, I’m fighting off grabby hands, pushing at him and slapping his beefy chest on the occasions I actually make contact. “No, Bull. I said stop.”

“Don’t wanna get fucked, you shoulda worn proper clothes. Shouldn’t be bouncin’ those tits around the brothers.”

“Stop!” I shout, balling up my fist to punch him this time. I aim for his eye at the same moment my knee takes out his groin. He stumbles back a step but otherwise looks unfazed. I’ve made him angry. He lunges for me. I duck, shrieking, “Dane!” Over and over, “Dane!” With the music so loud, it seems impossible that he’ll actually hear me. As Bull descends, I keep right on shrieking for Dane while kicking out as hard as I can.

Tears stream down my face. Who could blame me?

“The fuck?” I hear shouted by, I think it’s the new guy, a prospect with the Lords, Boss or Bossman, my head is rather preoccupied with not being accosted to remember. Bull stops his advance on me, jerking his head to look behind him. I use the opportunity to roll away but I’m snagged at the hem of my sleepshirt by Bull’s meaty fist. “Rex, Old Man, get over here,” the young guy yells.

Oh, thank the good Lord above.

“Jonesie?” That’s Dane.

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