Page 109 of Rider Daddies
That’s a little bit extreme, but I get why Tristan is saying it—he’s jealous.
“We’re twice your age, boy, and still look twice as good as you,” Saint calls from outside the window. “Take a long, hard look at yourself in the mirror and consider plastic surgery. It’s the only hope you have.”
Tristan growls again, pouring all of his energy into making stupid animal noises.
While he’s pretending to howl at the full moon, I reclaim some of my strength and come up into a crouched position.
I bring my legs up and insert them into the driver’s footwell.
“Hold on, Willow,” I say.
Then, I slam on the brake sharply.
Tristan’s head thrashes back.
I look at the speedometer and see the dial sink down to forty miles an hour in the space of a few seconds.
“Don’t worry,” I say into Tristan’s ear, his head smashed back against the headrest. “I’ll be kind and put you out of your misery before you can register the whiplash.”
I make use of my adrenaline and haul Tristan aside. He lands askew over the middle compartment, one leg poking into the air, the other stretched out in front of him.
“Take a picture,” Willow says, laughing. “Send it to your work domain and watch it circulate.”
I chuckle for a moment, but not for too long.
I still have a task to complete.
I settle fully into the driver’s seat, ready to take control of the vehicle and end this once and for all. I step on the gas and continue driving down the road, letting Tristan get reacquainted with my bra.
Saint and Ryder appear on my left. I unlock the windows and slide them down, a thick gust of wind blowing in.
“Swing a U-turn,” Saint calls. “Let’s go back to the clubhouse. If you keep driving down this road, you’ll hit Vegas.”
“What are we gonna do back at the clubhouse? Drag Tristan inside so the rest of the members can have a good laugh?”
Ryder laughs. “That’s a good idea.”
“No!” I yell over the wind. “He can’t be anywhere near the clubhouse. We’re gonna get caught.”
“Do you have any other propositions?” Ryder asks.
“We need to kill him,” Saint says. “Otherwise the persistent bastard is gonna keep coming back. Next time it won’t be with your friend. It’ll be with his lifelong buddies who just so happen to be members of the FBI.”
“He needs to be killed, but in the right way.” I face the road in front of me.
That’s when a lightbulb pings on in my head.
It’s savage, and if performed wrong, could end in my own death, but it’s the only thing I’ve got.
“Willow, get out of the car.”
“No.”
I huff. We don’t have time for this.
“Willow.”
“Why do you want me to get out of the car, Lucia?” She asks the question in a grave voice, like she already knows.
