Page 45 of Rider Daddies
I tug on my eyes, forcing them to open. Everything feels hot. I feel sweat trickle down my forehead, landing on my lips. I taste the salt and realize just how fucking dehydrated I am.
The room slowly starts to come into view, one piece of furniture at a time. First, a mattress sitting on a metal bed frame. Next, a closet, both doors flung open to display its empty inside. I manage to move my head and see a desk and chair—empty again.
Where the fuck am I?
It’s night still, crickets chirping loud outside.
I force myself up. That’s when I remember I cut my elbow on glass. I grit my teeth, wincing as I turn it around to have a look. Somebody has removed the glass shard and wrapped the wound up in layers of bandage.
How caring of them.
I use the wall to help myself up and lean against it to take in more of my surroundings. A pain starts to break out on my forehead. Putting my hand over it, I feel a bump.
Maybe I was annoying Manual too much and he decided to knock me out.
A cool breeze blows against my skin, ruffling my skirts. It takes me a minute to realize that a sliding balcony door has been left open.
I rush out of it as fast as my aching body lets me—anything to escape the intoxicating smell of mildew. Stars shine bright in the sky, thousands of them. That must mean I’m still relatively far away from the city.
It’s not long before I’m hitting the walkway edge that connects all second-floor rooms.
A motel.
An abandoned one by the looks of it.
I lean back over the balcony and check out the rusted “Motel Sunshine” sign that looks like it once used to be lit-up neon. The name definitely sums up the vibe. The gray walls and forgotten parking lot definitely give the place a cheery appeal. There areall but two cars parked here—I wouldn’t count the third since it’s missing two wheels.
Wind blows in through the desert, sending my hair into the air. Goose bumps spike up on my arms. It’s a pity Manual didn’t let me take one of the boys’ leather jackets before kidnapping me. I feel colder than a fucking freezer.
Or is that just because reality is starting to set in?
Let’s be honest—I was dumped at my own wedding. Tristan might’ve attempted to take me back, but it was all bullshit. He’s made his bed and now he has to lie in it.
Except, things aren’t so simple anymore.
Tristan was fooling me this entire time.
He didn’t love me. He wanted to own me.
It all makes sense now. Things moved fast between us. Ridiculously fast. I went from girlfriend to fiancée in the space of seconds, it felt like. He told me everything I wanted to hear.
On our first date, he asked me what my biggest physical insecurity was. I said my nose because I had the same one as my father, so from that day forward, he’d say how well my nose fit the rest of my face. How I didn’t need to be insecure.
He was fucking manipulating me this whole time.
I clench my hands into fists over the railings, feeling my knuckles crack. For his sake, I hope Tristan’s not loitering around here. Not if he wants his face to resemble a smashed cherry pie.
That’swhy he was forcing that wedding ring onto my finger at the clubhouse.
He wanted to have authority over me. Own me so his perverted ass could do whatever he liked. Sell me. Rape me.
Willow and I will never be on good terms again, but she fucking saved my life.
I shake my head, laughing. If anybody is watching me right now, I bet they think I’m crazy. My outfit is giving medieval wench who just got off her shift. My hair has seen better days. I have a lump on my forehead and a bandaged-up elbow.
Youcouldsay that Tristan tried toclaimme. This is exactly what I’m talking about. Men are all the same, just in slightly different fonts. They all want to control. To take ownership of things, whether it’s a bike or a woman.
I must say, the biker brothers’ means of claiming ownership was much more alluring. They almost had me.
