Page 58 of Rider Daddies
“Fantastic,” Saint says, joining us. “You’ve roused an audience now.”
I extend my vision behind Ash to see girls emerge from their rooms, gowns draped around their malnourished bodies.
I sharpen my eyes, searching for Lucia. For my Italian babe with an ass that won’t quit. So far, I have nothing. I know she’s not here, because if she was, she’d be getting all up in our business like she’s been doing since she stepped into the clubhouse.
“Anyone see her?” Ash asks.
“Nope,” Saint and I say in unison. “Maybe she’s a deep sleeper.”
“Hmph,” Ash says. “Or maybe, we just crashed the dragon’s den like Manual and his buddies were wanting us to do.”
I ignore Ash’s comment and admire my kill for a moment. The first guard looks like a lump of mashed potato in black clothes with tomato sauce squirted all over him. I love bringing a knife to a gunfight. Manipulating people’s body parts is one of the most satisfying things to do on this earth—besides sex.
Lucia has uncaged the animal in me.
It’s been years since I acted this violent.
I walk across the yard to retrieve my knife, sticking it back into my pocket. His blood has ruined my new biker gloves, which I’m not happy about. I suppose I’ve done him a favor, really. What sort of life is it to walk around in circles, guarding a motel full of hopeless victims?
I hope he has a better time in the afterlife.
“Nice work, boys,” says a voice, echoing across the parking lot. “You have successfully managed to take out…two of us. Are you waiting for a medal? Is that why you’re still here?”
Why is it that sex pests are always the most confident ones?
I turn around and fold my arms over my chest, watching Manual.
“Nice place,” I say. “Mind if we take a look around?”
“I thought you boys would’ve known better than to start snooping around my part of the desert.”
“You have one of our girls,” Saint says. He looks up to the balconies, taking in all of the victims. “You have lots of men’s girls. How the fuck do you sleep at night?”
“Why don’t you mind your business and let me mind mine?”
“That’s not how this works, pal.” With the gun in my hand, I gesture behind me to his dearly deceased. “What are you going to do with the bodies? Mince them and feed the meat to all of your victims?”
“They need their protein.”
That was a quick-fired response.
I take one more step toward him and shoot him in the arm.
Or so I thought. The bastard lifts it into the air, avoiding impact by a split second.
He might’ve gotten lucky one time.
But I’m fully loaded.
I shoot again, but this time I end up directing the muzzle away from him to shoot a man who thought he could sneak up on me.
More bullets fly through the air. I dive to the ground to dodge them all, rolling against the cement to make it to the other end of the parking lot.
Manual’s men have all come out to play, all twenty-something of them.
Fucking great.
Saint and Ash take out their guns and start firing, hitting some, missing others. I army-crawl on the floor and take out my knife, desperate to thrust it straight through Manual’s leg, making sure he never gets to walk another day again.
