Page 65 of Rider Daddies
Why does God make the villains of this world look like absolute hunks? If he wanted us to take the good path and live a life full of peace and prosperity, why design the baddies of the world to be so picture-perfect?
It’s quite the question. The more time I spend with these guys, the more I’m convinced that they’re not actually bad. Not in the slightest.
Manual and Tristan are the literal definitions of hell on earth. Tristan might try and disguise it with the luxe suits and stylish hairdos, but it only gets him so far.
Speaking of the devil…
I wonder where he’s flown away to now that I killed the captain of his ship. Will he be pissed that I ruined this for him? Is he already planning the first phase of his revenge plan to throw me under the bus? Is he on the run from the cops—same as us?
“You look concerned,” Ryder points out.
“I’m fine.”
“You killed somebody who deserved it. So what?”
“I’m not concerned about that. Not at all.”
Ryder studies me in the side-view mirror like this isn’t new information to him.
Is it bad that I took a fresh breath of air when Manual took his last?
Answer—no.
Not at all.
There are only two other highs that beat a cruise through the desert, and both are on par with each other—killing Manual, and being tied to a table by the brothers.
In most cases, things get easier when you give them time.
But a casual midnight kill is not like most cases at all.
I take another big gulp from my tequila on the rocks and set it down hard on the bar, feeling the satisfying burn travel down my throat.
It was different when Tristan cheated on our wedding day. It stung like a bitch, but I still had the chance to resume my life as normal, and to make the tuition fees that my family paid off worthwhile.
Mamma always told me how proud she was of me for going after what I wanted.
Would she be proud if she could see me now, working as a bartender for a motorcycle club?Isthis what I want?
I don’t know.
But I don’t really have a choice anymore.
I no longer have the option to resume my life and jump back into the nine-to-five. I took that freedom away from myself when I took somebody’s life.
And yes, I might get away with it being an act of self-defense, butnotwithout a complex investigative case first. One that would probably drag the Venom Vultures into all of the mess.
Do I want them locked up? No.
But if I come back after sex when I have it out of my system, my answer might be different…
“I heard what you did last night,” says the biker that’s next in line to order.
God, sounds like I’ve caused havoc in the bedroom.
I offer him a smile, short and sweet. “I’m sure the news has done its rounds.”
“Straight in the heart.” He tweaks an eyebrow. “Impressive. We could use somebody like you around here.”
