Page 84 of Rider Daddies
And it’s making me hot.
The kind of hot that makes me want to take off my clothes and jump into bed.
I swallow the feeling before it gets the better of me and get back to work, serving drinks to bikers waiting to be served.
Underneath all of the sexual attraction and hot flushes, there’s a stubborn ache in my stomach that won’t vanish. And it’s becoming harder to ignore. I can indulge in kinky biker fetishes until my heart’s content, but all I’m doing is placing a Band-Aid over the bigger problem.
Tristan.
My life could be on the line.
I can’t go back home to California. It could be suicide. Tristan might be waiting to throw me intoanothertrafficking ring.
I set down the glass in my hand before I end up smashing it to pieces.
I should’ve killed Tristan as well as Manual. He’s still out there like a spider, waiting for somebody to walk into one of his webs. He’s a practicing lawyer. He has all of my personal information.
And he knows that I murdered his valued business partner…or whatever fucked-up alliance the two of them had.
This could be bad.
I’m not just at the clubhouse for a good time anymore.
What if I’m here for a long time?
What if staying here is my only choice, and I never get to see Mamma again?
My throat feels like it’s closing up. I tug on my neck, trying to open up the airways, but it only makes the claustrophobia worse.
I abandon the bar, taking the busy evening to my advantage to sneak outside. The cold air hits my skin in an instant, but it’s not enough to erase the anxious thoughts.
I fucking killed somebody.
And I enjoyed it.
Ripe blood was gushing out of Manual’s chest, and it felt orgasmic. I could do it again, and again. Maybe the person I should be the most afraid of is myself.
Manual was dead on the floor, and I was standing over him. He never saw it coming, and that made me feel powerful. Aside from the sex last night, killing Manual was the best dopamine hit of my life, nothing compared to academic achievements.
Back at the law firm, I won a case every now and then and got to sue companies, but thrusting a knife into a man’s chest felt different.
It was a real kill, not a corporate one.
You can take away money, but that grows back.
I’d love to see a human body regenerate.
“What are you doing out here?”
Ash again.
I turn around and watch him step onto the veranda, joining me outside.
It’s a good question—whatamI doing out here?
Deciding which path to take: good or evil. The latter is certainly starting to seem more appealing when it includes my biker brothers.
“Trouble in paradise?”
