Page 21 of Marcus: Sins of the Father

“Um, did you not notice my car is smoking?”

“Leave it. We don’t have time to fix it. You girls are riding with us the rest of the way.”

“But our stuff…” I protest, knowing before I get the words out how lame they sound.

“Melissa, we can’t stay here. The only thing that stopped those assholes last time was the fact there was an audience. There’s no one here. That makes us sitting ducks.” Billy digs a spare helmet out of his saddlebag. “Now get on the fucking bike.”

I shut off my car and pop the trunk, then climb out. “Give me a minute.”

He looks pissed. “What the fuck are you doing?”

I unzip my suitcase and pull out the snow pants on top, then slip them on. “I’m gonna need these if I don’t want to freeze to death, Billy.”

That shuts him up.

Harley comes around the side of the vehicle and does the same thing.

“Hurry the fuck up,” TJ snaps.

“Hold your damn horses,” Harley replies, hopping on one foot, yanking hers on.

“Harley, you ride with TJ.” Billy jerks his chin. The man likes to give orders, and it suits him.

I slam the trunk shut and slip on my ski gloves.

Billy holds out the helmet. I slide my purse strap across my body and put the thing on. I climb behind him, my hands wrapping tight around his abs. He glances over his shoulder.

“You ready?” He squeezes my glove, and I nod.

Harley climbs on with TJ, and the three bikes roar onto the road.

Pressed against Billy’s back, his body between my legs, I can’t deny how right this feels. I lay my head against him, keeping out of the wind and close my eyes, imagining a world where we’re together. A world where I am his woman, and we’re out for a ride. I know it can’t be, but after almost losing him, I allow myself to have this moment.

Billy’s body tightens, and his speed picks up. I lift my head to see what’s wrong. TJ and Marcus are motioning back and forth with Billy. TJ holds up three fingers. I glance behind us and see three single headlights about a mile away. Could it be the Death Heads? We’ve got at least another hour to go, and I doubt we can outrun them.

I look over at Marcus. He points to himself and then signals for us to keep moving. I realize he’s planning to fall back to see if it is the Death Heads and, if so, stall them so we can get away. He’s the only one without a girl on his bike. I know Billy hates this idea, but it’s the only option. Billy gives a curt nod, and I can’t help but wonder if this is the last time I’ll see Marcus. I wonder if Billy is thinking the same thing. I know he wishes it was him, but selfishly I’m glad it’s not him or TJ giving themselves to the wolves.

Billy taps his chest and gives him a two-finger salute as Marcus slows his bike. I glance behind me, watching his headlight as it grows smaller.

Please God, let him make it. Let all of us make it.

CHAPTER FIVE – ALL ON THE LINE

Marcus—

I slow my bike, not knowing what I’m getting myself into, as I let the pack of bikes catch up to me. If it is in fact the Death Heads, what the fuck do I do? My mind travels through several scenarios, but none end well for me. I wonder if I’ll ever get to see Brandy again, if I’ll ever get to feel her lips against mine and her sexy body pressed to me.

The big Harley engines grow louder as the pack closes in. My best shot at saving the others is to lay out my bike right in front of these assholes. I may not take them all out, but I imagine the rest will stop to help the ones I do.

The roar of the engines is right behind me now. I take a breath, mentally preparing myself for the sacrifice I’m about to have to make. I glance over my shoulder. The three riders are dressed in leather. I see their cuts on top of their jackets, but I can’t read the patches. They are definitely members of a club, but I want to be sure they’re Death Heads before I make a move. I let them close in farther while swerving in an effort to make sure they don’t get around me. When I check again, I fully expect to see the telltale Death Heads wings this bunch is known to wear on the front of their cuts, but it’s not there.

Who the hell are they? One pulls slightly ahead of me, and I see the Dead Souls patch on his back. This is our support club. Thank God. I take a breath and release it, along with the stress I was feeling. Cole must have called them in. They wave at me, and I’m sure my relief shows in the grin breaking across my face. The one next to me smiles back, and gives me a thumbs up.

I lift my hand in the air, motioning the others back, and they slow up enough for us to catch them.

When we pull along the guys, the same look of relief I felt is written on their faces. The girls are safe. We now have six bikers ensuring it, and I’ll take those odds.

We ride another hour before finally seeing a pack of bikes approaching from the West on the other side of the interstate. I recognize them immediately. They pass us with Cole and Crash in the lead. Cole raises an arm in acknowledgement, and they slow to use the emergency turnaround in the median. Billy lifts his hand and signals us off at the exit coming up. We coast to the side of the off-ramp and wait.

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