Outlaw's Ride: An MC Romance by Carter Steele (books recommended by bts .txt) 📕

screams that would never come, but the terror was plainly written across her face and the way she latched onto me like a set of whole body vice grips.

It didn’t take long for me to hotwire the bike. I helped Sarah onto the back and had her hold on like her life depended on it. That was because it did, especially if any mafia remnants decided to chase us. I wasn’t all too worried as we took off down the long driveway and out into the backroads. Any goombas that showed up wouldn’t be able to follow me even if they tried. As a driver I was alright in a car, but give me a bike and reason to get the fuck outta Dodge and there was no man alive that could catch my ass.

I knew I couldn’t take her back to Patrick’s laundromat, at least not tonight. So where then?

I was kidding myself by pretending not to know the answer. I knew exactly where I was going to take her.

10

Jezebel

My heart hadn’t stopped racing all evening. Between the shootout and the motorcycle ride I didn’t know how much more I could take. We flew down dark streets like a dream. I tried to relax into Wreck and let myself calm down. It worked a little. I’d never felt safer than I did with him, but that did little to slow my rapidly beating heart. Being this close to the man who probably just saved my life sent my pulse pitter-pattering in a different way.

The visceral memories of men being gunned down as we escaped came and went in waves. Fortunately for me it was too dark and my eyes were closed for a lot of it so I didn’t actually see much of the carnage. After that was mostly just keeping my head down and running with Wreck.

I always thought of myself as tough in a lot of ways—I had to be to survive this long as Patrick’s hostage—but tonight… Tonight was something else entirely. I wasn’t strong enough to keep my wits about me and find cover. The shiver that tore through me then had nothing to do with the crisp spring air. If it wasn’t for Wreck I’d never have made it.

I would never end up saving my family from Patrick.

I had no idea where he was taking me but I owed Wreck a great debt.

Some time later we arrived at a late night motel that looked seedy but discreet. This was the type of place that probably took cash up front and didn’t bother with names.

When we came to a stop I got off and stretched my legs. All the stress had given my whole body knots. Pushing the soreness away, I tried to tell Wreck Pictionary-style that I needed to go back to the laundromat. It didn’t look like he knew which words I was trying to convey, but he at least got the gist.

“We can’t go back.” He dismounted and cracked his neck and generally limbered up. He probably didn’t expect to have to carry me when he showed up at the mansion tonight. “Being that Patrick himself was part of the mafia coup anybody that made it out of there alive would want to get revenge and the laundromat would be the first place they looked.”

He was right.

“Billy Bones’ clean up teams will be out looking to finish off any survivors, but just in case a few slip through…you’re stuck with me for the night.” He flashed me a hint of a smile, before he turned to walk to the entrance that led to the motel reception.

I gasped in air and swallowed the butterflies that skittered up my throat. I’d almost fell into his severe, dark eyes when he’d spoken to me. Alone with Wreck all night? Excitement and nervousness bubbled up inside me at what that might mean.

Wreck came out a few minutes later with a gaudy key chain and led me to our room for the evening. The room was modest. It had two beds, a TV unit, dresser, bathroom and all the other amenities you’d expect at a budget motel that had hourly rates. As modest as it was the room was probably three times as large as my room back at the laundromat, but was nowhere near as clean. One long look around and I decided I was going to sleep on top of the blankets that night.

“Hope pizza’s alright with you. I paid the sweaty guy up front to order one for us. For some reason whenever things go tits up that bad I always crave pizza. It’s a goddamn wonder I’m not five-hundred pounds rolling with this crew as long as I have.” Wreck snorted in self-disbelief, kicking off his boots. He peeled off his leather jacket next and tossed it onto the room’s only chair, then looked over at me apparently seeing something in my expression. “You can relax here. We’re safe.”

Was I really that tense?

I nodded, having no real way of knowing what was safe and what wasn’t these days, then quickly excused myself to use the bathroom. Between the terror of being shot at and the vibrations from the motorcycle escape it was a wonder I didn’t wet myself an hour ago. It was only after I washed my hands that I could force myself to really take in my disheveled reflection. It was much worse than I thought.

The wind from the ride utterly destroyed all the work I’d put into my hair turning my gentle waves into something more akin to a wasp’s nest. Between the sweat, tears and spilled champagne my makeup didn’t fare much better than my hair, and the many rips in my outfit made it unsalvageable. How I kept my scarf on I’ll never know.

I felt hideous.

At the very least the bathroom came with soap, shampoo, and conditioner. It was going to suck putting the mangled clothes back on afterwards but at least the shower would wash