The Run (The Hell's Disciples MC Book 4) (10 page)

Lennon

Buck is cold today—uninterested and irritated. Today he doesn’t like me. Sunglasses firmly on and a curl to his lips, he’s being extra biker badass this afternoon. It’s a beautiful fucking thing to watch.

Every word that comes from my mouth seems to annoy him more than the last. It’s fun. I was only trying to make friends, squish the awkwardness, but now I’m just trying to push his buttons because God knows it makes me weak in the knees when he gets all stern with me.

Looking back over my shoulder at the shop where Buck’s hiding out, I shake my head. He doesn’t want to take me to town, that’s fine. I’ll find my own way, like usual. Buck’s in a mood and I’m having a hell of a time not punching his teeth down his throat anyways.

I’m sure someone around here will take me and be nice about it. Buck’s not the only one with access to something with a motor, I’m sure.

Tromping across the gravel lot, it occurs to me when the whole property comes into view that this is the weirdest setup I’ve ever seen. Looking around, I get the feeling this place is a biker’s paradise.

Off the highway, down a dirt driveway, in the middle of a gravel lot, surrounded by dense forest sits an old rundown shanty of a bar and grill. Believe me, I use bar and grill loosely. You wouldn’t know it was here unless you were from around here, or stumbled across the sign, missing a bunch of light bulbs. It’s more of a wooden shack with a few tables, chairs, a bar, and a kitchen than a restaurant and bar.

Behind the “bar,” off to the side is a ten room motel. They’re something special, as in bad porn set, disco fever kinda special. Behind that is an old rusted metal shop, and behind that, through a patch of trees, is a cabin / house deal that I’ve yet to explore. And to top it off, there are motorcycles and bikers littering the entire property.

It’s like a weird fortress, secluded in the middle of nowhere and hidden behind miles of gravel and trees. It’s the perfect place to hide away from the world, conducting all kinds of illegal business. They have everything they need; food, shelter, bikes, parts, and all the things to fix them with. But most importantly, they have booze.

The gravel crunches under my feet on my way to the only person within shouting distance. A tall, slender, leather covered back is facing me, but I can tell it’s Buck’s brother, Poncho.

I wander up to a paved hole in the ground. “There’s a pool?” I muse, stepping around a rusty lounger. Makes sense, I guess, considering this was a motel at one point.

Shifting on his feet, Poncho gives me a sly smile, stretching his mocha colored skin.

“There is?” he mocks surprise, eying me over his shoulder. Walking up next to him, I can see a black garden hose in his hand, water flowing from the end into the hole in the ground.

“Don’t you have people to do that?” I ask, motioning towards the hose in his hand. I don’t know a lot about MC life, but I do know there are prospects to do this sort of stuff.

“Rather be doin’ this than stuck in that hot ass shop.” He nods over at the shop I just exited.

“It is hot.” I agree. I’d rather be out here too.

The hole in the ground was a pool in its former life. Fifty years ago, I’m sure it was nice, serene, and possibly even tranquil, but now it’s nothing more than a cracked and chipped hole in the ground. The old blue plaster is sun faded and rust streaked. There are cracks up the walls and there’s a piece of plaster missing from the bottom the size of Texas. It’s not a nice water feature. Hell, it’s not even clean. Bacteria breeding ground, I’m sure.

But it’s about one hundred fucking degrees out here. Botulism be damned, I’m dipping at least one toe in there if I’m allowed.

“Can I swim in it, or is there some biker rule that outsiders only swim in the river?”

“One piece or two?” he asks, cocking a thick black brow at me in question.

“A what?” It dawns on me the second I question it. I get it. He’s hilarious. “Naked.”

“Then you get first dip, babe.”

A few inches of water pool at the bottom of the hole, and at this rate, he’s gonna be here for a while.

“So why are you filling up the pool?”

“For this weekend. Why, you like watchin’ me fill up the pool?” Boredom. Pure, mind-numbing boredom.

“Bored. Watcha doing after you fill this pool up, huh?” Good God, please say leaving.

“What do ya want, Lennon?”

I’m new here. None of these people know me, but whatever interactions we have, I feel like they do know me, or at least they’re getting me. Or maybe it’s me being a female thing they seem to get. I can’t even lie without someone catching on.

“I need a ride into town.”

“Buck know?” They’re getting me and I’m starting to get them. They’ve got this loyalty thing down to a fine art. I can’t make a move without Buck in the know.

“Nope.” No point in lying. He could very well just yell across the lot to Buck and rat me out.

“Then no dice. Buck gives the go ahead, then we’re good. Buck doesn’t know, then it’s a no go.” Too goddamn loyal.

“Yeah, yeah,” I mutter, walking off.

The road down to the highway must be at least a mile. By the time I reach the highway, I’m hot, and that bacteria breeding ground of a pool sounds like heaven right now. I left Poncho to his pool duties and Buck to his tinkering. Figured I could find my own ride. Who needs guys with bikes anyways?

Reaching the side of the highway, I pray like hell it’s a busy one. I’m in no mood to stand out here all day, waiting under the scorching sun for a ride.

Walking a ways down the road, I see nothing but asphalt ahead of me. There’s not a damn car in sight. The sun’s pounding down on me from all directions, the rays beat off the road, causing waves to rise above the yellow dashes. It’s desert hot out here. At least I might catch a tan.

Running a hand down the back of my neck, I wipe away the beads of sweat collecting there. I’m dragging my feet down the pavement when I hear a vehicle come up behind me. Please let it be a kind, non-murderous motorist who’s willing to help a melting girl out with a ride.

I watch a truck slow down on the other side of the road. Giving myself a moment to memorize the plate, I read it over in my head; 00F26Q, just in case I get kidnapped, ya know. Safety and that kind of shit is important. I don’t really want to end up on the cover of the local papers.

The truck rolls to a stop. It’s a big, blue, beat-up rusty bucket, but hopefully it’s my chariot into town.

“Hey,” a man, maybe in his late thirties, hollers at me from his rolled down window. His arm is on the door and his head’s out the window, giving me a once over.

“Where ya headed?” I ask. I don’t have time for pleasantries.

“Town. Need a lift?” Nah, I just like standing on the side of the highway, in the scorching heat, hoping to make conversation with a complete stranger.

“Yeah, that would be ...” The roar of a bike cuts my words off. Oh no. 

Tires meet gravel and skid to a halt a few feet behind me. Shit. I bail. I bail real quick, as quick as my feet will carry me. “Never mind, I’ll walk. Thanks.”

“The fuck you goin’, Lennon?” Buck’s booming voice growls after me. I don’t bother turning around, I just keep walking really, really fast.

“Town.” I yell back. Asshole.

Boots beat down the gravel as he gains on me. Fuck, he’s fast. “Woman, your ass better stop when I start talkin’.” I do. I stop and turn around to face him and my head snaps back in surprise.

“Woman?” Who the fuck does he think he’s calling woman?

“I hope woman is biker slang for sweetheart,” I warn him.

“Bitch work better for you?” He grins. A big, fat, happy ass grin breaks out on his stupid face. 

Buck gets no response from me. I turn and continue my journey into town on foot. I’m not real sure why Buck cares where I’m going and who I’m going with. An hour ago he couldn’t wait to get rid of me, and now he’s following me. See, hot and cold. Pick a fucking temperature, man.

My feet leave the ground and the air is squeezed clean out of my lungs when Buck hauls me up and against his chest.

“What the hell?”

“You got a death wish, darlin’?”

“I don’t know, are you planning on killing me?” Death by Buck might be worth it. Slow, painful, and torturous. I might just like that.

My back is smashed into Buck’s chests as he carries me, feet dangling from the ground, towards his bike. He’s grumbling under his breath, but he doesn’t answer me. That’s fine too. Rounding the truck that’s now rolling away, I see three of Buck’s guys watching, all laughing.

“Boys.” Nodding at each one, I give them all a dazzling smile.

“At least I’ll get my ride into town this way,” I grumble back at him. If he wants to carry me, by all means, carry away. I’m not going to fight him.

Setting me on my feet, be turns me towards the bike. “Can’t just prance your fuckin’ ass into town on foot, Lennon.” I can’t? That’s news to me.

“Prance?” I laugh, which Buck doesn’t find funny at all. The giant harry man just used the word prance.

“You ever watch yourself walk?” He snaps at me.

“Well, no. It’s not like I carry a full size mirror in front of me when I walk, dumbass.”

“Well you prance, babe, so like I fuckin’ said, you can’t prance or fuckin’ hitchhike around here.” Prance. I can’t believe that word just came from his mouth again. But seriously, why is he so goddamn bossy.

“How the fuck do you think I got back over to this side of the country? I didn’t fly back here.” Kicking out a leg, I point down at my beat up chucks. “I used my goddamn feet.” Hitchhiking is my preferred method of transportation if there isn’t a ride to hitch or a bus to catch. I figure my own shit out, always.

5 - Hitchhikers and Hobos

Buck

Did I hear her right? I’m not sure if I should be concerned or fucking impressed. I wonder how the fuck she managed that all by her damn self. The tiny little woman alone, out on the open road is a stretch, even for my imagination.

“You hitchhiked all the way here?” I don’t know much about the bitch, but that’s a hell of a trip by herself.

“Yep,” she says proudly. Nothing about that sounds like a good idea. I’m surprised her face didn’t end up on milk cartons with Missing plastered across it, but then again, she seems crazy enough to make it across the country alone, without getting herself killed. She’s just one of those bitches, tough and scary in her own little way.

“Pretty stupid fucking idea, babe.” Shrugging her shoulder, she crosses her arms defensively.

“I’m still alive.” Yeah, thank fuck for that.

Now I’m all for equality in the sexes—women’s rights and all of that bullshit—but come the fuck on. A chick out on the open road alone is stupid and unsafe. I’m pretty sure that’s how all those missing persons /serial killer shows start.

She might be used to hitchhiking and shit when she’s out there floating around in the world alone, but she won’t be doing that shit on my time. I’m not being held responsible for her lack of self-fucking-preservation.

“Get on the bike ‘n I’ll take your goddamn ass into town.” I’ve got shit to do, but chasing her up and down the highway isn’t one of them. Fuck, she needs a babysitter, or better yet, a leash.

“Okay.” She agrees cheerily.

Fucking women.

Crawling on behind me, she wraps herself around me. Setting her chin on my shoulder, she says softly, “See? This would’ve been so much easier if you would’ve just taken me in the first place.”

All of this would be much easier if you weren’t here, digging a hole into my life and planting yourself there.

Firing up the bitch, I throw the kickstand up and try to ignore the broad on the back of my bike, her wandering hands, and her telling me where she thinks I’m going to take her. I’ll take her wherever I goddamn please.

It isn’t easy to block her out with her big tits pressed against my back and her hands drifting closer to my dick. She smells like coconut and cucumber, and it smells fucking good. This would be so much easier if I could just fuck her and get rid of her.

“Shut up and hold on.”

Pulling up in front of a little shop in town, I flip my kickstand down. Holding out my hand, I help Lennon off my bike. Tink’s place is a little shop on the corner of the drag with picture windows displaying a couple gleaming Harleys and shelves showcasing an endless supply of merchandise. It’s been here a fuck of a long time, and it’s a place I visit often.