Page 2 of Taken By Her Two Savage Bikers
I could use a good stiff drink. Maybe I’d get lucky and they’d serve alcohol at the truck stop diner. That would be ideal. The thought of the delicious burn of alcohol that would help calm my frazzled nerves urged my long, tanned legs to move just a little quicker.
I’d never met my biological parents and my adoptive parents had no idea of who they were, but considering my dark brown hair and skin tone that seemed to be permanently tanned, it was easy to assume that I was either part or fully Latina. My quick temper just worked into the stereotype. Regardless, I never really cared all that much about my heritage. Maybe one of these days I’d do one of those DNA tests just to see if I was correct.
Maybe…
I had parents who were amazing and seemed to love me more than most biological parents of people I knew. My mother used to tell me that many kids were just thrown into parents with no real plan or thought. She insisted that I, on the other hand… I was special since I was chosen. When I had rough days, days very much like today, I tried to remember her words.
I was special.
I was chosen.
Ten minutes into my walk, a relatively new, red, half-ton truck slowed as it approached me from the opposite direction. This wasn’t the best area to be stranded. There weren’t enough cars to deter people – men in particular – from stopping to harass a lone female. I prayed this wasn’t his intention as he pulled over to my side of the road and stopped just before me, blocking my path.
There was a hesitation in my step as I decided to go around him via the passenger side of the vehicle. The window on the passenger side was down as I approached.
“Hey baby! Where you heading? Need a lift?” The southern accent struck me before I even got a glimpse of him.
I didn’t want to look at him, but either way, depending on the type of person he was, ignoring him would either be a great idea or a very, very bad one. Ultimately, I chose to confront the potential danger head on.
Stopping at the open window, I looked in and at the driver, who seemed to be in his mid-thirties, perhaps. Not a bad looking guy – I suppose – though that John Deere ballcap he was wearing, and tight, white t-shirt screamed redneck. There was no one else in the vehicle, although the crew cab had a couple of suitcases on the seat.
“I’m good. Thanks.” I gave him a smile that was just wide enough to be friendly, but not so welcoming as to invite him to further the conversation with me. If he had any common sense, he’d catch the hint and move along. With a nod of the head, I turned and began to walk along the side of the truck.
The good Samaritan put the truck in reverse and lined the window up so he could talk to me again. “I don’t mind. It’s not the safest area to be wandering. Especially for a woman like yourself.”
This time I didn’t look at him. “I’m fine. Thanks. I’m just going down the road.”
“Then hop on in, I can take ya.”
Oh my God this guy was like a fucking dog with a bone! “No thanks.” My senses began to tingle and I could feel the adrenaline begin to fill my veins as the flight-or-fight instinct began to kick in. One thing about spending two years in group homes was that I had learned how to fight right ricky-tick. In those types of places, it was either kill or be killed, figuratively speaking of course. The guy in the truck looked quite fit, but I had the element of surprise on my side if he decided to try something.
Lola Hastings wouldn’t be taken against her will without a fight.
But it didn’t happen. He called after me one last time, but once I was past the tail end of the truck he gave up and sped off, leaving me choking on the dust kicked up by his rear tires in his wake.
“Asshole,” I grumbled. Walking several more feet, I looked over my shoulder and sighed a breath of relief and chuckled to myself. Good; I was just being paranoid for nothing. You could never be to safe though.
By the time I was stepping into the truck stop restaurant, which was more of a rundown bar than restaurant, the night had really taken over and cooled the summer air, giving me a slight chill. Despite my age, I swear I craved heat like a ninety-year-old woman!
Pulling the hair tie from my hair, I made my way to the bar and flashed the bartender a smile. “Hey there,” Leaning my elbows on the countertop I gave him a good flash of my cleavage. “Listen, I’m in a predicament and was hoping you’d be able to help me.”
He gave me an odd look as if he knew me. Maybe he’d seen an ad I was in? The idea made me smile wider, you know, in case he was a fan. “What can I do to help?” He walked over to stand before me as he grabbed a glass from under the bar.
“My car broke down not too far from here; problem is that I was an idiot and left my phone at home. Don’t suppose you could call Triple-A for me?” I chewed at my lower lip, looking up at him through my thick, false lashes.
The bartender gave me another odd look and then gave his head a shake, as if trying to dismiss whatever he was thinking.
“This isn’t the best area for a young woman like yourself.” He put the glass down in front of me and then reached behind him and pulled a cell phone from his back pocket, passing it over to me.
My brow furrowed as I stared at him. He was perhaps my age. Tall and nicely built, wearing a ball cap on backward, but he was cute enough he could pull it off without looking like a douche trying to look younger than he was. “Why’s that?”
He chuckled. “You not knowing why just proves my point. It just isn’t. Would you like something to drink?”
During normal circumstances I wasn’t much of a drinker – alcohol slowed the metabolism and was unnecessary calories. Tonight was an exception. I certainly was craving one during the walk here. After the day I was having I sure as hell deserved it. “Thank you, just a plain old vodka and orange juice please.”
“Wild one, aren’t ya?” He gave me a wink and began to pour, keeping his emerald green eyes focused on me.
Blushing despite myself, I pulled my wallet from my purse, located my AAA member card and dialed the customer service number on the back. “I’m not much of a drinker, but it’s been a rough day, so I think I deserve it.”
