Page 15 of The Sins Of The Biker

“Well, I don’t, so let’s get going. I paid for VIP tickets, so we get early access.”

“Cool,” I say, leading her out of my bedroom, only to find my father standing outside my bedroom door.

“Serena, where are you off to?” he asks, peering behind me at Liv.

“Just a book thing. I won’t be long.” Kissing his cheek, I walk past him, followed by Liv.

“What, no boyfriend today? You two are inseparable.”

“No, not today. He’s gone for a few days,” I reply, turning to face him.

“Is that so? Where exactly is he going?”

Why is my father so interested?

Shrugging, I go to reply that I don’t know, but Liv answers, “New York, I think. Well, that’s what I heard my dad say to Sarah.”

My dad smiles. “Well, ladies, enjoy yourselves.”

“We will, Dad. I’ll see you later.”

We head out the front door and drive away in Liv’s black Jeep.

Chapter Seven

HARLEY

The ride to New York was a long one. We stopped for the night at a random motel we found and continued our journey the next morning. We arrived in New York at seven o’clock that night, had a bite to eat at a local diner, then headed down to the dock at nine o’clock.

At nine-thirty, we make out some lights of a boat heading toward us, and as they got closer, I can read the boat’s name—Ocean Cruiser. My father texted to inform me that guns would be delivered by the Ocean Cruiser and the dock number of where the boat would port.

They placed two large locked boxes on the ground, and before I asked for them to be opened, I peered around at my surroundings and question, “Is it safe?”

“Sure,signor, we made sure it was,” a man with slick black hair and a mustache said.

Two other men step off the boat with machine guns in their hands. My hands itch to grab my gun I placed at the back of my jeans, but I decide not to. My dad said I could trust them, and I will until they prove I can’t.

“Your men always carry guns in plain view?” I ask, looking from one man to the other.

“Don’t worry so much. My men need to be armed… you just never know who’s lurking around.”

Giving him a swift nod, I ask, “That all of it?”

He nods. “Yes, fifty AK47s.That the money?”

He peeks at the bag I’m holding in my hand, and I reply, “Yeah, but I want to check out the merchandise first.”

Mr. Mustache smiles wide, revealing a gold front tooth. “Sure, sure.” He turns to the man on his left. “Carlos, open the boxes.”

Carlos walks toward the boxes, squats and places his gun on the ground before he retrieves keys from his pocket and opens the boxes, one by one.

“Slowly,” I say as he opens the lids and places them on the ground.

Checking our surroundings again, I reply, “You sure it’s safe?”

“Si, si,” Mustache says. “We pay big money for the police and water patrol to turn their eyes on such a night as this.”

I nod back to Carlos, hinting at him to continue. Then, taking a couple of steps closer to the boxes, I look inside.

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