Page 19 of The Bikers Redemption

Three.

Jumping down, I end up falling on my butt and go to cry out but quickly cover my mouth with my hand, keeping myself from making any noise. Sitting there quietly for a while, I wait to see if I alerted them to me being there. There are no footsteps, so I get up on my feet and place my back against the side of the house, inching myself closer to the front.

There is still talking, but it has quieted down. I chance a glance at them near the corner of the wall and sigh in relief when I find Harley’s arm around Wave as they laugh, walking up to the house. I swear I don’t understand bikers. One minute, they look as if they’re going to kill each other, and then a moment later, they’re laughing.

As soon as I hear the door shut behind them, I run.

I run for my life.

I don’t know where I’m going, but I keep running and don’t look back.

Shit, I should have listened to Olivia and gone to the gym with her because I can’t catch my breath.

Finding a tree, I hide behind it and rest my hands on my knees as I attempt to catch my breath. Looking around, my eyes catch a gas station ahead. That’s it, that’s where I’ll find a phone. I take one last glance to make sure I’m in the clear and run again toward the gas station while looking behind me to ensure Harley’s not on my tail.

My plans change when I notice a man coming out of his house and walking to his BMW parked in his driveway.

Running toward him, his eyes widened when he notices my panic. When I reach him, I can’t get my words together easily. “Please… help… I need a phone.”

“Miss, are you okay?” The look on his face is genuine, and I thank my lucky stars I bumped into him.”

Nodding because I can’t seem to catch my breath, I reply, “No, I’m not. Please get me out of here.” I rest against his car and quickly blurt out, “They kidnapped me. I need you to drive me to my husband. Please… we have little time.”

The friendly-looking man, who appears to be in his fifties, looks behind me. “Who exactly are you running from?”

“Doesn’t matter. Please, can you drive me somewhere if I give you an address? Please, we need to leave now before they find me.”

He nods, then opens the back door, saying, “Quick, get in the back and lie down. I don’t know who you’re running from, but something tells me it’s that biker club that has moved into our town.”

“Thank you,” I say before I jump into the back of the car, lying low to conceal myself. My rescuer gets in the driver’s seat and starts the engine. Feeling the car move forward, my heart slows, hoping I’ve successfully escaped.

“Do you need a doctor?” the man asks.

“No, I’m okay.”

“I’m Bill. What’s your name?”

“Serena.”

“Well, Serena, where can I take you? Do you want to report it? Shall I take you to the police station?”

“No,” I blurt out.

Bill looks at me over his shoulder. “Are you sure? If they did anything to you—”

“They didn’t,” I interrupt. Please, can you drop me off at 253 Lookout Point? My husband is there.”

“Sure, I can do that,” he says as he continues to drive.

“Your husband must be worried about you.”

I don’t reply. I just lie there, praying Harley doesn’t find me.

The sound of motorbikes roar behind us, and I panic.

“That’s them,” I cry out. “They’re behind us, aren’t they?”

“Keep low and don’t move. I can see them in my rearview mirror. They’re indicating to turn, so don’t worry.”

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