Page 8 of Accidentally Kidnapping the Biker

Something small hits the pillow beside me. I glance over and see a condom packet. “I have always respected how prepared the Boy Scouts are,” I chuckle.

“There ain’t no badge for this, sweetheart.”

I let my hands roam over his shoulders while he kisses me again, and I am thoroughly warmed up for the main event. Wylie brushes my nipple with his thumb, and then he trails his fingers south to between my legs. I’m slick for him, and I squeeze my thighs together around his hand.

“Oh, yeah, you’re ready.”

He pinches my pussy, and while I writhe from the shock, he grabs the condom and rolls it on. When Wylie settles betweenmy legs, I feel him nudge at my entrance, and then without hesitation he pushes home.

The stretch burns but feels amazing. I buck my hips and he begins to move. I turn my head, so my mouth is at his ear, and whisper, “Oh, God.” Because he deserves it. All my nerves are on fire, and I already feel my orgasm building. “Too fast,” I gasp.

“This is just to take the edge off,” Wylie says. “We have all night.”

The dam bursts, and I convulse around him. Tremors shake me for a minute afterward, and it’s all I can do to hold on. “I should have kidnapped you when I first came to town.”

Wylie slides out of me. “You’ll have other chances.”

He disappears down the hall to the bathroom. I pull down the comforter and the sheets. When Wylie returns, he prowls up the bed on all fours and drops beside me. This time, there are two condoms on the pillow between us.

I look at them, then at him.

He shrugs and smiles. “After all, I was shot at.”

I grin back. “That’s only fair.”

Chapter 6

Wylie

Ididn’t intend to stay the night, but Kat wrung me dry. She also shocked the hell out of me when I woke up and she was already coming out of the shower. I never sleep that soundly when I’m not at home. Her bra and underwear today are less impressive than last night’s, but that makes sense when she pulls a long-sleeved T-shirt and a pair of heavy corduroy pants out of her closet.

“Good morning, sunshine,” she says brightly. Her hair is in a single ponytail and her face is bare of make-up except for mascara and some pink lipstick: the no-nonsense lawyer from the other day is barely recognizable. “Thanks for last night. It was great. I’m making toaster waffles and bacon for breakfast if you want to stick around.”

I do, but I don’t. What started as strictly payback from a beautiful woman ended up as a fun evening even before we got to the main event. Her sense of humor is sharp, her will is steel, and her body is soft in all the right places. She’s perfect. Kat is the breath of fresh air I need in an existence I hadn’t realized had gone stagnant. She and her friends are bringing new life to Lonesome. They are forming the same kind of ties as the Lost Souls did when we were first drawn here. I can’t imagine a bunchof chicks on bikes, but the same core of truth is there: support, friendship, and passion looking for a useful direction.

I had taken a lot of flak when I asked Bishop about her while he was checking over the van. “She’s a ballbuster, but it’s all good. Until you piss her off. She’s not my type, but she’s a good friend to Violet and Romy.” From him, it is high praise.

Then Kat continues. “If you have any idea why Jefferson Cross pitched a fit at us purchasing an old summer camp, I’ll throw in a cup of coffee. You know him, right? The girls and I can’t figure out what he’s up to. We think that he may be the guy who offered to buy the property back from Romy a few months ago. He’s not the first person to be upset that his parents are spending his inheritance, but lawsuits accusing strangers of that level of elder abuse are practically unheard of. Shooting at me is a whole different level.”

Now I have to stay, because I want to know more. “Did you report it?” I ask.

Kat shakes her head. “I called the police and told them. They told me to come in this morning to file a report. But they also said it was a case of road rage, and since I didn’t get a licence plate and I didn’t recognize the drivers, there wasn’t much they could do. Bishop told me that he didn’t find any bullets in the van on the first pass, so there aren’t even any ballistics to get on file. Like I said, it’s all alleged associates of Jefferson Cross.”

“What about the vehicles?” I ask.

Kat shrugs. “I described the pickup and car, but since more than half the people around here drive pick-ups, gray was not an adequate description. Sometimes the law works against lawyers too.”

I will be calling Moritz as soon as I left. Kat might not know the owner, but I know it belongs to one of Cross’s buddies. If Moritz can’t track it down, we might be able to identify it from the security footage of the bar and grill’s parking lot. Jeffersonand I will be talking soon. I’m nowhere close to being done with Kat, and I don’t want to be dodging snipers every time we get together. “Maybe Cross isn’t thinking about the current value of the property itself. Maybe there is something there from the past or that will be valuable in the future,” I say.

Her eyes light up. “Do you think he might be looking for something? An abandoned gold mine? Airdropped duffel bags full of cocaine gone astray? A secret stash of Pokémon cards that he buried as a kid and is now trying to find?”

That imagery is going to haunt me. “Definitely the last one.” My joke earns me a mug of coffee. It tastes slightly of cinnamon but it’s still palatable. “What are you up to today?”

“I’m going to be on site all day. Violet and I are cleaning out the dining room and kitchen building, the one that will be the classroom. We dropped off all the cleaning supplies yesterday morning. The water and electricity have already been turned on and are ready to go. How about you?”

“Staff meeting at the bar and grill.” I want to know what Jefferson Cross does when he’s in the bar. Who he talks to. Who he avoids. How he pays his bills. Now that I’m paying attention, it’s obvious that the few odd jobs that we throw him are not enough to pay for a brand-new pick-up.

Kat is putting her plate into the sink when her phone blows up with notifications. Then it rings with an incoming video call. “It’s Romy, she says.”

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