Page 44 of Stealing the Biker

“Ready for another round, boys?” Crawl’s flavor of the week, asks.

“Yeah, babe. Top me off.” He mutters, dropping ashes on the felt table.

Hound curses at him, muttering about how he probably can’t even hold his own dick when he takes a piss. Everyone knowsCrawl is an asshole and doesn’t treat the women he picks up all that great. None of them last long with him. This Angie chick is the fifth one I’ve met. There’s probably not a woman over thirty in the tri-state area he hasn’t attempted to fuck.

For the first time in what seems like forever, I’m having a good time despite the nagging thoughts about Kiesha that try to push through. Tonight’s that dance she wanted me to take her to. The one she had originally wanted that football douche to be her date for. I shouldn’t be thinking about her or wondering if she found a date.

I made my choice.

My phone vibrates with a text. Probably Sabrina checking up on me. She’s working her last shift at the gas station back home and I’ve just got off gate duty. I was supposed to call her when my shift ended, but I’ve been bullshitting with these sorry fucks for the past half an hour.

The message is from Kiesha. Shit. I doubt she’d be messaging unless it was important. I tap the notification to open the message. What the fuck?!?

Kiesha’s shirtless and straddling some dude.

A sharp pain twists in my gut. Anger and jealousy fill me.

“What are you looking at?” Trenton glances over my shoulder, but I can’t focus on anything other than what’s on my screen. “Is that who I think it is?”

I stare at the picture of her making out with someone.

“Fuck, man. Did something happen between you two?”

I continue to ignore his questions as I get more messages.

More pictures load. Each one is more erotic than the last. Heat flashes across the back of my neck as I see nothing but red. What the hell is she doing sending me these pictures and better yet, why does the stupid little fuck she’s with look like that Jonesy dickhead?

A video comes next, but I can’t bring myself to watch it.

I check to see if she’s still sharing her location with me. She’s about a twenty-minute drive from where I’m at. I snatch my twenty back off the table. “I’ve gotta go.” I fish my keys out of my pocket and jump into my truck. I dial Kiesha as I start my truck, but she ends me straight to voicemail.

I don’t know what I’m doing. I must be out of my mind chasing after her. If she’s with that prick, I’ll rip his damn hands off for touching what’s mine. Only she’s not mine. She can’t be. Link will kill me and any chance I have of patching into the club.

I hit the gas, breaking the speed limit, not caring that I’ve probably earned a ticket or two as I blow through a stop sign and a traffic light.

If she was trying to get my attention, she’s succeeded. I pull up to the house she’s at having to park down the street. Guess she’s at a party. I don’t bother with the front door. I hop the brick wall to the backyard and there she is, shivering by the hot tub, wrapped in a towel and sitting by the fire pit alone.

“Where’s your friend?” Her head snaps up at the sound of my voice.

“What are you doing here?”

“Got your invitation.”

“I didn’t think he’d really send them or that you’d actually come.”

“You got what you wanted. Where is he?” I growl, clenching my fists.

“He left.”

“You better not be lying to protect him.”

“I’m not, and why do you care what I do or who I do it with?” She glares at me full of defiance, daring me to say something I shouldn’t.

“I don’t.”

She winces at my harsh tone. “Then why are you here?”

“Good fucking question. Get your shit. I’m driving you home.”

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