Page 54 of Rider Daddies
I bang my beer on the table and bite my lip—a habit I’ve found myself doing ever since Lucia left.
Even though Grizzly says not to, Ash, Saint and I have been taking it upon ourselves to ride out all day, searching for her. Manual has apparently been targeting smaller communities on the outskirts of Vegas, according to Grizzly’s findings. The past few days, we’ve been riding ourselves to dehydration trying to locate her.
We might’ve crossed the line a few times, but it was all for the greater good.
That’s what I keep telling Saint, who, for the past two days, has been reeling over the cocky nobody we shot for insulting our choice of outfits. He then proceeded to tell us that he knew Manual on a personal level, just to get a rise out of us.
“He needed to be fucking shot,” I tell Saint.
Ash glares at me from across the table.
“He did!” I insist. “He was fucking playing with us.”
“And we’re no closer to finding Lucia,” Ash reminds us.
“Killing for sex has to be a new low.” Saint reaches for his pack of cigarettes and inserts one between his lips. He lights it up and exhales the smoke like a dragon, staring into space. “Why am I feeling so shit?”
“I don’t know,” I say. “It’s not like you pulled the trigger.”
“Not about that.” He waves his hand. “I’m talking about Lucia. She was taken by fucking Manual Lombardi. If society gave celebrity status to criminals, he would basically be on par with Leonardo DiCaprio, Hollywood gold—good at what he does. One of the best in his field.”
“I can’t believe Tristan went as far as marriage to try and own her,” Ash says.
“It’s sickening,” I say. “We should be the only ones claiming Lucia.”
“Woah.” Ash raises a hand. “Steady on. I’m still not all for the idea.”
“Don’t freak out,” Saint says. “It’s notactuallyhappening.”
God, I kinda wish it was.
Three days without my Italian goddess.
It’s starting to test my patience.
I curl my hands around the beer and take a sip, hoping for this medicine to work its way through me. I hoped for the same thing last night, and the night before, but I always end the day the same—staring at the ceiling having flashbacks to when Lucia first stormed in here smelling of exhaust fumes and Italian summer.
I need her.
Why?
She was like a package I never ordered. Something I didn’t know I needed until she made her grand entrance into my life.
A woman has never had such a profound effect on me before. I want to believe that I’m hung up on this because I never got the chance to fuck her, but deep down, I know that isn’t the reason why. Girls have come and gone from the clubhouse. I lay eyes on some, and then they’re gone with the wind.
But I don’t chase the wind.
I’ve never gotten the urge to search every small community in the Vegas vicinity, hoping to find her.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
Saint has been feeling the exact same too.
With Ash, it’s less obvious, since he doesn’t open his mouth unless it’s to tell one of us off. But from the way he was acting around Lucia, I’ll bet he’s also missing her.
“For you three.”
I look up to see Brander throwing a letter onto the table, addressed to us.
