Page 57 of Rider Daddies
I keep the gun under my jacket pressed into my chest, not wanting to lose it. In my pants pocket is also a knife. Cutting Manual and Tristan’s bodies up into small, bite-size pieces for the foxes to eat sounds like a really satisfying way to kill them. Unfortunately, I don’t think we’ll have time on our side if the motel is a fortress where Manual is housing all of his employees.
The only positive about riding at this hour is that everything becomes a blur. One long series of events—me checking over my shoulder every few minutes to make sure that I’m not beingfollowed, Ash telling us that this probably won’t work, and that we should mentally prepare for a lifetime behind bars, and the wind screaming into my ears, deafening me.
I would’ve almost gone straight past the motel if it wasn’t for my headlights. I bring the bike to a silent stop, parking a few meters away from pedo territory so we can use the element of surprise to our advantage.
“I think I’d rather be buried at a graveyard than here,” Ash says.
“Shut up.” Saint climbs off his bike, cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth. He takes out his gun and points it to the ground, loading it up. “Don’t say another word unless it’s something optimistic.”
We walk across cracked land until we’re outside the gates. I say gates—what I actually mean is a pathetic piece of barbed wire strung across the wall intended to keep people out…or victims in.
I duck down, observing the surroundings before going in for the kill. A gentle breeze blows through the desert, knocking into the metallic sign a short distance away from us that reads“Motel Sunshine.”
Inviting.
Behind that is the motel that looks out onto an abandoned parking lot.
I grimace. “Popular place.”
I’m about to stand up and enter when Ash slaps a hand over my chest, shaking his head. “What made you think they were gonna make this so easy for us?” He gestures to a gap in the wall, providing a secret window into the parking lot.
Two bastards are doing circles around the parking lot.
“Nothing better to do on the weekend,” I whisper, sharing a chuckle with Saint. “Interesting way to get your steps in.”
“He has guards,” Ash says, stating the obvious. “So much for a surprise attack.”
“Ugh, you and your older brother syndrome,” I say, my voice creeping louder. “Come on, let’s get them. Leave this one to me if you’re gonna be such a pussy about it.”
I head off toward the gate.
I’ll show them what a real security guard looks like.
Hopping over the barbed wire, I count a total of four seconds before impulse takes over. My plan was to shoot them before they even registered my presence, but my desire for chaos takes over.
I give a whistle to wake the dogs up.
“That’s it, come toward me.”
The two men charge at me like two adult German shepherds. Before the first one even has time to put up a fight, I’m already cleaning blood off my knife.
His friend is coming at me fast, bouldering over like a storm to give me a piece of his mind. The good thing about preying on two security guards, who have been spinning around in circles all night, is that they’re dizzy.
Sure, I bet they know how to handle an escaped victim. But I can tell that they’ve never gone up against a Venom Vulture club member before.
It takes a second for the angry friend to reach me.
“That’s it, sunshine,” I tell him. “Stick ’em up. Give me all you’ve got.”
And he does. Fucking hell.
I’m down, tasting my own blood on my tongue.
My knife is somewhere on the ground, so I retract my gun instead, pulling it close to my chest, getting ready to fire.
Somebody gets there before me, the second guard’s body suddenly collapsing to the ground.
Ash stands feet shoulder-width apart in front of the barbed wire, gun fixed in his hand. He walks over and offers me a hand. I take it begrudgingly—that kill was supposed to be mine, but I guess he saved my life.
