Page 3 of Reaper's Ride
Shit.I need to stop reading spicy romance novels.
Of course, I replied with the only logical thing that made sense. “What’s your name?”
He grinned. This sexy as fuck biker flashed white teeth like a wolf scenting prey. “Pagan.” His head dropped as he hovered above my ear. “I’m staying at The Clown Motel. Room 108.”
My head bobbed in response. Wait. I just nodded like I agreed to some secret hookup in a haunted hotel and planned to ride him wilder than his Harley’s engine.
You’re too horny, Snooki,I told myself. It didn’t change facts.
“See ya soon, darlin’.” He kissed the pulse point beneath my ear and strode off, dropping onto the seat of the prettiest bike I had ever seen. It was dark blue and black, sleek, and the chrome sparkled in the waning afternoon sunshine.
He had parked only a few spaces away from me on the left. My thighs squeezed together as I caught his wink and the promise brimming in his eyes. He watched me before he started the engine and rode away.
That hot as fuck biker never asked my name. I couldn’t decide if that pissed me off, insulted me, or turned me on. Ugh.
“I need a good dicking,” I mumbled to myself as I shut the back of the SUV. My toys just weren’t cutting it anymore. I had needs that weren’t being met.
Was it really such a terrible idea to hook up with a sensual, handsome stranger? Someone who didn’t know me as a club girl. Who didn’t have expectations or heard rumors. Just a guy who wanted to fuck and promised pleasure.
Pagan sure looked like he could give me what I wanted.
I sighed as I drove to the market, picked up the items on the grocery list I made earlier that morning, and stuffed the bags into the full vehicle. Once again behind the wheel, I stared at the sun dropping lower to the horizon, thinking of Pagan.
He wore a cut, which meant he belonged to a club. I caught the Graven Bastards MC logo on the back as he rode away. The GBMC had clubs all over the U.S. There were quite a few nomads, too. It didn’t surprise me that Pagan rode into Tonopah, but it did make me pause and wonder why he didn’t ride to the clubhouse. Why stay in a motel?
The Crossroads was always welcome to members, even the nomads. Was Pagan only passing through? Did he have business that didn’t have anything to do with the GBMC?
It was possible. I’d never met him that I could remember. Had he never visited The Crossroads? That could answer the reason he didn’t ride to the clubhouse right away. Maybe he hadn’t met Grim yet.
I left the parking lot and merged onto the road, turning right as I approached an intersection. The traffic picked up while I was shopping, and the streets were crowded. Tonopah’s rush hour, which wasn’t much when compared to larger cities, congested the area. I idled close to the curb in a long line of cars and waited for the light to turn green.
The rumble of a motorcycle engine caught my attention as I moved forward, and I stopped as the light flipped to red again.Across from me, astride his Harley, Pagan also waited for the light to change. He didn’t notice me yet, glancing at his phone before shoving it back inside his cut.
The light changed again, and I took my foot off the brake. Just as my car inched forward, I noticed movement out of the corner of my left eye. A truck was speeding far too fast toward the intersection, weaving around cars as they moved, pushing its way through to reach the light before it turned red.
Pagan picked up speed on his bike as the truck approached. I knew they would collide. Pagan wasn’t looking at the traffic on his left. He was focused on the road ahead of him as he moved with the traffic.
I slammed on my brakes and threw the car into park, flinging my door open as someone honked at me. I shouted Pagan’s name as I stepped out, and everything seemed to slow down to an agonizing pace. The breath sawing in and out of my lungs. Someone flipping me off as they drove around my stopped car. The screech of tires behind me.
Pagan’s gaze cut to mine. Surprise flitted across his face before he frowned. He still didn’t notice the truck careening toward him. Frantic, I waved my arms and pointed toward danger.
The truck reached the intersection as Pagan’s bike passed through, colliding with the back tire. The impact spun the biker before he was hit a second time and tossed into the air, flipping over as the Harley landed on the hard asphalt. The bike smashed into the corner of the nearest building, dragging its rider across the unforgiving terrain.
The crunch of metal and shattering of glass hit my ears as I screamed. “Pagan!”
Oh, fuck!
Was he alive? Dead?
I rushed toward him, not even pausing to consider the other drivers and vehicles as I pulled my cell from my pocket and called the only person I knew could help.
Nylah answered on the second ring. “Hey, Snooki. I’m at work,” she began.
“I know! I need you! I’m at the intersection of Main and Fifth. There’s been an accident. Someone struck a biker!”
“Shit! Call 9-1-1. I’m on my way!”
She hung up, and I dialed again, blurting the emergency into the phone as I gripped it while dropping to my knees beside Pagan.
