Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 74078 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 370(@200wpm)___ 296(@250wpm)___ 247(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74078 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 370(@200wpm)___ 296(@250wpm)___ 247(@300wpm)
But they had their own benefits.
Like the fact that I could pull it down a narrow drive between houses that the car had no hope of fitting through.
It was lucky I grew up in this area of the state, knowing all the secret passageways, the roundabout ways of getting from point A to B without having to use main roads. Or any roads at all.
Like this driveway.
You wouldn’t know if you hadn’t spent your youth looking for places to fuck around and drink or get laid that it led into a trail meant for bicycles that all but disappeared behind a line of trees before it opened back up again to another neighborhood.
I didn’t slow down on the path, wanting to put as much space between us and the car as I could before they had a chance of finding us again.
I took a left out of the neighborhood, heading away from the relative safety of Golden Glades and the clubhouse I could find there, knowing that at one point, it was a single road leading all the way out to the clubhouse, and it would be all-too easy for someone to ram into the bike, and send us flying without a single witness around.
Instead, I headed back toward my old stomping ground. The place where Levee, Seeley, and I grew up.
You know… the rougher side of town. Still run largely by rivaling gangs. One of which the guys and I used to scout for when we were kids in a bad area with parents who didn’t have two pennies to rub together, so we needed to make our own money from a young age.
Besides, all we did anyway was hang around outside, none of us wanting to be a part of our living situations. So we figured we might as well get paid to do what we were already doing.
There’d been no hard feelings when we all didn’t officially join the gangs as we got older. A lot of the kids who scouted didn’t want to gangbang, and the gangs knew that.
Seeley had happened upon the bikers first, had been taken in thanks to his contacts that spread far and wide. Levee and I worked odd jobs until Seeley eventually tapped our shoulders to prospect for the club too.
But that extra time meant I still had a better finger on the pulse of the old neighborhood, still knew the areas it was safe and not safe to go. The places you could take your bike and hide out for a bit to let things blow over.
I drove right through one gang territory, a reasonably easy-going crew who was established enough not to worry too much about strangers on their turf, and right into a newer organization’s turf. Being fresh blood in an established area, they were much more aware, more suspicious. They’d never overlook a car chase in their area, let that shit go without intervening.
I happened to have gone to school with several guys in that suspicious crew.
They knew me.
They’d let me pass.
But they’d stop anyone chasing me.
So I drove up and down those streets, pulse-pounding a lot less intensely now, knowing I wasn’t getting pulled over in a place like this. Sure, cops were around. But most were in the hands of the various crews who owned the streets in these parts. They were mostly getting paid to write tickets for running reds or rolling stops. They didn’t stick their noses in obvious organized crime, not wanting to fuck up their income. Or worse.
I slowed when I saw a familiar face, giving him a nod, so he knew it was me. Getting one in return, I picked it up again, but not as fast as when we were actively being chased.
Sensing the shift, the woman behind me removed her arms from my midsection, slid up to my shoulders, then thrust up into the air, letting the humid air wash over her. Her thighs clenched tighter around me to keep herself safe, and I felt an unexpected surge of desire as I heard her let out a sort of triumphant exclamation.
Enjoying that reaction, I pushed the bike just slightly faster, feeling her thighs clench again as she let out a Wooo as I went.
Deciding we were safe, and too fucking curious not to get a look at this woman who essentially hijacked me and included me in her crime—whatever that may have been—and forced me to become her getaway driver, I pulled the bike down an area we used to call Party Row because it was lined in several small bungalows that had been foreclosed upon decades before, and had quickly fallen to shit, and never got purchased because the crime rate in the area turned off even the most daring of investors.
Now, like it had been when we were kids, the area was used for partying and fucking and even drug deals.