Total pages in book: 189
Estimated words: 181808 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 909(@200wpm)___ 727(@250wpm)___ 606(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 181808 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 909(@200wpm)___ 727(@250wpm)___ 606(@300wpm)
When she checked her rearview mirror, she saw a group of motorcycles quickly eating up the distance between them and her.
“Is he for real?” she said aloud to the empty car. Moon couldn’t seriously be following her to Jamestown just because she had refused to answer his call after she texted him where she was headed. The dude had serious control issues. They were going to have a serious discussion once they arrived in Jamestown.
As the motorcycles drew closer, she was able to see some of the men’s faces. None of them looked familiar to her, so she guessed Moon was riding farther behind. She wasn’t concerned until two rode onto the oncoming lane to pass her.
The dangerous maneuver on the two-lane road made her grip her steering wheel when, instead of speeding up to pass her, they rode alongside her for a minute to stare into her car.
Not only did she not recognize them, but their expressions creeped her out.
Was there another motorcycle group other than The Last Riders in Treepoint? She didn’t think they were from the Destructor’s club, either; she had met several of them during her stay with Sex Piston’s parents.
Her heart lurched at seeing an oncoming car as the two motorcycles were still next to hers.
Instinctively, she wanted to swerve off the road to keep herself from becoming involved in a collision if the motorcycle riders didn’t move over in time. The gravel on the side of the road gave her pause, though. Then she thought it would be safer to start braking, praying the motorcycles would use the opportunity to get over.
“Are you insane?” she screamed, terrified.
Wildly, she glanced out her side window, seeing them laughing at her as they finally started passing her to get over. The truck they had been playing chicken with blared its horn as it passed the motorcycles.
With the truck disappearing out of sight around a curve, she was alone on the road once again with the bikers. She was even more certain she had never seen this group of bikers before, and fought down the fear that rose in her throat. She was safe in her car for now, and she planned to stay that way until she reached Jamestown.
Another two riders passed her, also blatantly staring into her car before moving in front of her.
“This is bad.” She reached for her cell phone, about to call Moon, not knowing who else to call in the situation she had found herself in.
Before she could press his number, she saw one of the riders ahead of her raise his hand then hit his brakes.
She dropped the phone instinctively to grab the steering wheel but barely managed to stop the car before plowing into the back of the motorcycles.
Frightened, she watched as more motorcycles came up behind her, caging her in, except for the side of the road. She turned her steering wheel to ease off the road and onto the gravel. Giving the car gas, she tried to move around the motorcycles, only to find the riders maneuvering their bikes over, too.
She bit her bottom lip when she realized she was in a terrible predicament. She started to frantically look for her cell phone. When she found it, the only number she was going to call was 911. At this point, she didn’t care if anyone thought she was overreacting—she was terrified. The cell phone, however, was nowhere to be found.
She unbuckled her seat belt and leaned forward as best as she could to run her hand under the passenger seat in search for her phone.
A tap on her window had her jerking upward again.
A face plastered to the glass made her gasp in fright.
“Whatcha doing?”
His silly grin didn’t ease her tension; it merely heightened her concern.
“Don’t be afraid. We just want to say hi.”
Disgusted when he pressed his pelvis against her window, she wanted to gag at the suggestive way he slid his hips against the glass.
“Go away!” she shouted. “I called the police. They should be here any minute.”
“Ooo, we’re so scared. Aren’t we, Octopus?”
Raucous, jeering male laughter could be heard coming from outside her vehicle. Then taps sounded on her other windows as her car started to be rocked back and forth.
She frantically started looking for her phone again. Her protruding belly prevented her from leaning forward to reach under the seat. She stretched her fingers out, then finally felt the plastic case just as she heard the sound of the back window breaking.
“Go away!” she yelled.
The men took no heed of her shouts.
“Damn, women in Kentucky have no sense of humor,” she heard one man say.
She rose up when she heard a back door opening, and frantically pressed the door lock button again, but it was futile. One of the bikers had gotten into the back seat and was opening the other passenger door to let another man inside before leaning forward to open the front passenger door.