Outlaw's Ride: An MC Romance Carter Steele (if you liked this book TXT) 📖

“Listen.” Wreck sat on the floor next to me. “I know you don’t know me. And I’d be the first asshole to tell you not to trust strange bikers that come to whorehouses after making business deals that’ll get a bunch of people killed for money- Ah hell. I’m fucking shit at this.”

I watched him warily as I slowly covered myself back up with my dress. Whatever else happened tonight it wasn’t going to be sex.

“What I’m trying to say is that this whole thing is really fucked up. I might be able to help you. What the fuck am I saying? Of course it’s fucked up.” Wreck shook his head. “You seem like a nice girl, and you got one hell of an eye. Prettiest damn drawings I think I’ve ever seen.”

I smiled at that. It was small and only caught on one side of my mouth but it was genuinely nice to hear. No one ever complimented me like that before. My tits and ass, sure all the time but never my art.

“How can I help you?” Wreck frowned at my smile or maybe at the sadness behind it. His dark eyes burned as he waited for an answer.

With shaky hands I picked up my pen and paper and started writing.

“Tell Patrick I was the best lay you ever had.” I wrote with a little grin, brushing the water from my eye. I took a moment then I continued to write. “Then please leave and never come back.”

A long silence passed as he read and reread my request.

“Yeah.” Wreck finally let out a low exhale and started rising to his feet. “Alright.”

Before he reached the door, however, I placed a hand on his arm, stopping him. I rushed back to my sketch pad and found a specific drawing. I carefully tore the page out, folded it and handed it to him.

I wanted to thank him. This could’ve gone so many ways and most of them would’ve ended with me in the hospital or worse. Wreck was kind and I wouldn’t forget that. That was also why I needed him to leave.

I didn’t deserve kindness.

3

Wreck

“Up and at em, ladies,” Dunkin called out, kicking bunks as he went down the line. It was two in the morning. Everyone else started stirring, and slowly got to their feet. Everyone except Buck. He grumbled something and rolled back over.

I couldn’t sleep and had been awake for hours when Dunk woke up. At first I was in my bunk looking up birds on my phone trying to figure out which kind Sarah had drawn then I switched over to the couch where there was a small light attached to the wall I could used to see the picture better. I used it to study the drawing Sarah had given me. The sketch was of a swallow in flight over water with its reflection distorted in the ripples of the lake below. I might have been looking at the drawing but it was Sarah I was seeing in my head.

I thought about the way the light had framed her nearly naked body in that tiny room. The curves of her tits, the hemline of her lacy panties, that purple scarf which seemed to glow in contrast to her fair skin, all of it was burned into my memory. For the first time in my life I wished I could draw just to drag that one moment out of my head.

I wasn’t a good guy. I’d done tons of shit I regret now and I was sure I’d do tons more before I was through. The question plagued me for hours. I was just as excited as the other guys when the cattle call was sent out and all the girls came downstairs. So what the fuck happened?

Why didn’t I fuck Sarah when she was throwing herself at me?

Dunkin kicked Buck’s bunk again. Harder this time.

“Fuck! OK! I’m up! I’m up! Christ,” Buck cried, realizing that he wasn’t getting back to sleep.

“Wreck. You good?” Dunk asked, ignoring Buck’s protests and curses.

I nodded to Dunk then clicked off the wall light. It was a handy little thing. Our trailer home really had everything we needed. We’d eventually move into a motel like we always did when we were on mission. The trailer was our home so we’d stash it somewhere safe so we’d always have a place to retreat to. We’d had too many firefights at motels because someone tailed us to ever make that mistake with the trailer. The only reason we weren’t already in a motel six or whatever was because we were broke as fuck after that last job.

Today was going to change all that.

I folded up the picture that Sarah had given me and put it in my vest’s breast pocket.

It’d been two days since I’d seen her and I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her. I spent another night just staring at the picture of the swallow in flight. After some online research I found that in some cultures the swallow represents freedom.

I chalked up my interest in Sarah to my obsessive personality. Whatever I did, good or bad – more often bad –, I always did it one-hundred percent. But this time with her it was different. I didn’t know what to do exactly. She was obviously not in a good place, but she also told me to never come back to the laundromat. I’d been operating outside the law for long enough to know something was going on with that girl. For the first time in a long time I just didn’t know what to do.

At least not yet.

“Give em hell, guys!” Yoga smiled tiredly from his bunk and rolled back over. He stuck up a middle finger at everyone when they started yelling at him. Mac decided Yoga needed another few days off his leg so he was left to guard the trailer. Even if he wasn’t