Her Wild Ride: An addictive, steamy biker MC romance suspense novel

by Van Fleet, Heather

  She nodded against me.

  We wound up driving another hour until we were just south of Vegas. Found a cheap motel that sat along a busy street. It reminded me of something out of a B-grade horror movie. Summer didn’t seem to mind, though. But she did follow me around like a lost puppy, her head hanging, and doing as I asked, no questions. It bothered me seeing her so submissive; tight-lipped and sad. Maybe she was scared. Because, God help me, if she was regretting this trip, what’d happened between us, I’d never forgive myself.

  “Let’s grab something to eat.” I pointed toward the restaurant next door to the motel as she unlocked our room. She nodded but asked to shower first. I didn’t argue, knowing what girls were like when it came to hygiene. Emily had been crazy about showering twice a day.

  I changed my clothes when she got in, then headed into the main lobby to grab some ice. After I got back to the room, she was sitting on the edge of the bed, dressed in a black, flowy skirt and a bright blue tank that hugged her chest. My dick immediately hardened, loving the view, but I couldn’t touch her. Not now.

  Side-by-side, we walked next door to the restaurant. It was a mom-and-pop type barbeque joint. The kind with a pig on the front sign wearing a bib. He was smiling with a fork in one hand and a knife in the other, sitting on top of a pot that was on a stove. It was fucking ridiculous and ironic but made me laugh all the same.

  “What’s so funny?” Summer asked, looking at the sign.

  “Poor pig has got no idea what he’s getting into.”

  She didn’t laugh like I thought she would. Instead, she whispered, “I can relate.” Then tugged open the doors, leaving me behind.

  Twenty-Four

  Summer

  This was all becoming entirely too comfortable and familiar. Diners, hotels, late nights wrapped in each other’s arms… For nearly five days now I’d become this disoriented, crazy loon with lust and desire complicating the fear and the facts of what was really going on. And I hated it.

  We scanned the menu in silence, ate in silence, and then when we walked away from the restaurant, the only thing I wanted to do was silently go to sleep. Niyol tried making small talk, but I could tell he was only doing it to get through dinner. I always answered him, but my words were short and curt. After a while, I could feel his mood changing, the tension of the night eating away at his nerves. For a guy who liked silence, he sure didn’t act like it anymore.

  By the time we made it to the front door of our motel, I realized just how badly the two of us needed some time apart, even if it was only for the night.

  “Maybe it’s best if I get my own room tonight,” I said, secretly wishing he’d beg me to stay. I wasn’t an idiot. I knew what had happened between us the last few days wasn’t something we could continue to keep doing. But one more night, that was all I wanted. A conclusion to this madness we’d been living through.

  Or maybe, just maybe, he’d tell me he didn’t want to go to California after all, as crazy as that thought was. That what the two of us had shared during this trip was something worth exploring. I shouldn’t have been silently pleading for this, crying on the inside for a chance. But there I was, doing just that.

  Niyol stood behind me at the door, a dark force that warmed my back, even if he was being cold.

  “Not happening. Not with the rogues out there.” He touched my hip, the sensation burning through my tank top as he finished. “I’ll sleep on the floor if you have a problem sharing a bed.”

  I dropped my hand away from the knob and let it hang by my side as I turned to face him. “No, it’s not that. I just… I need to be alone for a while.”

  He held my stare, his emotions shifting from one spectrum to the other. Hurt, fear, sadness, only to end in resolve.

  “Fine. Whatever you need. Just… don’t answer the door to nobody but me.” He pulled that knife out of his pants. The one I’d finally gotten used to, now that he was open with it. After he set it on the dresser, he put his boots back on. “Gonna go to the bar about a block away. There are eyes in the lot, watching our door.”

  “Who?” I stiffened.

  “A couple of guys from Archer’s brother’s club showed up earlier. Gonna trail us the rest of the way to San Diego.”

  “Are they bikers too?” I asked.

  He nodded. “Yeah. A brother club.”

  “Okay.” I turned back around, eyes blurring with unshed tears as I struggled with the zipper of my bag.

  After tomorrow, Niyol and I would be going our separate ways, and the reality was hitting me way too hard. So hard, I wanted nothing more than to keep as much distance between us as I could. Both physically and mentally.

  Out of the blue, he came up behind me, his hand on my waist again, his lips pressed to my ear in a whisper. I shut my eyes, holding my breath.

  “Summer… Make me stay. Tell me you need me.”

  Tears fell. Wet, warm, painful. But the words wouldn’t come. Not when I knew the regrets would ultimately follow—for the both of us. Not just me.

  “I-I can’t.”

  Slowly, he dropped his hands away, his boots echoing on the floor after that, noisy with his exit. A warm wind brushed against my neck, and my hair flapped around my face like wildflowers in a breeze when the door opened. I waited for it to shut, holding my breath once more. Instead of a slam, though, all I heard was the sound of his voice instead.

  “You’ve got every right to hate me, Summer.”

  I blinked, not expecting those words. Surprise had me turning to look at him.

  “I don’t hate you.” I never could. Not anymore. “It’s just that you pull me close, then you push me away. One second I think we’re barely acquaintances, then the next, it feels like so much more.” Too much. “I’m really confused. And tired…” I smoothed a hand over my scratchy throat. “I’m so tired.”

  “Tired of me?” He looked to the floor, rubbing at the back of his neck.

  “No.” I shook my head, my voice uneven, desperate. “I’m tired of not being someone’s everything.”

  He lifted his head, searching my face, lips parted, eyes wide.

  It was selfish of me to say, but it was also the truth. I’d been my father’s second in life, the first being his job. I’d been Landon’s second as well, but to another woman. And in a way, I’d also been Emily’s second to her fiancé. I didn’t want attention on me all the time, I didn’t even want pure devotion. I just wanted someone who would treat me like I was worthy of being a priority every once in a while.

  His answer was like a punch to the gut. One I needed desperately to hear, no matter how much it hurt.

  “I can’t explain what’s going on, but I do get it. Just know this…” He paused, taking a heavy breath. “I’ll never, ever regret a second we’ve spent together.”

  I nodded, not bothering to wipe my tears away. More than anything, I wanted to tell him to stay. I did. But knowing tonight would be our last night together would hurt me too much to do so. Which was why I stayed silent and let him go. It was easier that way. For the both of us. Letting Niyol go was the right thing to do, even if it was the hardest.

  Twenty-Five

  Niyol

  I revved the engine at a stoplight, heart thundering in my ears. Next to me was another bike, smaller than the one I was on, but faster. I recognized the RD patch out of the corner of my eye when I’d stormed out of the motel room. Locust, his club name, was patched across the top of his cut on the front, just below the one-percenter patch. On the back was a giant red dragon in the middle, with the words Las Vegas written above. It was all the proof I needed that Archer’s Vegas buddy had come through after all.

  I didn’t deserve him. Nor did I deserve Slade. But damn did I want to. Just like I wanted to deserve the woman I’d just left behind.

  A horn honked from my left, loud in my ears. I growled through the madness in my head, feeling the heat of the car’s bumper as I swerved around it. I pushed the visor up and over my face, soaking in the night ai
r, then dropped my chin and squeezed the handle tighter, needing the rush. The speed. Anything to clear my mind.

  I lost the guy following me after a few turns, the town we’d landed in for the night bigger than I’d thought. He didn’t need to follow me anyhow. I was fine. And even if I wasn’t, maybe karma would come for me after all.

  I gunned it harder, taking a sharp right, heading down an empty street, then veering into an alley. Could’ve gone faster, if it weren’t for that stupid fucking cart attached. But I’d take what speed I could get.

  Around a dumpster, through a tight hole, I took off faster, eyes narrowed ahead.

  Fuck me. Not only did I not deserve Summer, but I didn’t deserve the club. The place where I was meant to be all along. I didn’t deserve their forgiveness, even though they were offering it up, but I was damn glad I’d been offered.

  I slammed a fist against the handles, swerving a little at my realization.

  What the hell would I have done in Cali anyway? Maya had a job, a life there without me. Staying with her would fuck up her world, no doubt. Unlike me, she’d been able to live without the club, thanks to her mom and Flick. Sure, she’d always be a part of it, would understand what I’d be missing if I stayed in Cali, but she had a chance to be her own person, whereas I didn’t.

  Nor did I want to anymore.

  I belonged with Slade and Archer.

  I belonged on a bike.

  And most of all, I belonged back in Rockford… with my brothers, with the cut on my back too, even if that was the only thing I’d ever do again. I’d figure out who sent that fucking letter. Take care of shit and get the RDs in order. I could do it.

  I wanted to do it.

  Sighing to myself, I slowed my bike until eventually I stopped at a stop sign. It was quiet, other than my engine, and I took in the dark streets as I dropped one booted foot to the cement.

  Summer, though.

  Sweet, sweet Summer.

  I hadn’t expected her. But now she was all I could think about. Was it because she was forbidden? My stepsister’s best friend? Was it because she wasn’t part of my world? I needed to go back and face her, no matter what my reasoning was. Tell her the truth once and for all. Why I wanted to finish this trip—with her.

  I revved the engine and went to pull away, intending to head back to the hotel. Face the music once and for all. But a pair of headlights flickered on ahead of me. A car sat along the side of the road, parked about twenty yards on the right side. Slowly, it pulled away from the curb, inching closer, a snail’s pace. My eyes narrowed as I watched it. Uneasiness drifted through my veins, urging me to go, to run back to the motel, find the Vegas guy I’d outrun. I reached for my phone, intending to call Summer, until the car’s engine grew louder, more threatening.

  Fuck. This wasn’t good. I needed to get out of there. Sure as hell didn’t have time to call anyone either, which left me with one option.

  The car’s lights flickered on, blinding me. I lifted an arm, held it over my eyes, trying to see inside the old Buick. But the windshield was tinted. My head had been too fucked up to care whether I lived or died, that’s why I’d been so unaware of my surroundings. Idiot fucking mistakes I knew better than to make.

  Trying not to look like I gave a shit, I pulled away, keeping at the speed limit. I felt them behind me a minute later, following so close the hum of their bumper vibrated against my bike tires.

  “Motherfuckers.” I revved the gas, coming up on a busier street, faster, pushing forward, I raced around a car, then another, but they kept pace.

  And then I heard it.

  Felt it.

  A sharp shot in my back, blood, poison… death.

  Blackness.

  Twenty-Six

  Summer

  I lifted my head off the pillow, eyes swollen as I turned to look at the clock on the bedside table. Three-twenty in the morning and, from the looks of things, Niyol hadn’t been back yet.

  Earlier, by the time eleven o’clock rolled around, I had attempted to call his phone at least a dozen times, even got the guts to talk to the two guys out front on bikes. When I saw their patches on the back, then saw the Las Vegas written above the dragon, I knew they were safe. There for us, most of all. Guy one, who’d followed Niyol, said he lost him around nine, figured he needed to be alone. Unfortunately, he hadn’t come back after all.

  I thought maybe Niyol was giving me the space I asked for, so I’d settled into bed and told myself not to worry. It didn’t work. I had been ridiculously childish about the entire situation, feelings or not. We were adults. The two of us could have easily shared a hotel room and not let our impulsions get in the way of our goals. Some good that did me now.

  Somewhere between eleven-thirty and twelve, I must have fallen asleep, too tired with the idea of figuring out what I should do to fix the mess we’d gotten ourselves in. I didn’t have the slightest idea where to look for him now though. Maybe he’d slept outside the door, or even in the lobby?

  After I grabbed my shorts off the floor, I slipped out of bed, and got dressed. For my best friend’s sake, I’d scour the town to find him if I had to.

  Nervous energy radiated through me as I walked outside and headed to the lobby. Weirdly enough, both of the Las Vegas bikers were gone. I tried not to let it bother me, but when I reached the parking lot where Niyol’s spot sat empty, fear snaked through me in the shape of a shudder.

  I folded my arms like they were a shield, gaze darting left and right from nerves. The outside of the hotel was apocalyptic-quiet at this time of night, with the m-light flickering off the distant motel sign, making it read more like otel. Anyone of those rogues could be out there, ready to strike if they wanted to. I was an open target, even if Niyol said they wouldn’t likely touch me.

  Regardless, the idea still kept me on edge as I made my way toward the front lobby. Pure adrenaline alone was the only fuel getting me there.

  The second I stepped into the front lobby, I knew something was off. And it had everything to do with the two police officers standing near the front desk. I froze, eyeing the area, looking for Ny, only for the receptionist to look over their shoulders and point a finger at me.

  “God, Niyol. What’d you do?” I sighed to myself, picking up speed to meet the officers halfway.

  “Do you know a Niyol Lattimore?” the taller officer asked me.

  “I do. He’s my friend. Is everything okay, officer?”

  “He’s been in an accident.”

  “An accident?” My chest grew cold, my knees wobbly.

  “Mr. Lattimore was shot this evening while riding on his motorcycle. He’s in the hospital, unconscious at the moment, but stable. We found a key card for this hotel in his wallet.” the second officer said, voice grave. “We’ve been trying to get in touch with someone who might know him, just in case.”

  I pressed my hand over my mouth, stifling a sob. “Can you take me to him? Please? I-I don’t know where the hospital is, and he’s my ride…”

  I reached into my pocket for my cell, cringing when I wrapped a hand around it. Emily would be in the middle of the Atlantic somewhere, and his stepmom was likely in bed. I’d call them in the morning, let them know what was going on. There was no need to alarm them until I knew the full extent of his injuries.

  “Sure, we can take you, Ma’am.” Officer number one smiled politely.

  Twenty minutes later we were in the parking lot of a hospital, the red emergency sign brightening the dark, morning sky. The scent of cleaning supplies had my stomach churning in knots as I stepped through the entrance.

  There was no doubt in my mind that those rogue members of the Red Dragons had slipped past Niyol’s friends. They wanted Niyol dead and wouldn’t stop until it happened.

  Where are his supposed brothers now? I snarled at the thought and shook my head in disgust.

  One of the police officers stayed in his car, while the other stuck with me. He was young, probably mid-thirties.

  “Are
you all right, Miss?” he asked, eventually leading me toward the elevator.

  No. I wasn’t okay. My hands wouldn’t stop shaking and my head was killing me. Basically, I was in my own version of hell.

  After reassuring the officer that I was fine, I walked toward Niyol’s room, telling the nurses I was his fiancée. Thankfully, they didn’t question my sincerity, just led me toward his room. They explained that he was heavily medicated for pain—he’d been shot in the back of his left shoulder. They also told me that he’d lost consciousness but didn’t have any bleeding in the brain or a concussion for that matter. They weren’t sure why he hadn’t woken up, which didn’t help with my unease in the least. His one saving grace? The fact that he’d been wearing that helmet he hated so much.

  When they shut the door behind me, I covered my mouth at the view to hide my gasp.

  The drip of an IV echoed off the whitewashed walls, along with the heart monitor. I inhaled through my sudden tears, taking in the scent of man and hospital—a smell that had me breaking out in a cold sweat.

  Niyol’s helmet and clothes were in a bag at the foot of his bed, and once I composed myself enough, I grabbed them and began searching through his pants for his cell phone.

  Twenty-seven missed calls. Twelve from me, the rest from Slade and Archer.

  Swallowing hard, I tucked it into a pocket, before I finally chanced a look at his face through watery eyes. I sucked in a breath at what I saw. Though the lights were off, I could still make out the shadow of his profile—asleep and so peaceful, you wouldn’t think he’d been through what he had. Yet my chest tightened the closer I got to the head of his bed. He looked like death. It was terrible, unnerving, and it made it that much easier for me to make my decision once and for all.

  “I’ll be back,” I whispered, before placing a kiss on his forehead.

  Out in the hall, I searched through his contacts, finding her name. It rang three times, and when she picked up, I asked on a shaky breath, “Is this Maya?”