After taking the hottest shower and scrubbing Blake’s taste from my mouth, I take in my reflection. My tiny denim shorts and the tight black vest Florence gave me to wear. The shorts just about cover my ass, and I know how Blake gets when I display my body outside of the club. He won’t be happy with this.
Not that I have time to find a Blake-approved outfit, as I’ve heard him roar at Milton to hurry the fuck up. After calling her to help, Florence rushed my makeup and hair under Milton’s instruction, and I’ll admit, she did a fantastic job under the circumstances. You wouldn’t even think there was anything wrong with me, that I was just an ordinary girl excited to attend her first festival.
As I slip my feet into a pair of knee-high boots and bend to tie the laces, Milton bursts into the bedroom. As always, my heart jumps to my throat whenever I see him, terrified, yet strangely liking his presence. He’s the only one who has no interest in hurting me. I’m just his job, and while I find myself fantasizing it wasn’t, I know this is reality “You ready?”
My forehead creases at the thunder in his eyes. Eyes that make my stomach do somersaults sometimes. He’s angry—something I rarely see. Probably Blake related, or I hope. Maybe he’s mad at me. “Yes.”
Dark eyes rake down my body as they often do, though there’s never a hint of what he’s thinking. I shouldn’t want him to look at me. I’m not sure how old he is, but it’s clear he’s older, and if Blake caught him, he’d be dead in an instant. Turning, he stomps away, and I follow. We head outside, and I shield my eyes with my hand from the sun’s glare I haven’t seen in weeks.
“Took your fucking time,” Blake complains. He’s sat proudly on his silver Harley—his pride and joy. He’s clutching the side of his ribs, expression contorted with pain as he glances over his shoulder to get a better look at me.
He observes my outfit, and my gut twists. “Come here.”
Releasing me, Milton walks over to his bike as I go over to Blake. Once I’m near, his free arm snakes around my waist to pull me onto his monstrosity of a motorcycle. He traps me against the handlebars and sighs. “You look good.”
My eyes briefly connect with Milton’s, but he looks away as Blake massages my thigh. “Milton can’t be killing people where we’re going, babe. You stay with him and keep your fucking trap shut about what went down earlier.”
That surprises me. I’m not sure why Blake wants to keep it a secret that Grady’s dead. Wouldn’t he want to tell the rest of them that he turned his back on them?
I nod, never asking questions, not wanting to.
Pinching my chin between his fingers, he smacks a disgusting kiss on my lips. It’s slow and drawn out at first, eventually hardening. My stomach lurches, wishing he would stop. Finally, he does.
“You’re riding with Milton.” He shoves me off his bike and turns to him. “No stops. I want to get there before nightfall,” Blake orders, putting his helmet on. Milton thrusts a smaller black one into my chest, and I grapple to catch it.
“Put it on,” he says, shoving his own over his head. I put it on, my heart racing at the thought of getting on his bike. After securing the strap under my neck, Blake’s Harley cuts through the courtyard. Gesturing some sign with his hand, he takes off.
“Get on,” Milton demands, swinging his leg over the motorcycle. Apprehensively, I eye the dangerous black machine, my body shivering with nerves.
Stepping forward, I brace my hands against the seat and stretch my leg over the smooth leather padding. Once I’m on it, Milton locks his fingers around the backs of my knees and tugs me forward until I’m against his leather-bound back.
Heat burns my cheeks as he reaches back again, this time taking my arms and wrapping them around his torso. “We’re riding fast,” he warns. “Don’t let go.”
His foot slams down, and the engine roars to life. My teeth chatter from the rumble of the bike, and I’ve barely tightened my grip around him when we suddenly take off.
Oh. My. Fuck.
Wind smacks into my face, stealing every bit of air from my lungs. I cling onto Milton so tightly, he stiffens, like I’m hurting him. I can’t help it. My stomach turns over, and I pinch my eyes shut as he turns a corner sharply. I expect any moment to fall off. I even wait for the impact of the ground.
It doesn’t come, and when I open my eyes, we’re now speeding down the highway, Fair Haven behind us. Milton’s bike thunders as he picks up speed, dodging the rush hour mob. As cars thin out, I spot the sign to Dawlin. Getting braver, I peek over his shoulder. To my surprise, it’s not as bad as I thought it would be. As my sight expands across the freeway, another bike rides in the distance ahead—the shade of silver hard not to recognize like its owner.
I can’t believe my luck. What was supposed to be a weekend away from Blake has turned into one with him. Not to mention the unexpected of going to the place we are. I’ve never been out of Fair Haven in my life.
“How much longer?” I call out, risking talking to Milton, who has said nothing the entire time.
“An hour,” he replies, and my shoulders slump. An hour seems like a long time.
Daylight fades fast, and it feels like more than an hour has passed before we come to the small, dusty town of Dawlin.
The buildings are ancient and not what I expect. Not from how everyone talks about this place like it’s biker paradise. All I see is a dump.
Ahead, Blake takes a turn, and Milton follows. Ten minutes later, I hear something—rock music. Gazing over Milton’s
