Page 1 of Rider Daddies (Venom Vultures MC #6)

LUCIA

It’s an emergency. I’m getting married in twenty minutes and can’t find my veil. Everything is already a disaster.

“It’s bad luck,” I say to one of my bridesmaids.

“No, it’s not. You stay here and take a chill pill. I’ll go on a hunt for it.”

I give her a nod and exhale a shaky breath, observing the surroundings. South Lake Tahoe isn’t too shabby of a venue. It’s a beautiful day with crystal clear skies, sugar pine trees spread left right and center.

Everything about today is perfect…except my outfit.

“Ugh.” I gather up my skirts and duck under a floral arrangement. Two people searching for a veil is better than one. I can’t get married without this thing. Isn’t it bad luck?

I swing past a tree and head back toward the venue, beelining for the bridal suite.

Tristan and I have only known one another a year, but everything has been smooth sailing with us. He’s made me realize that the male species aren’t all the same. Not every man has to be a cheating bastard, gallivanting off having affairs like my papa.

My papa is the reason Mamma and I moved to California in the first place.

I was sixteen years old when we flew all the way from Sicily, Italy.

It was a daunting experience, packing up my life and starting it all over again in a new country, but it was the best thing Mamma ever did for us.

She works in Silicon Valley, and I work at a law firm in San Francisco. It’s actually how Tristan and I met.

He was my mentor on the first day, a charming man. He’s always had a way with words and somehow managed to talk me into bed a few days after meeting him. He has an athletic build and a kind face.

To be honest, with him, it’s not really about the sex. That’s not the reason I fell in love with him, anyway. It was his personality. The kind gestures. The flowers every Monday to signify the day of the week we first met.

He calls me beautiful every day and doesn’t have a wandering eye, which is what I want from a man, especially since my own father couldn’t keep it in his pants.

“Honey, where are you going?”

“My veil. I can’t get married without my veil.”

Mamma’s face turns, all of the blood draining away. She gently brings my hand to hers and focuses her eyes on me. This is how she was when she told me Papa was fucking that bitch Gianna from two streets down.

“Mamma?”

“You don’t need the veil.”

“Yes I do, what are you talking?—?”

“You can’t marry Tristan.”

My heart shudders. Mamma and I have a good relationship. It’s been just us two for nine years. We understand each other, which is why I feel cold to the bone that she’s looking at me like this.

A tear forms in the corner of my eye, anxiety pressing in on my stomach. Something is wrong. “Why can’t I marry him? What’s going on?”

She brings her finger up to my eye, wiping the single tear away. “See for yourself.” She gestures behind her. There’s anger in her face now, chin starting to tremble. “Have a look around the back of the bridal suite.”

I lift up my skirts and rush past her, breath running away from me. It catches in my throat, more tears streaming. What the fuck is going on?

Part of my dress snags on a tree branch. I tug it away, ripping the fabric slightly, but the state of my dress isn’t my main concern anymore.

I fall into a run, stumbling over tree roots as I ascend the small hill. The venue is at the top. When I make it, I don’t stop to catch my breath; there’s no time. I run around the back of the venue, into the trees.

My heart stops.

It’s Tristan, locking lips with Willow, one of my bridesmaids.

But not just any bridesmaid.

My best friend of nine years.

She was the first friend I made when I first moved out here to California. She helped me improve my English and everything.

And now they’re too infatuated with each other, too busy slinging their tongues down one another’s throats, to notice me.

Anger courses through my veins, heating my blood. It feels like an alternate reality.

Like a dream.

Is this seriously happening right in front of my eyes?

I look down at my watch.

Ten minutes.

Tristan and I are supposed to be getting married in ten fucking minutes. My heart contracts, pieces of it breaking away. I can’t think about that too much at the moment. Adrenaline thumps through me at a pace far too fast for me to keep up with.

I fold my arms over my chest and clear my throat.

They both stiffen in response, separating. They turn around rigidly.

Willow gasps.

Tristan can’t even look me in the eye.

I launch myself at them, pushing Tristan back into the nearest tree. I pin him up against it, sticking my face in his. It’s a bad idea. I’m so close that I can smell Willow’s perfume on him.

I shove him to the ground, backing off.

“Lucia—?” Willow says.

“ Porca puttana .” I realize she won’t know what this means, so I translate it for her. “Fucking bitch.” The English version doesn’t punch the same.

I tug on her hair. She has it down today, tiny braids running through it. I yank on one with brute force, pulling her to the ground with it. There’s dirt all over her pink dress now. I take a look at the muddy ground and decide to scoop up some of the soil, rubbing dirt into both of their faces.

“There. Finishing touches.”

Tristan clambers up from the ground, his beige tuxedo ruined. “Lucia. Please. Calm down. Let’s talk about this.”

“Calm down?” I scoff. “We were supposed to be getting married in ten minutes, Tristan. Were you even going to bother to show up at the altar?”

“Yes, Lucia, of course. Willow means nothing to me.”

A flicker of disappointment crosses Willow’s face.

Fucking hell.

There’s no way this is real.

I take one look at the pair of them, and then turn around. Disgraceful. My best friend and my fucking husband-to-be. You couldn’t write this shit.

“Lucia?!” he calls again.

“ Porco dio! ” I scream, marching away from them.

Guests gather around, whispered conversations arising. “The wedding is off,” I announce, stomping through the woodland to locate the exit.

I need to get out of here now.

Questions start to drift through the atmosphere, but I can’t answer any of them. I descend the hill and barge into the reception area to steal Tristan’s car keys.

His Corvette will make a decent ride.

I pop the car door and collapse into the driver’s seat, tires screeching as I get the hell away from the wedding venue and Tristan…

And California.

Ten minutes later, I cross the border into Nevada.

I sort of get why Mamma moved when she caught Papa having an affair.

You tend to associate places with people.

Although I still associate Mamma with California, my life this past year has been solely Tristan. I work with him. I share a bed with him every night. Everything about California reminds me of him. He always went on about how proud he was to live in the state, about how he’d never move.

The redwood trees are starting to thin out, the ground becoming paler in color. I’m heading into the desert, which could be a bad idea—but hey, at least it’s not California.

I navigate over to the radio, thumbing random buttons until something turns on. None of the radio channels have any signal. All that plays through the speaker is static.

I hit the wheel. Goddammit. I can’t be alone with my thoughts right now. They’re gonna consume me.

I need music.

I need a distraction.

I pull over onto the side of the road and take out my phone. I forgot to charge it last night because I was too excited about everything. Bad idea. I only have three percent left on my battery.

“Ugh.”

I yank down the glove box, fishing for a charger. There isn’t anything in here but a car manual.

I check my notifications.

Mamma: Running away won’t solve anything.

Mamma: Come back. Let’s go for a spa day.

Mamma: I know you’re hurting, but this is a bad idea.

I poise my fingers over the screen and get ready to text back.

Me: I just need to get away for a while. I’ll be back. My phone is on 3% but I’ll find a charger and give you a call.

Other messages come through from other guests. Everybody knows what happened. Apparently Tulip, the bridesmaid who went looking for my veil, ended up putting her karate skills to use and knocked Tristan unconscious.

I laugh into the screen. That makes me feel satisfied…

But only for a short while.

What the fuck am I supposed to do about work? I can’t go back to the office, not with Tristan there. He’s senior management.

I’ve only been there a year.

Employed by him.

I guess I’ll find something else…

But even the thought of practicing law makes me sick to my stomach. It has his name written all over it. My career, the one thing I wanted to make mine, has been destroyed by a man.

Don’t they love to destroy?

When the battery dies, I toss the phone onto the passenger seat and restart the engine, swerving back onto the road.

I shouldn’t act too surprised. Tristan sticking his tongue down my best friend’s throat, lapping up her spit like a dog, just proves my point.

Men are trash.

They’re all the same. Just when you think they’re not, they throw in a curveball and betray you in the most soul-destroying way. It’s in their nature to be disloyal. Lust always gets the better of them.

Was I not enough for him? We were having sex a few times a week, every time he wanted to.

He didn’t need to do what he did.

But he fucking did it anyway.

I follow the bendy road, the environment starting to become more barren. The desert stretches for miles all around me, as far as I can see.

One long road continues up ahead. I don’t know exactly how I feel about this drive, considering that I only have a quarter tank and I’m heading away from civilization. But people in Nevada must do these drives all the time.

There will be something, somewhere.

In the meantime, I switch to cruise control and sit back, admiring the view. I’m not in California anymore, so there’s no reason for me to think about Tristan.

He wasn’t thinking about me when he was tangling tongues with Willow.

All I need to be concerned about now, is me. I’ll fill up on gas when I find a station, and drive into the night until I feel like I’m tired.

I don’t know what the next few days hold, but I guess that’s life, right? One minute you’re mapping out the rest of our life with a person, the next you find out your fiancé is cheating on you with the best friend you never knew was a whore.

But it’s like the Americans say—sometimes you have to roll with the punches.