Page 12 of Rider Daddies (Venom Vultures MC #6)

LUCIA

Mannaggia.

Trust my ex to enter and make me drier than the Sahara desert.

Want to abstain from sex forever? Tristan’s presence will do it. God, what a fucking bore. I never thought I would see this bastardo’s face again, but the world has pulled the biggest Uno reverse and proved me wrong.

“What the hell…?”

I’m still restricted by the ropes so I can’t turn my face much more and see him, but his shaking voice tells me all I need to know.

“Oh my god…Lucia.” Cue the hyperventilating. “What is going on here?!” His pathetic voice climbs to borderline shrieking. “Get off her. Untie her this instant! What are you doing with that knife?”

I’m glad I don’t need to ask the brothers to lower my skirts. They do it for me as soon as he enters the room, which I’m grateful for. I don’t want this cheater anywhere near me.

“Lucia?!”

Keep repeating my real name, why don’t you?

“Are you okay?!”

“I’m fine,” I drawl.

“No you’re not.”

All I can do is sigh. Once again, he’s telling me how to feel. “Yes, I am. Go back to California.” I cut myself short, another thought springing to mind. “Wait a minute—how did you find me?”

“I tracked your live location using your phone.”

“My phone has been dead.”

I hear knuckles crack. I can’t look up completely, but I see the brothers become tense in front of me, fists clenched at their sides as they silently debate whether or not it would be worth it to punch him.

Why is this such a fucking turn-on?

Until…

“Lucia,” Ryder states.

“Why did you lie to us about your name, Lucia?” Saint asks.

God, blame a girl for trying to protect her identity, why don’t you?

“Untie me.”

The brothers shuffle into action, sawing through rope with the knife. Once free, I hoist myself up and turn to Tristan.

“You’re lying,” I tell him.

“No, I’m?—”

“Just like you were lying about fucking my best friend.” I scrape a piece of hair away from my sweaty face and fold my arms over my chest. “Somehow, you found out where I am, and you’re going to tell me now.”

He looks angry. I mean, seriously? What reason does he have to be angry? If it wasn’t for him, I’d be wearing his wedding ring by now.

The thought turns my stomach.

I definitely dodged a bullet.

I was having so much fun with the biker brothers before Tristan stormed in here like bad news.

Despite the events of the past few days, he looks good. There are no shadows under his eyes. He looks well rested, mousy-brown hair styled away from his face the same way he always used to wear it. He looks incredibly…normal.

Me on the other hand…

Tristan adjusts his stupid Balenciaga suit and walks forward, dress shoes clacking against the wooden floorboards.

Ryder takes a step in, the knife angled at him. “Step any closer and I’ll make sure you walk straight into this knife.”

“Is that a threat?” Tristan scoffs. “Because you really don’t scare me.”

“Okay.” Ryder shrugs. “Thanks for that. It doesn’t make much difference though, does it? The knife is still in my hand.”

Ash tears the knife away from his brother, shoving the weapon into the pocket of his jeans.

He takes a step forward. “Man to man, why don’t you go back to wherever you came from and let us enjoy some time with your ex-fiancée?

She’s not yours anymore, pal.” Damn, Ash really is a giant.

He shadows the man. “I suggest you fuck off and leave us to it.”

I must say, Tristan holds himself well. That must be his insufferable sense of pride coming through. The lawyer title has that effect on people. As soon as the court allows you to start officially practicing the law, you can bet the new graduate will make it their entire personality.

I was the same.

The new shiny status wears off when you actually get into the nitty-gritty.

But unfortunately for Tristan, that reality never hit him.

Being a lawyer is his whole fucking personality, even on the weekends.

I’m just coming to realize this fact now.

Even in the face of three leathered giants twice his height and age, he’s refusing to back down.

Tristan turns to me. “I just wanted to talk.”

“Bit late for that one.”

“I wanted to before, but you ran away.”

“Tongue down my best friend’s throat, Tristan!”

Ryder snorts. “God, he’s such a dumbass.”

This grabs Tristan’s attention. “You wanna say that to my face, grandpa?”

Ryder steals the knife back from Ash’s pocket and lunges forward, sticking the knife right under Tristan’s chin.

My heartbeat goes wild, muscle memory kicking in.

He’s not your boyfriend anymore.

He’s a cheater.

He’s a liar.

He’s all of those things, but I still don’t want to see the man dead.

“Alright. Enough,” I say, blowing out a breath as Ryder shoves Tristan back.

The three of them keep glaring at him and I’m not sure why. Anybody would think that they’re my boyfriends. The brothers have no loyalties to me. A rebound is all this is, nothing more. There’s no need for them to go jumping ship and threatening the guy with a knife.

Tristan might be the king of infidelity and have a whole roster of women lined up, but he’s still a lawyer, my former boss. Physical strengths aside, the power is very much in his hands.

I hitch my arms higher up on my chest. “What did you want to talk about?”

“Us.”

This has to be some kind of practical joke. In what world does he think it’s acceptable to French-kiss another woman the day he’s supposed to be tying a knot with me, and still think that there is an us ?

I jump down from the table. “Let me make this very clear. There is no us .”

“You heard the girl,” Ash says. “Now, I suggest you leave our premises before we decide to kill you.”

Lawyer on the scene!

I turn around and try to telepathically make this clear to the men, gritting my teeth, widening my eyes. All I get back in return is confusion.

Though, I don’t expect them to know what a lawyer is. They seem to dodge law enforcement just fine on their own without needing to pay a specialist.

“What were they doing to you?” Tristan asks.

“I ran out of gas earlier and they helped me refuel.”

“Yet you’re still here.”

“To catch up on some rest.”

“Right…and by ‘rest’ you mean dressing up as a slut and getting tied to a table by three bikers?”

Biker brothers actually. He’s missing out on the most important part.

“Ugh! Tristan! We’re not together anymore. You have no right to barge in here and kick up a fuss.”

“I do when I see that you’re involving yourself with a cult.”

“That’s not?—”

“What it looks like?” He huffs a laugh. “I beg to differ.”

I chew on my lip.

Don’t report this to government officials and we’re square.

He reaches out and grabs my hand. “You’re coming with me.”

“No. You can’t tell me what to do.”

I expect another hot-fired response from the bastardo, but instead he pops a hand into his breast pocket and pulls out a?—

“Absolutely fucking not. I don’t care how many carats it is.”

“You’re mine,” he says.

I tug back my hand, ready to catapult the ring at his face.

But I don’t get the chance.

Ryder grabs Tristan by the hair, dragging him to the door by his literal hair follicles. An agonizing cry rips out of his mouth. I guarantee that still doesn’t hurt nearly enough as me discovering him and Willow.

The commotion rouses others from their bedrooms, a crowd building. I turn around, expecting guns to appear, seeing as though everyone here appears to have an unlimited amount of anger.

The bikers simply look and chuckle, all light entertainment for them.

My stomach churns. If dragging a man by his hair is easy entertainment, I dread to think what gets them belly laughing.

Saint and Ash follow behind for backup, but it seems like Ryder is handling Tristan fine on his own.

“Tell anybody that you were here, and we’ll cut off your dick, slice it thinly and serve it to you in a sandwich like salami,” Ryder says.

“Thanks for the heads-up,” grits Tristan, taking back his hair. He composes himself and has a good look around the place.

I hope he’s not taking a mental photo so he can write this up in a report later. Maybe I’ll have no other option but to take a page out of these bikers’ books and give blackmail a shot.

I was mad when I saw him and Willow on my wedding day. But now I’m seething.

I wanted to be tied up in those ropes all night.

I wanted the brothers to take turns inside of me, each filling me with their cum.

I wanted them to claim my body.

To use me.

To not stop until the life had been fucked out of me.

How dare he storm in here and ruin a good thing?

Clarity comes to me in a sharp, sudden burst. He’s the smallest man in the room, but height doesn’t have anything to do with it now.

Everything about Tristan is too reformed.

Too man-made. He’s an airbrushed version of a man, and I’m sick to death of smelling that artificial Louis Vuitton shit on his skin.

I want something raw. Unfiltered. I want my sheets to smell like gasoline and smoke, and tax evasion.

What did I ever see in this man?

Of course, my emotions can’t be switched off with the flick of a button. I dedicated a piece of my heart to Tristan, so I will always have a soft spot for him.

But right now at this current moment, I don’t know what the fuck I was thinking.

It was my first real job, my first time as a practicing lawyer. Everything was new and exciting and Tristan, with his firm handshakes and smoldering looks, made weirdly intense eye contact and said he would look out for me.

I took that as an invitation into his bed…which wasn’t even anything special.

The only reason I was wet was because I was fucking ovulating.

And the only reason I stayed with him and said yes, both to the girlfriend question and the proposal, was because of these three things: He dressed well, he was socially accepted, and he had a way with words.

Let’s be honest. He never set my pussy on fire.

Hindsight is a wonderful thing.

“Get out of here, Tristan!” I shout. “Don’t come back.”

He looks back at me. “This place isn’t safe.”