Page 20 of Rider Daddies (Venom Vultures MC #6)

Roaring engines fill the atmosphere, smoke flying into the air.

I rev my own engine, Ash and Saint following shortly behind, and then we’re away, cruising through the desert at speed to save what could be the best one-night stand of our lives.

Separately, of course.

I’m unsure what comes after the sex.

I don’t think any of us have thought about that part yet. All I can think about is the hollow feeling in my chest caused by her absence. I don’t have to understand what that means, or go on a deep dive to understand my emotions.

I just have to focus on making myself feel better.

Lucia is how I’m going to get back to feeling like myself.

We race through the desert, putting the rest of the motorcycle clubs out there to shame.

Wind builds, screaming through my ears. I’ve never ridden through the desert this late at night before.

It’s not recommended. Years ago, one of the club members left alone to go out on a desperate bounty hunt.

The next morning, he was found cut up into pieces.

To this day, the club still doesn’t know who attacked him—coyote or human.

I have my bets on a cannibal.

I keep the gun under my jacket pressed into my chest, not wanting to lose it.

In my pants pocket is also a knife. Cutting Manual and Tristan’s bodies up into small, bite-size pieces for the foxes to eat sounds like a really satisfying way to kill them.

Unfortunately, I don’t think we’ll have time on our side if the motel is a fortress where Manual is housing all of his employees.

The only positive about riding at this hour is that everything becomes a blur.

One long series of events—me checking over my shoulder every few minutes to make sure that I’m not being followed, Ash telling us that this probably won’t work, and that we should mentally prepare for a lifetime behind bars, and the wind screaming into my ears, deafening me.

I would’ve almost gone straight past the motel if it wasn’t for my headlights. I bring the bike to a silent stop, parking a few meters away from pedo territory so we can use the element of surprise to our advantage.

“I think I’d rather be buried at a graveyard than here,” Ash says.

“Shut up.” Saint climbs off his bike, cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth. He takes out his gun and points it to the ground, loading it up. “Don’t say another word unless it’s something optimistic.”

We walk across cracked land until we’re outside the gates. I say gates—what I actually mean is a pathetic piece of barbed wire strung across the wall intended to keep people out…or victims in.

I duck down, observing the surroundings before going in for the kill. A gentle breeze blows through the desert, knocking into the metallic sign a short distance away from us that reads “Motel Sunshine.”

Inviting.

Behind that is the motel that looks out onto an abandoned parking lot.

I grimace. “Popular place.”

I’m about to stand up and enter when Ash slaps a hand over my chest, shaking his head. “What made you think they were gonna make this so easy for us?” He gestures to a gap in the wall, providing a secret window into the parking lot.

Two bastards are doing circles around the parking lot.

“Nothing better to do on the weekend,” I whisper, sharing a chuckle with Saint. “Interesting way to get your steps in.”

“He has guards,” Ash says, stating the obvious. “So much for a surprise attack.”

“Ugh, you and your older brother syndrome,” I say, my voice creeping louder. “Come on, let’s get them. Leave this one to me if you’re gonna be such a pussy about it.”

I head off toward the gate.

I’ll show them what a real security guard looks like.

Hopping over the barbed wire, I count a total of four seconds before impulse takes over. My plan was to shoot them before they even registered my presence, but my desire for chaos takes over.

I give a whistle to wake the dogs up.

“That’s it, come toward me.”

The two men charge at me like two adult German shepherds. Before the first one even has time to put up a fight, I’m already cleaning blood off my knife.

His friend is coming at me fast, bouldering over like a storm to give me a piece of his mind. The good thing about preying on two security guards, who have been spinning around in circles all night, is that they’re dizzy.

Sure, I bet they know how to handle an escaped victim. But I can tell that they’ve never gone up against a Venom Vulture club member before.

It takes a second for the angry friend to reach me.

“That’s it, sunshine,” I tell him. “Stick ’em up. Give me all you’ve got.”

And he does. Fucking hell.

I’m down, tasting my own blood on my tongue.

My knife is somewhere on the ground, so I retract my gun instead, pulling it close to my chest, getting ready to fire.

Somebody gets there before me, the second guard’s body suddenly collapsing to the ground.

Ash stands feet shoulder-width apart in front of the barbed wire, gun fixed in his hand. He walks over and offers me a hand. I take it begrudgingly—that kill was supposed to be mine, but I guess he saved my life.

“Fantastic,” Saint says, joining us. “You’ve roused an audience now.”

I extend my vision behind Ash to see girls emerge from their rooms, gowns draped around their malnourished bodies.

I sharpen my eyes, searching for Lucia. For my Italian babe with an ass that won’t quit. So far, I have nothing. I know she’s not here, because if she was, she’d be getting all up in our business like she’s been doing since she stepped into the clubhouse.

“Anyone see her?” Ash asks.

“Nope,” Saint and I say in unison. “Maybe she’s a deep sleeper.”

“Hmph,” Ash says. “Or maybe, we just crashed the dragon’s den like Manual and his buddies were wanting us to do.”

I ignore Ash’s comment and admire my kill for a moment.

The first guard looks like a lump of mashed potato in black clothes with tomato sauce squirted all over him.

I love bringing a knife to a gunfight. Manipulating people’s body parts is one of the most satisfying things to do on this earth—besides sex.

Lucia has uncaged the animal in me.

It’s been years since I acted this violent.

I walk across the yard to retrieve my knife, sticking it back into my pocket. His blood has ruined my new biker gloves, which I’m not happy about. I suppose I’ve done him a favor, really. What sort of life is it to walk around in circles, guarding a motel full of hopeless victims?

I hope he has a better time in the afterlife.

“Nice work, boys,” says a voice, echoing across the parking lot. “You have successfully managed to take out…two of us. Are you waiting for a medal? Is that why you’re still here?”

Why is it that sex pests are always the most confident ones?

I turn around and fold my arms over my chest, watching Manual.

“Nice place,” I say. “Mind if we take a look around?”

“I thought you boys would’ve known better than to start snooping around my part of the desert.”

“You have one of our girls,” Saint says. He looks up to the balconies, taking in all of the victims. “You have lots of men’s girls. How the fuck do you sleep at night?”

“Why don’t you mind your business and let me mind mine?”

“That’s not how this works, pal.” With the gun in my hand, I gesture behind me to his dearly deceased. “What are you going to do with the bodies? Mince them and feed the meat to all of your victims?”

“They need their protein.”

That was a quick-fired response.

I take one more step toward him and shoot him in the arm.

Or so I thought. The bastard lifts it into the air, avoiding impact by a split second.

He might’ve gotten lucky one time.

But I’m fully loaded.

I shoot again, but this time I end up directing the muzzle away from him to shoot a man who thought he could sneak up on me.

More bullets fly through the air. I dive to the ground to dodge them all, rolling against the cement to make it to the other end of the parking lot.

Manual’s men have all come out to play, all twenty-something of them.

Fucking great.

Saint and Ash take out their guns and start firing, hitting some, missing others. I army-crawl on the floor and take out my knife, desperate to thrust it straight through Manual’s leg, making sure he never gets to walk another day again.

That’s when one of his men throws themself on me. I fight underneath his lean grasp, trying to buck my hips and loosen the grip. It’s useless. He takes the knife from me and directs it at my face.

I make eye contact with my attacker.

It’s none other than Tristan.

“It’s such a pleasure to see you again, wife beater.”

He snarls. “Say another word and I’ll cut out your tongue.”

“I dare you,” I say, unable to stop myself from laughing.

“Aren’t you a lawyer? Don’t you have more important business to be taking care of instead of engineering relationships, forcing women to love you?

” I catch his eyes. “I shouldn’t be too harsh.

If I couldn’t get a beautiful woman to love me naturally, I think I’d resort to other, crueler ways too. ”

“I told you to shut the fuck up.”

“Why? Otherwise you’ll cut out my tongue? Go ahead.” I flash him a smile. “I’ll bet you Lucia will still want to fuck me, even as a mute.”

“Will she still want you to fuck her if you don’t have a cock?” He lowers the knife to my groin.

“Oh, I bet you’d love to see my cock, wouldn’t you?

Any excuse to whip it out and have a good suck on it.

” I look down to the knife, watching his skinny hands wrap around the weapon.

“I’d be careful if I was you. You don’t want to spill blood all down your Saint Laurent.

It stains, you know. Betcha didn’t know that…

not like I blame you. You’re too prim and proper to know how to kill someone. ”

Tristan presses me into the ground and growls like his two guard dogs. “Stop fucking talking.”

His skinny body is dragged away from me by one of my brothers before I get to deliver my next line.