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

LUCIA

I wanted regret. Instead, I wake up with wet thighs.

They’re gonna have to do that again until I feel regret. All I can think about right now is how much I want to?—

“Morning, sweetheart!” The door bursts open, revealing Ryder.

I wink open an eye. This room is too bright and I haven’t properly woken up yet.

After the events of last night, the brothers invited me to stay the night and put me up in one of the spare rooms. It’s a bit of a downgrade.

The wooden walls are peeling and the springs from the mattress were prodding me in the back constantly.

I’m also pretty sure I heard a rat screech at some point, but I suppose it could have been something else.

I sit up on my elbows, shielding a hand over my eye. The window in front of me is east facing, blinding sunlight streaming into the room.

Ryder extends his hand, passing me a mug of something. I take it with caution, sticking my nose into it to give it a sniff. Men can’t be trusted as it is, never mind a whole group of them that ride bikes away from civilization.

The scent of freshly ground coffee hits my nose, weaving its way through my body. God. I’ve been dying for a coffee ever since I hit the road, but I didn’t wanna consume too much liquid on the road in case I needed to pee. You wouldn’t catch me peeing in a bush.

I sip with caution. “Good coffee.”

“Thanks.” Ryder takes a bow. “I made it myself.”

I sit up in the bed and wrap my hands around the mug, surveying Ryder’s face.

He’s cheeky. The kind of guy who would pick “dare” instead of “truth” in a game.

Something about his crooked nose heats my insides, knowing that he probably got that as a result of fighting. He strikes me as the aggressive type.

His hair is completely gray, matching his stone-gray eyes. I look down at his arm, seeing something that I didn’t catch last night. Is that a bullet wound under one of his tattoos? It must have been there a while. The area looks healed, but I can still see where it hit.

Ryder gives me a wolfish smile. “Did you enjoy yourself last night?”

I almost choke on my coffee. The sun has barely risen and I only woke up five minutes ago. Give me a minute.

I don’t really want to give him the satisfaction and say yes, but I had a brilliant night.

I can’t say I’ve ever been fingered in public before by multiple men.

Polyamory has never been my thing, but maybe now I should be open to it.

They’re all brothers, middle-aged, each two years apart from one another. Why is that so hot?

Answer—because I’m unstable at the moment. A day ago, Mamma was fitting me into my wedding dress. Now, I find myself at a motorcycle club, dressed in clothes three sizes too big for me. I can barely keep these sweatpants on my waist, no matter how many times I fold over the band.

“It was different.” I take a sip of coffee.

Ryder flashes me another one of his slanted smiles. “Did you get what you wanted out of it?”

A killer orgasm that almost knocked me unconscious?

“Yes,” I say. “You make a good team.”

“I’m talking about regret.” Ryder narrows his eyes, watching me closely. “Do you regret it?”

“Oh.” I tap my fingers on the mug, jaw hard. Maybe I do regret it, because now I find myself fantasizing about the three of them, wondering when we can arrange another round.

I press my thighs together, trying to alleviate the burn.

Desire has always been a strange thing for me.

Before I met Tristan, I was an avid one-night stand kind of girl.

There were times when all I wanted to do was get railed, so that’s what I would do—head out to the club and treat myself to some pleasure.

Some girls like to let off steam by dancing or going on a shopping trip.

My form of self-care was always a good hookup.

When I met Tristan, all of that changed. It wasn’t so much about the sex. It was more about him, going to bed next to somebody every night, having somebody there to rely on.

Maybe, now that my relationship is in the trash, I’m back to square one…

But there is a voice inside of me telling me that something is different about this time.

Not necessarily bad, but new. An experience unlike any other.

I’m in the phase of my cycle where I shouldn’t be turned on, yet here I am, rubbing my thighs together to try and stop the burning sensation.

This place is trouble. I came here to hydrate and get gas, not to drop my panties for three middle-aged biker brothers.

“Lacey?”

It takes me a moment to realize that I gave them a fucking pseudonym.

“Yeah?”

“Do you regret it?”

“Uh, yes,” I force myself to stay. “Totally regret it. Biggest regret of my life.”

Ryder continues staring at me, the smirk starting to disappear from his face.

Silence stretches between us but our eyes stay connected.

I don’t particularly know what the deal is here, but there must be a reason why these guys are living out in the desert, miles away from civilization.

As a lawyer, I’m technically allowed to raise this issue with government officials, but I don’t want to do that. Not unless they piss me off, anyway.

I don’t feel good about lying to them about my name last night, but I didn’t have much choice.

My career at Gardener Legislation & Co. might be no more since Tristan is senior management there, but there are tons of other law firms. I’m not about to jeopardize my career by getting my name tangled up with outlaw bikers.

So I don’t feel bad about lying.

They lied to me too, about all of this being lawful. Nothing screams legitimacy quite like sharp knives and sex on the tables.

The door flies open, revealing Ash and Saint.

They come to an abrupt stop in the doorway, surveying Ryder and me.

Tension between them is high. They’re definitely competing for me.

Last night, I got the feeling that they wanted me to pick one of them.

But how the fuck am I supposed to do that when they’re all equal amounts of handsome?

I don’t care how greedy it is. I want all three.

“What are you two assholes doing here?” Ryder says, turning around to them.

“We came to check on Lacey,” Ash says. “I’m not surprised you got here first.”

Saint crosses his arms over his broad chest. “We also came to tell you that the morning meeting is about to start.”

I wave them goodbye and watch them all walk out, asses round in tight denim jeans.

As I sit back into the bed, their footsteps fade down the corridor.

I finish the coffee and set the mug on the nightstand, jumping up.

Maybe I should get out of here. Escape while I still can.

Other women were present last night at the party.

Were they here by choice, or did the bikers drug them and force them here?

I wonder if they were once normal women like me with jobs.

My stomach turns. I already lost Tristan, plus the life I had mapped out in my head.

I can’t afford to lose my actual life too.

They have knives. What other weapons do they keep stored here? Rifles? Shotguns?

It’s best that I get out of here, while I still have a choice…

But I don’t want to go. Not yet.

The distant chatter falls silent in the main room as their leader begins his speech. Instead of pushing up the window, making an escape, I take the coffee mug and flip it, pressing it against the wall. I stick my ear next to it, listening.

“…runaway bride from last night will have to remain here.”

“That should give everybody time to have a good go on her.”

There’s a flit of laughter, but it’s quickly stamped out by the scraping of a table leg.

“I’ll chop your fucking hand off and shove it into that hole in your face.”

“Simmer down, gents,” continues the speaker. “You know how it is with outsiders. As innocent as the woman probably is, we can’t be having our clubhouse name getting out onto the streets of Vegas. One slipup is all it takes.”

My pulse increases. Shit. It’s one thing to not want to leave, but another to be told you can’t. I’m about to take the mug away from the wall, but another topic is brought up.

“As for Manual Lombardi, rumor has it he’s still on the loose.”

“We haven’t heard a wink from him in the past six months,” informs another man. “I was under the impression that law enforcement ended up catching him.”

“I know,” says the leader. “I was also under this impression. But I have reason to believe he’s still perusing through the streets of Vegas, making his way out to smaller, isolated towns to areas that are less policed.”

The conversation then moves on to the latest operations.

Positions, etcetera. I listen closely as they talk about fleets.

About other things I don’t understand. They must have struck deals with people.

Clients. People who turn to them for help.

It sounds to me like their main service is helping people to dispose of their dirty laundry.

When the speaker finishes up the meeting, I spring back to my original position on the bed, coffee mug back on the nightstand.

Footsteps in the hall grow louder. God. Why is it that when you need to act casual, your body responds awkwardly?

I throw a stiff leg over the other, posture way straighter than it needs to be.

The door opens again, revealing the brothers.

I give them a smile. Judging by their reactions, I think what I actually give them is a grimace. “Hi.”

Saint frowns. “Are you okay, Lacey?”

“Fine.” I swing my leg back onto the bed. “How was the meeting?”

“I don’t know,” Ash says. “You tell us.”

“Huh?”

Ash gestures to the wall…to the coffee stain rim.

I flick a piece of hair over my shoulder, acting casual.

Ash definitely uses those ocean-blue eyes to his advantage. They stare right through my soul, but I can’t work out if they’re cruel or kind. They turn my stomach either way, taking away my appetite.