Page 123 of The Forgotten

I doubt that it’ll help much if they make me crash. My anxiety is sparking harder as I watch the sun get lower in the sky.

The six motorcyclists are wearing black leather vests that aren’t helping the thumping of my heart. As one of them cruises out in front of me at seventy miles an hour, I realize that they’re surrounding me.

The vest has what appears to be an animal skull wearing goggles on its forehead and red flames exploding on either side. I’m driving in the slower lane, and they’re all around me.

My fear is bleeding away after everything that’s happened in the last couple of days, and in its wake is anger. Who the fuck do they think they are?

Leaning on the horn, I snarl as they begin to slow down, which in turn forces me to as well. Rolling down my window, I get ready to act like a crazy omega. If I’m too much trouble, they’ll leave me alone, right?

“There’s nothing here for you!” I yell. “No car trouble, no valuables, nothing. Now get out of my way!”

“Spunky, huh?” one of them yells at their friends.

“She’s kind of cute in a psycho way too,” another of his little friends snorts.

Well that backfired.

Frustrated, I roll up my window, make sure my car is locked, and try to call Tommy. Unfortunately, this stretch of road has absolutely no signal. My skin crawls as I think of how vulnerable I am right now.

My breathing is becoming reedy, but I’m still angrier than a bull elephant in rut. The fact that I’m thinking about sex has nothing to do with anything, okay?

The men force me into the shoulder, and my frown becomes more of a scowl as I stick my stun gun in the pocket of my leggings. It’s almost impossible to tell there’s a pocket, and my shirt covers it well.

Crossing my arms, I watch as they get off their large motorcycles and surround me. Everything about them is meant to intimidate. Their black t-shirts, leather or jeans that seem to strain against their thick thighs, the black out visors covering their eyes on their helmets, and grim looks.

It doesn’t get any fucking better when they take off their helmets. Some of them have bandanas over their lower faces with ghostly teeth, and I realize I might prefer the helmets. They’re all obscenely gorgeous in that way that’s above everyone.

It’s detached and cruel. I know it well because it’s a look that my brother has perfected. It says they’re above all common courtesy and the world should kiss their feet.

Well, fuck that. I’m tired of bending, scraping, and apologizing for my existence.

Maybe my self proclaimed decision to stop looking like a doormat should have taken a vacation until tomorrow, but it’s too late for that.

I have growly, asshole motorcycle club members that seem to have decided that I’m a new shiny toy. Each one knocks on the windows, shakes the car as I gasp and white knuckle the wheel, all while I glare at their catcalls.

“Go away!” I yell. “I hope you know that every annoying word out of your mouth makes you less of a man in my eyes.”

“Did she just say our cocks were small?” the brunette man standing in front of my hood asks.

Gah, of course he’d think that’s what I was saying.

“I’m not above running you over,” I growl, putting the car into park and revving the engine.

A knife appears in the man’s hand that commented on my estimation of his dick size and I lose my mind. I shove the car into drive and floor it.

Don’t underestimate a girl who doesn’t have shit to lose.

Chapter

Two

WILDER

“Fuck!”I scream, realizing the crazy woman behind the wheel is about to run me over. Jumping onto the hood, I roll up and over it, more worried that she’s going to hit my bike than me.

Everyone around the car shoves it so that the vehicle rocks from side to side and the woman stops just before destroying my bike. We were bored when we saw her driving alone. We’ve been working non stop and that makes us reckless. Now that I’m closer, I can smell her clearly, making my nostrils flare.

The apricot and vanilla scent that’s slipping through the crevices of the doors and windows make my mouth water as I slide off the back of her tiny car. Thank god for the leathers I’m wearing, or the road rash from getting hit by this damn car would be much worse.