Bash shrugs and jogs back to the van so he can back it up into the alley and I’m left alone with Pah-Kah. I wonder what my name sounds like coming from her lips.
Give it to me hard-ah, Grin-dah. Fuck me moh, Grin-dah.
“Hey! Are you even listening to me?” I shake my head when Parker punches me in the arm.
My answer is a grin because I’m certain she does not want the real answer to that question.
“Can you take me to the hotel please?” At her question, I look at her suitcase, then at my bike, before raising a brow at her in response. “That’s a no, then?”
“Bash will take you back to the compound. We’ll be right behind you with the bikes just to make sure no one’s following.” Leading her back to the bikes, I realize Boner moved them while I was in the alley saving a damsel who clearly had the situation under control. In my defense, I’m pretty certain he deserved it, although there’s a tiny, sexy, devil on my shoulder reminding me that I know fuck all about who Parker is so I shouldn’t jump to conclusions just yet.
“Why would anyone follow us? There’s no reason for it.” I don’t have time to answer before she veers onto a completely different subject. “Also, I’m not going to the…why do you call it a compound? That’s fuckin’ weird. It sounds like a jail or a psychiatric hospital or something.” She’s looking around now and it feels like she’s not even having a conversation with me, just entertaining herself.
Grabbing my helmet when I see the van pulling out and inching toward us, I turn to her.
“See ya at the loony bin!” With a grin that rivals Jack Torrance fromThe Shining, I pull my helmet on and jump on my bike, making a show of turning the engine on and revving it.
Parker’s not impressed as she walks away without giving me a second thought. I can’t tell, at this point, if she’s playing hard to get or if she’s sending a clear message that she’s not interested.
Shaking my head, I give that thought a mental slap. I’m adorable and hot and my sex appeal is through the roof. I know it, everyone knows it. It’s not vanity when it’s true.
Bash opens the passenger door for Parker and the first thought that crosses my mind is of my ride or die brother floating face down with a love note stapled to the back of his head that reads, “Beloved brother who flirted with the wrong woman.”
Then he jogs back to the driver’s side and gives me a wide grin that has zero malice to it.
“Fuck, I can’t kill you because then I’d miss you.” Obviously, no one hears me, but I like talking to myself. It keeps me company.
Boner is settled and ready, so we let Bash ride out with the van and file out behind him.
It’s nearly one in the morning on a Saturday night, and on race nights, we consider this still early. Except earlier on, the race was cut short because the cops caught wind of it. Fuckers. It was fine. Mac raced and won like she always does. It’s getting boring seeing her rack up all the money without even pretending to share with us.
I’m completely lost in my thoughts when I see the flash of blue and red reflect off the white van.
This is fucking bad.
As the hot head of this group and second only to Psycho in this club, I make an executive decision, consequences be damned.
Swerving left, hard, I twist my wrist and bring the motorcycle full throttle as I ride on the wrong side of the road. See? This is me being welcoming to our British guest. Boner follows suit, probably picking up on my plan. I’d rather do a night in county than twenty in Central Prison. Plus, I’m not a fan of Raleigh. It’s too far from the ocean. And because this wouldn’t be my first rodeo, I’m guessing the great state of North Carolina would offer me a shorter stay with the death penalty as a bonus.
No fucking thank you.
As we’d hoped, the trooper flips on his sirens and starts following us. Passing our turn and waiting for Bash to be long gone, I stand on my seat and pretend I’m Cristo Redentor—that big-ass fucking statue in Rio. When I feel the cop riding my ass, I jump back down and pull over on the shoulder.
Good thing I have my papers on me.
“What the hell’s wrong with you?” I raise my hands and with my index fingers, I point to my helmet. “Yes, take it off.” Boner is right behind me doing the same thing.
“Good evening, officer. How can we be of service?” I try my best not to be a sarcastic asshole but I fail.
“Why d’y’all do that? For once you weren’t even speedin’ until you saw the lights. If I didn’t know better, I’d ask where you’re hidin’ the body.”
Boner chokes on his own spit, coughing behind me like he’s given his first blowjob to a monster cock.
He’d be horrible at it. I once dared him to blow a bottle neck and I thought he was going to suffocate himself.
“Well, I think it’s a reflex, sir. We see lights, we accelerate. Kinda like those dogs.” I snap my fingers once, twice…then snap them again when I’m ready with the name. “Pavlov.”
I know this guy, Deputy Jones, he’s been nice to the club since he’s one of the remaining deputies from the old administration. I decide not to give him too much shit, in part because I don’t hate him, but also because I’ve given enough of my time to the state correctional system.