Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 74270 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 371(@200wpm)___ 297(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74270 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 371(@200wpm)___ 297(@250wpm)___ 248(@300wpm)
A quiet moment hangs in the air, and then the flag waves on Riptide’s side.
The guys roar in triumph, and I yell with them, waving my hands in the air, caught up in celebrating the win. I wince at Rebel’s grip, batting him lightly on the head. “Hey, you planning on tearing my legs off? I kinda need them.”
He laughs and eases up, still holding me steady. “They’re pretty nice fucking legs, but I think I prefer them attached to the woman.”
“Glad we agree.”
He starts walking, taking me with him.
Mad Dog grins and falls in beside us toward the outside of the crowd. “Riptide’s on his way back. Wanna party with us to celebrate?”
“Not sure I have a choice unless you let me down,” I say with a laugh as I wobble on Rebel’s shoulders. Not that I mind.
We meet Riptide around the back of the racing area. He stopped to talk with another guy who’s gesturing to something on his motorcycle. Racing must be a sweaty business, because Riptide’s got his shirt off and tucked into the back of his jeans. A maze of vibrant tattoos stretches up and down both arms, and wraps around his torso. His hair is held back in a hasty knot with a leather strap.
He looks our way, revealing an angular jaw, deep blue eyes, and a pair of unfairly nice lips. “Nice, you brought my prize. What’s her name?”
Mad Dog handles the introductions. “Melody, meet Riptide. Riptide, this is Melody.”
I wave.
Riptide grins. “I’m fucking starving. Let’s go. You’re in, right, pretty girl?”
I should track down Red, or Uncle Clutch, or even my father, but this is the first time in a long while that I’ve been really enjoying myself. They can wait.
3
MELODY
The bonfire licks at the night sky, sending up showers of sparks every time a bit of wood sputters in the inferno. With the sun gone, the air is cool enough that it feels nice. Music plays from several different directions, a blend of heavy metal, rock, and a thudding dance beat. There’s a constant hum of people talking, laughing, and having a good time. Every once in a while, a bike roars to life.
If either Red or my Dad are looking for me, I haven’t noticed, and right now I’m happy where I am. We claimed a spot on the ground a little ways away from the fire, and I’m using Mad Dog’s leg as a backrest. I lick a spot of barbecue sauce off my finger and throw my last chicken bone into the pile before taking a sip of beer.
“You old enough for that?” Riptide asks.
I side-eye him. “You’re asking now? Do you really care? Or is this your roundabout way of finding out if I’m legal?”
Rebel’s cutting apart an apple with a knife that appeared from nowhere and is probably illegal in at least a few states. He pops a wedge into his mouth and chews. “College girl?”
“Nope,” I answer, popping the P.
Mad Dog shifts. “High school?”
I let my smile grow long enough that they start to look a little nervous. “God, your faces. I’m turning twenty in a couple months. So no, technically I shouldn’t be drinking this.” I raise the bottle and take another swig. “But also no, nobody’s going to haul you off for contributing to the delinquency of a minor. College just isn’t my thing, I guess.”
“So how’d you end up here?” Riptide’s voice is rich and smooth, with just a hint of Southern California. In a different life, I could picture him as a lifeguard on a beach, or with a surfboard under one arm, but he’s too rough for it. His edges are a little too sharp. “You’re too…” He gestures my way, searching for the word. “Cute for a slut.”
I blink. “What did you just say?”
“Relax, baby.” Mad Dog’s fingers trail down onto my shoulder, his calluses rough against my sensitive skin. “It’s what we call the girls who become regulars at the club. Hell, it’s what they call themselves to make a point of who belongs to us and who’s just a tourist.”
“Belongs?”
“Not literally,” he clarifies quickly. “But if a girl enjoys the lifestyle and the benefits of our protection, and the brothers enjoy the benefits of her company… Well, sometimes they stick around for a while and everyone—”
“Benefits?” I suggest.
“Exactly.” He taps a knuckle on the top of my head to emphasize his point.
I roll my eyes and hide my smile behind the beer bottle. “So you’re all in the same club?”
“The Screaming Eagles? Yeah. Best fucking bunch of misfits you could ask for,” Riptide says proudly.
“Are there a lot of members?”
“We’ve got a few guys,” Rebel says with a smirk. “You must not be local.”
I shake my head. “I live a couple hours away. Near Lake City.”
“You’re a little out of your way, then. So what’s your story?” Riptide asks. “This isn’t the sort of party you accidentally wander into.”