Old Man's Ride: Dust Bowl Devils MC (9 page)

I waved my gun above the bike’s seat. “You drop yours, asshat!”

Both of their guns lowered at the sound of my voice. “A girl?” the blonde asked the taller guy, “A fucking
girl?
”

“
Let my friend go!” I yelled. I just had to stall them long enough for Gunner to arrive. That was all.

“
I didn’t sign up to shoot no girl,” the blonde guy said to his friend.

“
We’re coming down to talk!” the tall guy called. He left the porch and walked towards the bikes, his blonde friend dragging a struggling Whitney behind him.

“
Don’t come any closer!” I fired into the air. “I will fuck up your bikes beyond belief!”

The tall guy pointed his gun at Whitney. “And I’ll shoot your friend, bitch! Now drop your weapon and get out here!”

Stall stall stall.
I could just about hear engines in the background over the ringing in my ears - that meant that the two guys could definitely hear them coming. They knew they were on limited time.
I just have to convince them not to shoot us.
I rubbed my eyes with my fists, hard. I loosened the reigns on my fear; my breathing came more rapidly. I even worked up a few tears as I stood.

“
Please don’t shoot her,” I said. I held my hands up, allowing the gun to dangle from one. With my voice high-pitched, squeaky, I begged, “Please don’t hurt her. I’m sorry. Take me with you, too, just don’t hurt my friend.” I sniffled.

“
Lower your gun, man,” the blonde said, placing himself between the tall man and Whitney.

The tall guy looked around. listening to the approaching motorcycles and trying to pinpoint their direction. “We’ve got to go,” he said. He pointed at me. “Drop the weapon.” I took my time. I bent and placed it on the ground, shaking as badly as I could manage, whimpering, putting on a real show. I stumbled as I stood, choking out little sobs. He grabbed me by my collar. “Prospect?” he asked with an eyebrow raised. He shook his head. “I knew the Devils had low standards, but Jesus.” He released me with a shove. “On the bike.”
Fuckers don’t know I shot the tires. What the hell did they think I was doing?
He retrieved my gun as he climbed onto the seat in front of me. Whitney shot me a panicked look, but I kept my face screwed up and tearful.

The motorcycle roared to life; they revved their engines and turned their bikes around in the street. I heard the blonde man curse behind us as we circled. “Bitch shot the tires!” he called.

“
Fuck!” The tall guy switched off the bike, right there in the middle of the road. He was sunk and he knew it.

“
Got you, motherfuckers.” I couldn’t resist the dig. It was a truly stupid thing to say, but I hated the scumbags and I couldn’t keep my mouth shut.

“
Let’s run!” the blonde called. He’d already shoved Whitney to the asphalt and had parked his bike on the side of the road, as if the thing still had a chance of escaping unscathed. The Devils would burn it once they had their hands on the thing.

“
And leave our bikes? And the girl? Are you fucking stupid?”

The blonde shrugged. “I’ll be fucking alive!” He took off running. The tall man cursed. He turned and grabbed me around the throat. “I ought to kill you right now,” he snarled.

“
No!” Whitney screamed, “Let her go!”

“
You don’t have time,” I hissed. I could hear the motorcycles rounding a corner somewhere behind me; the look on the Eagle’s face told me that he could see them. He hurled me the ground with a roar.

I hit hard. My head bounced once before I settled, and my vision swam. Three motorcycle went screaming past, presumably chasing after the two Eagles, and one pulled to a stop. I coughed and tried to push myself up, but a wave of dizziness stopped me.

“
Prospect.”
Gunner. Great.
A pair of hands closed on my upper arms and pulled me so I was sitting upright. He crouched in front of me. “Hey.” I could hear shouting up the street. No guns, though. Maybe the guys had surrendered.

“
You got them?” I asked, looking at the ground. “Where’s Whitney?”

“
Hey!” He slapped me. My hand shot up to my cheek, and my eyes locked on his.

“
What the fuck?”

I thought he was going to hit me again as he reached back, and I shrank away. Instead, he brought up a flashlight and shined it in my eyes. “Sorry,” he said, “Need to make sure you’re still with us.”

I rubbed my cheek. “I’m fine. I
was
fine.”

“
Lily! Girl, you are unbelievable! I nearly pissed myself when I heard you behind those bikes!”

I looked up. Whitney stood above us in a bathrobe. Aside from some scrapes on her knees, she looked just fine. “You’re okay?” I asked.

“
Yeah. You showed up just in a time. You’re a madwoman, Lily, I swear to God.”

Gunner waved her away. “Okay, Whitney, back off. She hit her head.”

“
She gonna be okay?”

“
I’m fine.” I stood. Or, I tried to stand. I wobbled on the way up, and Gunner grabbed my elbow. Between the ringing in my ears and the blow to the head, I felt horribly off-balance. Almost drunk, but without the fun and pleasant buzz.

Gunner sighed heavily. “You did good, Prospect,” he said. He sounded like he hated to admit it, but he was admitting it.

“
Thanks,” I said. I looked up the road. The two Eagles had been subdued and were sitting on the curb. “I want my gun back!” I shouted up the street, and immediately regretted it as it exacerbated the pounding in my head. “Fuck.”

“
Okay, girly. Sit back down. You can go home when you can stand.” He helped me take a seat on the curb. “Dad will be here soon.” Again, he sighed, unhappy with the situation but coming to accept it.

“
Thanks, Gunner,” I said. I wasn’t going to forget what he’d done to my face. No way. But I’d still need his vote.
If this doesn’t drag the vote out of him, nothing will.

I realized it, then. I wanted to be a member. I wanted to be a Devil. I could take the good with the bad, because the good meant doing things like this - keeping people like Whitney safe. I was entangled in this life whether I liked it or not. At least I could do something positive with it.

I heard the second group of motorcycles approach, watched the men hop off and remove their helmets. Bill, his VP, and Nomad. I nearly teared up when I saw him rushing towards me, his face drawn, pale with concern. The adrenaline was leaving my body, leaving me vulnerable. He dropped to his knees and I collapsed against his chest with a heavy sigh.

“
She saved the day again, Bill!” I heard Whitney call from the lawn. “She may as well be my guardian angel at this point.”

Bill only grunted as he approached Nomad and I. Then, seeing how we embraced, he grunted again. “Prospect.”

Nomad released me and I sat back and looked up. “Bill.”

“
That was a stupid move, kid.”

“
Would you say that if I was a man, Bill?”

He snorted. “If you were a man, they probably would have just shot you.” He shook his head. “You’ve got a few years of work as a Prospect ahead of you, but you’ve secured a load of votes tonight. I thought this would be a big joke. Hell, I thought it was funny. But now…” he gestured at my jacket. “Do you really want this?”

I looked from him to Nomad and back again. “I do.”

“
All right.” He shoved his hands in his pockets. “I’m not in love with the idea, but you’ll be the first lady Devil in thirty years. Nomad and I will see to it.” Nomad squeezed my hand. “Take her home, old man. And do us a favor? Try not to make her your official old lady before she’s a full member?”

Nomad chuckled. Further down the street, there was a huge
whoosh.
The two Eagle’s motorcycles went up in flames. The Devils cheered around the flaming vehicles. Even from our distance, the flames were hot on my face. I shielded my eyes as I watched.

“
I’ll expect you both at the clubhouse for breakfast,” Bill said as he walked away to join the other men, “We’ll need to make sure everyone’s got their stories straight.”

“
And I’ll want my gun back,” I said.

He aimed a sarcastic little salute at me before turning away.

A wave of exhaustion rolled over me. I buried my hands in Nomad’s white hair and pulled him close. “Take me home?”

“
Of course, honey. I can’t let you sleep, though, I’m sorry. Not after you hit your head.”

I watched the reflection of the flames dancing in his eyes. I kissed him, softly, feeling the heat of the fire echoing in my chest. His eyes were still closed when I sat back. “I’m sure you’ll have no trouble keeping me awake.”

Thanks for reading!

If you liked this story, continue turning the pages to check out another that you may enjoy as well…

* * *

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Bondage Beneath the Big Top

Daisy is a dancer in Maxwell's Spectacular, a traveling carnival in the early 20th century. Arthur is the show's new strongman, and the most handsome one any of the other performers have ever seen. He's a quiet and mysterious man, but when Daisy feels a spark between them, she feels she has no choice but to explore it.

Will the dangers of traveling carnival life come between them? Will her outspoken nature push him away, or will the storm of his desires bring her willingly to her knees?

Warning: This 14,500 word short contains explicit language and graphic adult content, including first time BDSM experiences, bondage, spanking, whipping, and various sex acts between two carnival performers.

Excerpt:

Daisy walked towards their show tent, intending to stretch and practice on the stage while it was free and empty, but her feet carried her beyond the main tent and out amongst the wagons.

She found Arthur’s easily - the tall, red one, that appeared to be sagging on its wheels. Determined to stop being a coward, set aside her silly feelings, and stop avoiding him, she marched up and knocked on the door.

“It’s open.” He didn’t need to raise his voice to be heard - it was booming enough on its own. She stepped inside and shut the door behind her.

Arthur had his own wagon because it would have been impossible to fit another bed inside. There wasn’t even room for a chair, though he had a small table the back, covered in books. His strongman costumes dangled from a curtain rod above it.

He was lying on his back on his bed, reading. The book looked oddly tiny in his huge hands. If she’d stumbled upon the scene at another time, she’d find it almost comical. Now, she straightened her back. He glanced up from the book, then back down.

Not good. He wasn’t happy to see her. “I never properly thanked you for chasing that creep away the other night,” she said.

“You didn’t.”

“Well, I’m thanking you, now.”

He looked up, raised an eyebrow. “You weren’t so grateful then.”

“Well you were rude.” She put her hands on her hips. “Nobody talks to me that way, not ever.”

He closed his book and studied her for a moment, then rose to his feet. He stood directly in front of her, looming so she had to tilt her head back, even lean a little, just to see his face. She stood her ground, but felt the fight leaving her. Suddenly, she felt very small. “What I mean to say is, I... I...” she stammered.

“What you meant to say is, I was right.” He was so close she could smell him - sweat from practicing in the morning, hay from being near the horses, a faint hint of cigar smoke. Her knees trembled. What was wrong with her?

“I wouldn’t say that,” she said, annoyed at herself for sounding less confident, “You made some good points, but-”

“I was right. You made a poor choice to flit out of that tent unescorted, and you brought your friend into danger with you.”

“When you put it like that-”

“You were bad.” He growled the last word, and it sent a thrill through her, straight down between her legs. Again? she thought. How did he manage to have such an effect on her? Who was he, to call her “bad”? Yet in some strange way, it felt right.

“I was bad,” she whispered, eyes locked on his. He leaned forward, planting his palms to either side of her, against the wall and the door. She felt crowded, trapped. Helpless. The huge man was frightening, but not in a "run for your life" way. More like "what is he going to do to me, and please do it now."

“I don’t think you’ve learned your lesson.” The tone of his voice - part threatening, part teasing - made her heart race. His face was so close. His green eyes bore into her, as if seeking something inside of her, something even she couldn’t see.