Ride or Die 2

by Claire C. Riley

  I checked myself in the mirror, hating everything about what I saw. I was skinny—way too skinny. A diet of alcohol, drugs, and cock hadn’t been particularly healthy for me, though it did accentuate my breasts and ass, making them seem bigger than they were. I was short and boring looking, without a scrap of makeup on my face since I’d left everything I had behind, and I had no intention of going back for any of it either. I didn’t feel like me in any way, but I couldn’t decide if that was a bad thing or not. The old me needed to disappear, and maybe now I could reinvent myself. Be something more than I was.

  I tore my gaze away from the mirror and wandered through the house. There was nothing much to do but wait now, and I had no clue as to what time the prospect was coming over, since Dom had never said, so I made a coffee, put another load of wash in the machine, and waited for a good hour before I heard the sound of a vehicle outside.

  I looked out the window, watching as a man walked toward the door. I presumed he was the prospect that Dom had sent, since there was no reason for anyone else to be knocking on the door. But he also wasn’t wearing a cut, just a pair of jeans and a ratty T-shirt. His hair was curly, and even though it was short, it bounced as he walked. He looked nervous and uncertain when he knocked on the door.

  He did not seem like a Devil’s Highwaymen prospect. Certainly not one of the ones I had previously met.

  “Who is it?” I called through the door.

  “Max. I’m here to take you to the store, or wherever you want to go, I guess.”

  I looked through the window next to the door and watched as he ran a hand through his hair and looked behind him, back toward the truck.

  “How do I know you’re a prospect?” I asked.

  He looked back to the door, catching my stare, and smiled. “Dom sent me,” he said on a shrug.

  “But how do I know that?” I asked, narrowing my eyes. Dom’s words rang in my ears—shit’s dangerous, keep yourself to yourself. “Where’s your cut?”

  “We’re not supposed to wear them right now. Everything’s crazy right now and the Prez is on his way to—”

  “You need to shut your mouth!” I snapped, cutting him off.

  He stared at me, blank-eyed.

  “That’s club business, and it stays club business. Civilians don’t need to know that stuff!”

  His cheeks flamed red. “Shit! Fuck, shitballs!”

  “Just shut up!” I replied firmly. I still didn’t know whether to trust him. He sure wasn’t acting like a prospect, and I wasn’t about to take a chance and get myself into any more trouble. “You need to wear your cut all the time, no matter how hot or cold you are. Jeez, are you knew to this?”

  He rubbed a hand over his head. “Yeah. Only a couple of weeks in. Not looking good, is it?”

  “Not really,” I admitted. “I don’t need anything today, but thanks.”

  “You sure? Dom said—”

  “I said I’m fine,” I cut him off.

  “Okay, well, I’ll be driving past every now and then to keep watch, so if you change your mind, just come out.” He smiled, his embarrassment at almost spilling club secrets disappearing. He turned around and walked back to the truck.

  “Well shit,” I mumbled to myself, all hopes of buying food and some clothes that didn’t make me look like a cheap hooker heading down the driveway.

  I still wasn’t sure if he was really a prospect for the Highwaymen or not, but I couldn’t see any reason why he would lie, either. No one even knew I was there, barring whoever Dom had told. I slid the bolt across the top of the door, just in case, and walked back into the kitchen, hoping that Dom would call again so I could ask if Max was really a prospect or not.

  I poured yet another cup of coffee, wondering what the hell I was going to do with my day now. There wasn’t exactly a lot to do around there, especially since Dom had said not to leave the house unless I had a prospect with me.

  I looked out at the overgrown yard as I drank my coffee, and wondered if being in the backyard would be considered leaving the house. I mean, I was still on the house grounds, technically. And the house was far enough away from any neighbors that no one would see me. There was no way I could spend the day inside, since I’d tried the air-conditioning and found that it didn’t work.

  I kicked off my heels and unlocked the back door before going outside to appraise what needed to be done. It was worse than I first thought, but I liked a challenge, thankfully.

  I placed my coffee mug on the bottom step before wandering over to the small shed beside the house in the hopes of finding some gardening equipment. The lock was rusted shut, meaning Dom either hadn’t been in there in a long time, or perhaps never.

  The day was hot, and growing hotter by the minute, and I tied my hair up on top of my head in a knot before heading back into the house. I couldn’t go shopping, I couldn’t garden, I couldn’t do anything or go anywhere. This was worse than being a prisoner, and I regretted sending the prospect away even more now.

  Back inside, the house was heating up, so I threw open all the windows that I could and sat down in annoyance. It had been a long time since I’d had nothing to do. There was always something, or someone, to do at the Bangers’ clubhouse. And before that, it was just simple survival. That always kept me busy. But now, here, I had lots of free time to do what I wanted with. Yet I couldn’t think of a damn thing.

  I made my way back up the stairs and into my room, opening the closet door and pulling out the dusty sketch pad I had seen in it earlier. It sure didn’t look like Dom’s, and when I opened it, it was filled with comic strip drawings. I smiled, thinking of Marcel, one of Dom’s younger brothers. He had always loved to draw as a kid. I’d bet my last five dollars that this was his. Lucky for me he’d left it behind, I decided. I grabbed it and the small metal tin filled with pencils next to it, and went back down stairs.

  I sat on the back step and flipped the first few pages that had drawings on them, a smile rising to my face as I thought of Marcel. He’d always been interested in art; it was something we’d had in common. Even though he’d only been a little kid back then, I could already see how good he was. And now? Well, now he was even better—going off these few sketches, anyway.

  I picked a pencil from the set and rolled it between my fingers a few times, getting the familiarity back in my hands, and then I hunched over and began to draw.

  Chapter Seven:

  Harlow

  It was past two when I sat up straighter and stretched out my shoulders. I looked down at the sketch I had been drawing and smiled. It had been a long time since I had had the time to just sit and draw and let my mind wander, but it was like riding a bike—you never forgot. My back ached from being hunched over for so long, and sweat was pooled between my breasts, making the material of Dom’s T-shirt cling to my skin.

  I rolled my head from side to side and groaned, shielding my eyes as I looked up at the scorching sky. The day was boiling hot, and it seemed such a waste because I wasn’t even able to sunbathe in it. I stood up and grabbed my apple and the knife I had brought out earlier and started to peel the skin off in one long ring. Almost made it around the full thing. Almost. This little habit was courtesy of my dad. Used to drive Mom nuts, because she said he was cutting the goodness away. She was furious when I took up the habit too.

  I bit into the apple and headed into the kitchen to grab myself a glass of water, downing it in one go before pouring myself a second one and heading back out to the back porch again. The hot was stifling, perspiration fogging the windows despite them being open. Dom really needed to fix the air-conditioning as soon as possible. I looked around the yard before deciding it was okay to pull off my T-shirt, since there were no neighbors close by—and even if there had been, the trees surrounding the property were so high no one would have been able to see in.

  My skin felt hot and sticky as I stripped my body of the too-big T-shirt and threw it onto one of the patio chairs, feeling a lot cooler already, even if I
did look like a slut wearing only a red lacy bra and cutoff shorts. No one could see me, so what did it really matter?

  I stared at the overgrown yard with dismay. I would have loved nothing more than to lay out there and sunbathe for the afternoon, but that wasn’t going to happen anytime soon—not with the long grass and rotting leaves covering the yard. If I could find the key to the shed, maybe there’d be a lawnmower in there so I could cut the lawn and clear everything up? I wasn’t afraid of hard work, but I had a feeling that Dom probably wouldn’t know where the key was.

  I walked down to take a closer look at the lawn, because maybe it wasn’t as bad as I first thought. Perhaps with a blanket thrown over it I could lay down on it. I rubbed the back of my neck with one hand, easing the tightness it held from looking down at a drawing pad all afternoon, the other hand still clutching onto my glass of water.

  Something moved in the grass and I learned down to get a better look, shrieking when a snake uncurled from the bed of rotting leaves and slithered out from the overgrown grass. I took a step back but there wasn’t really anywhere to go, and it struck at me, warning me to back away and making me full-on scream and dart out of its way. My legs hit the first step on the porch and I stumbled, the glass of water tipping all over me and soaking my face and chest. I spluttered, dropping the glass and watching as it smashed on the ground, startling the snake some more and making it hiss, even angrier.

  “Stay still,” a deep voice ordered from the corner of the yard.

  I glanced over slowly, not wanting to make any more sudden movements in case I made the snake lunge for me again. One bite from a copperhead and I’d be seriously ill.

  A man was standing in the corner of the yard, his gun aimed at the snake. He took a step forward, his stance strong and confident. “Don’t move or it might go for you again,” he said, as if I was stupid and didn’t already know.

  “It’s okay,” I said, “I’ve got this.” I reached backwards, grabbing my knife from earlier, my gaze back on the copperhead, who was now flitting its angry glare between me and the man, sensing danger from both of us.

  The man’s mouth twisted and he let out a quick snort. “Let a man handle this, girl. Don’t want you hurtin’ yourself or breaking a nail.”

  The snake hissed as if to agree, and I scowled, taking a step around one side of it. Now that its attention was torn between me and the man, it was much easier to get some distance between us, and I took another step away.

  I raised the knife, aiming for its head, knowing I only had one chance to get this right and not look like an idiot. I let out a slow breath, my hand steady and my stance wide, and then I released the knife, watching as it flew forward and stabbed the copperhead right through its little arrowhead. It writhed and twisted on the ground until its movements became sluggish and it stopped moving altogether.

  “Lucky shot,” the man retorted, putting his gun away.

  I scoffed and rolled my eyes. “No, I told you I had it handled.”

  My chest was heaving, the adrenalin rush making my temperature spike even more, and I shivered as the cold water I’d tipped over myself like an idiot trailed down between my breasts. I grabbed a long stick from beside the house and poked the copperhead to make sure it was dead, thankful when I found it to be because it was a big damned snake. Its tail was brown to match its body, not green-tipped, suggesting it was a juvenile, and it was almost two and a half feet long. Yep, that bite would not have been pleasant. At least Dom wouldn’t have any arguments about cutting the lawn now.

  I used the stick like a hook to lift the snake up off the ground and started toward the kitchen. I hadn’t skinned and eaten a snake in a long time, and right now it seemed like the best idea ever.

  I started up the steps, turning when the man started following me. His steps were heavy and confident, his arrogant swagger showing that he was used to getting his own way. Now this was a biker I could recognize. I didn’t need to see a cut or colors to recognize him. He was nothing like the man from earlier with his awkward, stumbling ways. He was really attractive too, though it was less attractive that he knew it. He was a true alpha male—tall, with broad shoulders, sculpted features, and eyes that gleamed with dark menace. Everything about him screamed that he was used to getting any woman he wanted and he wouldn’t take it too kindly to not getting his own way.

  I stepped into the heated shade of the house, dropping the copperhead down on the kitchen counter.

  “Dom send you?” I asked just to be certain.

  “Somethin’ like that,” he replied.

  He stood in the doorway and I felt his eyes watching my every move. Pulling the knife out of the snakes head I pinched the back of its throat with my fingers and then pierced its neck and beginning to slice right down its body, making sure not to open up the guts but just to cut the skin away from the meat.

  “You know what you’re doing with that, girl?” he asked, and I glanced at him and rolled my eyes. “Take that as a yes,” he chuckled, his gaze watching me intently.

  “Yes, I know what I’m doing—I’m making myself dinner.” My knife reached the snake’s tail, and I quickly swung and chopped off the head of the snake before placing the knife down beside me. I’d need to bury that head later because the venom could still harm you even though the snake was now very much dead. I used my fingers to separate the skin from the flesh as I continued to talk, glad to have the distraction from the man. “I’m guessing you’re one of the Highwaymen that Dom sent to check on me,” I said without looking at him.

  He grunted and came to stand closer, so close I could smell the light musky scent of sweat and oil that all bikers had coming from him. It should have been gross, but on him it wasn’t. Instead I took another lungful of him in, enjoying the tingle he gave me in my stomach and hoping that I wasn’t being too obvious about it.

  I rested my hand back on the knife’s hilt and looked up at him with an anxious frown. “Are you or aren’t you? It’s one or the other.”

  He glowered, looking at me like I was from another planet, and I abruptly looked away, feeling suddenly uncomfortable.

  “Yeah, I’m a Highwayman,” he finally said.

  I nodded and set the skin of the snake to one side, and reached inside the snake and began to pull its guts out, a warning not to mess with me. Men like him didn’t scare me—not anymore. It was the wolves in sheep’s clothing that scared me. The men that acted like they were your best friend, or pretended that they didn’t really want you down on your knees with their cock in your mouths…those were the ones to be wary of. And despite my attraction to this man, there was no doubt he was a wolf in sheep’s clothing. A sexy smile, deep eyes that pulled you in and a mouth that no doubt worked wonders on a woman’s body…but his heart was cold. That much was obvious.

  “That’s fuckin’ hot, girl,” he said, his eyes on me. “Ain’t never met a woman that could do that before.” He gestured to the snake meat in my hands. “My gran loved to barbeque snake all the time. But she’s in a home now so it’s been years since I’ve had it.”

  “There’s a lot I can do that most women can’t,” I replied darkly, not rising to the bait and inviting him for dinner.

  A slow grin rose to his face. “Like knife throwing?”

  I couldn’t stop my own smile from escaping. “Something like that,” I replied proudly, using his own words against him.

  Maybe he wasn’t so bad after all. Dom trusted him enough to send him to look after me. And he was better than the other prospect he’d sent. Maybe I should quit giving him such a hard time, I decided.

  We stared at each other for long seconds before I broke the silence and headed to the fridge. I pulled out two beers, hyperaware of him staring at me but refusing to feel intimidated by him. Though who could really blame him? I thought as I headed toward him, beer in hand. Men like him only ever had one thing on their mind’s, and there I was wearing nothing but a sopping wet lacy red bra and a pair of shorts. I guess this was my doing
and not his.

  I held out a bottle of beer as a peace offering to him. We’d both acted brattish and stubborn, but he had been there to help me, so I should at least try and play nice.

  For Dom’s sake at least.

  Chapter Eight:

  Casa

  Hot.

  That’s the word I would have used to describe Dom’s girl. Standing there in her little tight shorts, her tits wet and glistening in a lacy red bra that I wanted to tear off with my teeth.

  Hot.

  I could also describe her as annoying too, since she was pretending to play hard to get. I wanted to cut to the chase and get on with having my cock buried deep inside of her or her mouth wrapped around it, but clearly she wanted to play the game. I grabbed my junk and rearranged myself, letting her know I was ready to go, and she acted dumb by looking away, like we weren’t going to be doing this. Like she wasn’t fucking interested. But I’d seen the blush in her cheeks, the way her breath hitched and her tits rose and fell harder as I moved closer to her.

  I’d played this game a hundred times with a hundred different girls, and it always ended the same: me, balls-deep in their snatch, or shooting my load down their grateful throats. It was inevitable, but bitches liked the chase. Or at least to pretend that they had the choice to not fuck me. Truth was, they all wanted it.

  Still, she was definitely more street-smart than most girls. Hadn’t seen a beautiful woman like her kill and cut up a copperhead before, and I couldn’t deny that it was hot as fuck. My cock bobbed in agreement. I was beginning to see Dom’s fascination with her.

  She was short, like I liked my women, with shoulder-length red hair, pale skin, a tiny waist, and from the looks of it, perfectly round tits. I never had a type before, but if I did it would be her, for damned sure.