The Stolen Girl by Samantha Westlake Read Free Book Online Page B

starting to pry my chilled hands free from Roads’ leather jacket, Slammer came storming up to the bike. He barely spared a glance towards me, however. Once he had confirmed that I was physically present, nothing else about me seemed to matter - least of all my discomfort. “Get her inside, quickly, before anyone in the house gets too good of a look and puts two and two together,” he ordered Roads. “We’re not kicking back until she’s stowed away safe and sound! Make sure to lock her up.”
    Well, that sure sounded like I was going to soon find myself once again forcibly fastened to the radiator. Different room, same situation. A moment later, however, I felt a pair much larger and warmer hands wrap around my own chilled fingers, as Roads carefully lifted me free of the back seat of his chopper.
    “So how was your first ride?” he asked me, his tone surprisingly comforting and mild as he swung a leg over the seat and stood up as well.
    I shook my head. “It, well, it was something else,” I said, not sure whether he had realized just how intensely I had felt that ride.
    When I looked up at his face, however, I could see a smirk dancing around his lips. “You know, a lot of women really like taking rides with us,” he said, unable to prevent the corners of his mouth from lifting up. “Something about the vibration of the engine…”
    Tugging one hand free from his grasp, I swatted at him, but the motion was playful rather than truly attacking. His smile widened as he put his hands up in mock defence against my blows. In the unsteady light from the front windows of the house, the shadows wreathed his face and made him look quite rugged. Despite my situation, despite my exhaustion and fear, I still felt a tiny flicker of attraction bloom briefly inside my chest.
    A moment later, however, a cold gust of wind came racing through the trees and shaking the leaves. I shivered violently as it hit me, and this didn’t escape Roads’ notice. “Let’s get you inside,” he said, wrapping one big arm around my shoulders. He guided me towards the house, up the steps of the front porch. The other bikers had already entered, although I noticed that Flamer was leaning against the bottom of the steps up to the porch. A lit cigarette dangled from her lips, and she rolled her eyes lazily at Roads and I as we passed.
    “Keep our little meal ticket safe, now,” she commented, although I couldn’t hear any real malice behind the words. They were just jokes, lazy ways of passing the time as she worked her way down towards the butt of the cancer stick.
    Roads didn’t reply, but followed me up the steps. The door leading into the house was ajar; I pulled it open and was immediately assaulted by a wall of noise.
    As we stepped inside, I felt like I was entering a fraternity house. I had visited one once, on a college campus tour, sneaking away from my dad and the rest of the group. It had been an absolute madhouse, filled with big, burly men shouting loudly, blaring music with too much bass coming out of over-cranked speakers, alcohol everywhere, and half-naked women scattered about, flirting, laughing, joking, or groping. And this place was no different, except perhaps that the men and women running and yelling through the halls were of all ages.
    As Roads closed the door behind him, I looked around and unconsciously shrank back against his comforting bulk, my eyes widening as I took in the sights. This house was a picture of debauchery! The front hall opened into a large living room, with two clusters of couches and armchairs around a pair of coffee tables. Men and women were scattered across these pieces of furniture, clothes strewn across the floor and in various stages of nakedness. And they weren’t being shy at all about their activities!
    Just a couple feet away from me, a man was sitting in an armchair with his legs splayed. He wore a leather vest, hanging open to show off his gut, but nothing else. A blonde woman