Currently uploading 2 chapters per week
///
She's an injured dancer trying to pick up the pieces of her shattered career. He's a broken man with an addictive personality. Like oil and water, they don't mix well.
When watching isn't enough, he gets...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
After the locked-door debacle, we went up to Lee's apartment and watched the Phillies game while we waited for the pizza delivery Ray ordered. The guys were all nice in their own ways but I'm starting to learn that their universal language seems to be yelling. Not always at each other, sometimes with each other. I'm surprised Lee doesn't get more noise complaints.
After an hour of hanging out with my rag-tag crew of kidnappers, Lee nudged my knee with his to pull my attention away from the game playing on the TV. "Tonight you're gonna stay at Ray's place, just outside town."
"Like hell she is." Billy sneers from his spot on the couch across from us.
"This isn't a fuckin' game, Bill. She damn sure isn't a prize to be won." Ray's tone is level and stern, he sits calmly beside me as if he expects the crazy man to just obey. "She needs space to get her head straight and you need some well-overdue karmic justice," Ray's face twists into a wicked smile, "We're happy to deliver."
In a flash, Antoine has his arm locked around Billy's neck, restraining his thick body to the couch. A rough hand quickly slipped under my knees and a strong arm wrapped behind my back as I was lifted from the soft cushion. "Sorry, Doll. It's the only way to do this."
"Do what?"
"Gettin' you outta here, darlin'." The words rumble from his chest and I can feel them reverberate against my skin. We're out Lee's front door and taking the stairs down to the parking lot outside. I risk a peek over Ray's muscled shoulder to see Lee bounding down the stairs behind us with my crutches in his hand.
I'm slammed down on a large bike, straddling the leather seat. "Sorry, forget you're so light." He mutters as he pushes a helmet down on my head and snaps the chin strap before adjusting it to fit. He hauls a leg over the bike to sit behind me. I'm instantly aware of how hard his body is against my back but the engine revving to life between my legs draws my attention away from the sex god wrapped around me. "Lean with the bike, you'll be just fine." His husky drawl is just loud enough for me to hear over the rumble.
My heart is on the verge of beating out of my chest in anticipation of my first motorcycle ride, but my eyes catch on Lee's form running through the parking lot toward a black truck. He was tossing my crutches in the bed when the front doors to the apartment building burst open with a slam. The engine beneath me is so loud and my helmet muffles my hearing even more, yet I still hear the distinct, "Ah shit," from behind me on the bike.
Billy is on the sidewalk staring at us, at me. One of his arms hanging at his side, the other bent behind his back reaching for his gun. Probably the pistol he whipped me with, the bastard.
The slam of Lee's driver's side door snaps him out of whatever trance he's been under because his eyes go wide as he watches Lee drive away with a muddy motorcycle in the bed of his truck.
Ray takes the opportunity to lean forward and hit the throttle, the rush of wind threatening to steal the breath from my lungs. My loose hair blows back into his broad chest that somehow stays warm in this cool, autumn weather. His tattooed arms help guide my body in the right direction to lean as he steers his way through the windy roads out of town.
