Flagger

Chapter one

The road passed in a blur as he accelerated through the gears. His eyes on the prize, the only thing he focused on was the point they had marked to be the end of the quarter-mile drag strip fashioned out of Louisville Road. It was desolate this time of night, but he knew if they weren't careful, the people at Donna's Country Store would call the local sheriff's office. They had to be in and out with lightning speed. His thumb itched—where it sat on the steering wheel—to press the button that would activate the NOS system Walker's Wheel's had just put in.

He would be working to pay that off for a few weeks, but the boys of the Heaven Hill MC were good to him, and for that he was appreciative. It also meant the money he would be winning tonight would go to the people who needed it most. The car on the right-hand side was coming up fast, but Aiden Montgomery knew just when to time the press of that button that would push him across the finish line first. Wait for it, wait for it.

His brain slowed him down. The beating of his heart roared in his ears. The winnings meant so much that sometimes he felt like he was going to have a heart attack in the mere seconds it took him to complete the quarter-mile.

At just the right moment, he engaged the button and held on for the ride of his life. The finish line passed in a haze as he down-shifted and let the engine cool. As the engine cooled, his breathing leveled out, and the tense muscles of his body relaxed. He pulled the car around into the parking lot of a local church.

"Aiden, you're a ballsy motherfucker. I don't know how you hang onto that car."

Hearing his fiercest competitor call him a ballsy motherfucker was worth it. "Thanks, Slim." He couldn't help the grin that tilted up the side of his mouth.

He walked over to where the ringleader for the racers of the Trail held court, counting out money and handing it over to the people who had bet on him for the night. "Where's my cut for the night, Rodrigo?" he asked, holding his hand out.

Rodrigo looked at him, his eyebrow raised. "Give me your arm."

"Seriously? Dude, I've been doin' this shit for almost a year. I still gotta show you?"

"Rules are rules."

Aiden blew out a breath and lifted his long-sleeve shirt up over his forearm. "Well, do it."

Rodrigo pulled a black light out of his pocket and shined it over Aiden's forearm, revealing the cherry tattooed there. It was white and used black light responsive ink. Nobody saw it but Rodrigo and the other members of the illegal street racing circuit. The cherry was an inside code—when they wanted to have a race, they would always text that their grandmother was bringing cherry pie over for dinner. And they were a bunch of boys barely past teenage years—cherry was a euphemism for almost everything. It cracked them up and allowed them to keep their secret.

Aiden pocketed the money, walking straight over to the scantily clad girls who normally showed up for races at the Trail. He liked to indulge, and tonight was no different as he crooked a finger at a black-haired beauty. Quickly he pulled her back behind the church, slapping hands with Slim as he went. He didn't respect these girls; they offered one thing and one thing only. They were a means to an end for him. Aiden never knew how the encounter would go, but when the girl dropped to her knees in front of him and unbuckled his jeans, he had a damn good idea.

Shoving his hands into her hair, he gripped the back of her head and thrust his hips as she opened her mouth and sucked him deep.

*

He was re-buckling his jeans, making sure everything was tucked in, as he made his way back around the building.

"C'mon, Aiden." Samantha, one of the girls he'd fucked before, lifted up her shirt, flashing her tits for not only him but everyone else to see.