Dirty Riding

  Skye Darrel

  Contents

  Dirty Riding

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Epilogue

  Epilogue

  Bad Boy Rebel

  Chapter 1

  Also by Skye Darrel

  Follow the Author

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to events, locales, or actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2019 by Skye Darrel

  First Edition

  skyedarrel.com

  Dirty Riding

  Former biker. Full-time bad boy.

  I’m on the run with three million dollars.

  Everybody wants a piece of me.

  Then she shows up begging for a ride.

  A pretty little hitchhiker, innocent and pure.

  Those luscious hips and tempting curves have me aching.

  Fate put her in my path and I’m claiming what’s mine.

  My ride. My rules.

  My girl – she just doesn’t know it yet.

  Luke’s an ex-biker on the run with a trunkful of money. When he stops to buy supplies, the last person he expects to meet is a runaway who needs his help.

  Piper left home to follow her dreams. She has no one but a kitten to keep her company. Until she hitches a ride that takes her further than she’s ever gone.

  Warning: High heat ahead. This book contains over the top instalove, a dominant alpha who stops at nothing to protect his virgin obsession, and a HEA sweeter than candy.

  Chapter One

  Luke

  I’m walking around Walmart with five hundred dollars in my wallet. Another three million sits in the trunk of my Escalade parked outside. All in Ben Franklins, never circulated, and every single dollar belongs to somebody else. What I need from Walmart are some protein bars, a first aid kit, and other items that’d be useful for an outlaw on the run from outlaws.

  It’s never a good idea to run off with somebody else’s money. The idea is especially bad when that someday happens to be a bunch of killers.

  But like Mama used to say, what’s done can’t be undone and y’all better git it done before you’re done in.

  I find the nutrition aisle where I search for the only brand worth buying. I’m particular on what I like.

  Halfway down the aisle, I notice an old man fifteen feet away. He leans against his cart with one hand clutching his chest. Face twisted with pain.

  There’s a girl nearby swiping packages from a shelf into her big backpack. Focused on her task, she doesn’t see the old man or me. The nearest security camera is one aisle over, and she stands under a blind spot.

  I spot the furry head of a kitten poking out of her backbag.

  What the hell?

  She pets the kitten before zipping up her pack, leaving a small gap, and her eyes turn to meet mine.

  Connection.

  I feel my cock harden.

  She’s short and plump, wearing cutoff shorts and a top that’s snug on her figure. Canvas sneakers on her feet. I’m thinking no older than twenty, and a bad shoplifter to boot. But those curves give her a sultry glow I can’t look away from, and that pretty face pulls me in deeper.

  The old man collapses.

  Her eyes dart between him and me before she runs for an open fire exit. She stops with one foot out the door, turns around with a desperate look, and rushes back to the old man.

  Ignoring me, she starts giving him CPR right under my gaze.

  I set my basket on a shelf.

  The old man starts breathing again.

  Little Miss Shoplifter raises her gaze, staring at me from under her lashes. “I think he had a heart attack. Can you get help?”

  I find a manager two aisles over with a name badge that reads Jeff, and I explain he has a customer in bad shape. Jeff gawks at the skull tattoo on my throat like he’s entranced.

  I smack his shoulder. “You heard what I said?”

  That gets his attention.

  We go back to see Shoplifter speaking softly with the old man. Jeff calls for an ambulance on his walkie talkie. It’s a shitty situation, but I can’t take my eyes of her.

  Two men wearing Walmart vests join us. It’s getting too crowded for my comfort.

  “What happened here?” Jeff asks.

  The girl stares at me with pleading eyes.

  Jeff frowns at her bulging backpack.

  “She saved his life,” I say. “We were nearby when he went down. She gave him CPR.”

  “Your name?” Jeff asks her. His eyes are cautious.

  “Piper Ginn,” she says quietly.

  “Open your bag, Piper.”

  She freezes on the spot.

  No good deed goes unpunished, especially when bad precedes the good. “She’s with me,” I say, picking up my basket.

  Jeff turns around. “With you?”

  “He’s my daddy,” Piper blurts out.

  I stifle a growl. I’m nowhere old enough to be her father, but I’m old enough that Jeff has to think before he can realize she’s bullshitting him.

  “My darling’s real good with CPR,” I say with a flat face.

  I walk past Jeff to steer her out of the aisle toward the registers. She smells like strawberries and honey.

  “Thanks,” she whispers.

  “Save a life, get a life.”

  “Huh?”

  “Nevermind.”

  “What’s your name?” she says.

  “Luke.”

  “Nice to meet you, Luke.”

  “You gonna pay for what you took?”

  Her cheeks flush as we get in line at the register. “I don’t have any cash.”

  “No credit card?”

  “You know I don’t.”

  “I know nothing of the kind, we just met. How about your cat? He got any cash?”

  “It’s a she.”

  “Did you see the no-pets sign outside?”

  “I didn’t have anywhere to leave her,” Piper murmurs.

  We’re two spots away from the register.

  “Put what you took on the belt,” I say.

  She looks around. There’s no one close enough to hear our whispering. “I just told you I can’t pay for it!”

  “Good to know you’re not thieving for kicks.”

  Piper looks scared.

  I unzip her backpack and put everything she nabbed on the conveyor belt. A handful of energy bars plus a dozen packets of soft beef jerky. Then I add my things from the basket. I pat her kitten on the nose and thankfully it doesn’t meow again. The tiny furball is tucked between layers of clothes and a Ziploc bag containing a toothbrush.

  Manager Jeff has found the time to watch us from the aisle, but I stay calm while the cashier bags our items. I pay for everything and put my hand around Piper’s shoulder until we’re out of the store.

  “Where you headed?” she asks, still following me.

  “Somewhere not here.”

  “Where?”

  I shoot her a look. I’m not in the habit of explaining myself to strangers, but when I lay eyes on her, my cock reacts again. No one has ever caught my attention like this. She’s different.

  There's something perfect about this girl.

  But I keep walking.

  She stays on my heels and that T-shirt of hers doesn't leave much to the imagination. Her chest bounces slightly with every step. My cock presses against my jeans, the pressure feeding back like a damn squeeze that makes me rock hard.

  We stop at the back of my new Escalade SUV that still has dealer plates. I don’t plan on getting it registered anytime soon.

  “Boerne,” I say. “That’s where I’m headed.”

  “Boerne isn’t far.”

  I hand her the energy bars and beef jerky.

  Piper stuffs the food into her backpack. She tears open one packet of jerky and feeds small bites to the kitten.

  A breeze chases her hair.

  God she’s beautiful.

  Beautiful and strange. She looks young with those shorts and sneakers, but her eyes are weary. They have a tired stare to them.

  She’s seen some shit—or she got no sleep last night. Hard to tell.

  I should be leaving, but her presence holds me in place. Besides, I’m a cat person. People look at me and think I raise pit bulls in my backyard or wrestle with bears in my spare time, but I’m a cat person.

  “What are you doing out here?” I ask.

  “Talking to me or Bandit?”

  “Who’s Bandit?”

  “The kitten.” Piper shrugs. “She eats a lot. I have to find her food more often than for myself. Otherwise she’ll steal something. The last town I stopped at, she tried to eat from a dog bowl. The dog almost bit her.”

  “I’m talking to you.”

  “Oh good. Because Bandit can’t talk.”

  The girl’s got some sass on her. And hips too, now that I look closer. “You hitchhiking?”

  “I’m on vacation,” she mutters.

  “And your idea of a vacation is shoplifting from Walmart.”

  “Making fun of me?”

  “No more than you’re

on vacation.”

  She glances at my tattoo, then at my car. “What about you? You don’t seem like . . . a regular guy.”

  “I’m a bank robber. There’s three million dollars in my trunk.”

  “You ain’t no banker robber,” Piper says at once.

  “Why do you think that?”

  “I just have a feeling. You don’t feel like a bank robber.”

  “All right. I really rob gas stations.”

  “You ain’t no robber at all.”

  That’s not entirely accurate. “How do you figure that?”

  “I’m pretty good at figuring men. You’re a nice one, I think.”

  She does this thing with her lashes, then puts one foot in front of the other. My eyes rake over the swell of her luscious hips before I look her in the eye again, the only damn place I should be looking.

  What the hell does she mean, good at figuring men? She dates a lot? Jealousy shoots through my body and I have no fucking clue why. Being a biker, I’ve gotten plenty of attention from magnificent women, but none of them ever interested me. Not like this little beauty standing under my gaze.

  “It’s not safe to hitchhike,” I growl. “Your parents know where you are?”

  “Thought you were my daddy.” She tries to smile.

  I bite my teeth together. “I’m the kind of guy your daddy would tell you to stay away from.”

  “Well, I never met my dad so I don’t know what kind that is. But I could use a ride to Boerne.” Her eyes wander over my chest and she blushes. “If it’s not too much trouble. You helped me already—in for a penny, in for a pound?”

  “What’d you need the food for?”

  “I’m hungry,” she says bluntly. “So’s Bandit.”

  This is a goddamn atrocity. I decide no matter what else happens I’m buying Piper a decent meal first. “You got people in Boerne?”

  “Nope, but it’s my next stop. I’m headed to California. I wanna go to school there, but . . .” She looks away. “I’m headed to California,” she repeats.

  I take a step closer. “Where you from?”

  “Milburn. Down in Kenedy County.”

  “Never heard of it,” I say.

  “Nobody has. One reason I left. I hitchhiked my way up I-37 until I landed in San Antonio. It’s about two hundred miles. Wasn’t easy either, I walked when I had to.”

  “By yourself?”

  “Bandit kept me company.”

  It’s a goddamn miracle she made it. She’s seen some shit, all right. Then I notice the bead of sweat that rolls down her neck. We’ve been standing under the sun too long.

  I want to help her. I want to do other things, but I keep my urges and cock under control.

  Riding with me would be hazardous.

  If Johann and the others catch up with me, there’s bound to be shooting. I can’t risk Piper’s safety.

  “Darling, I’m no robber, but I’m close. Bad men want me dead. They’re after me, and they’re after the money. You wouldn’t be safe.”

  If that’s not a clear warning, then I don’t know what it is. She needs to know how dangerous I am. She needs to understand nothing good comes from getting into my car.

  “Sounds exciting,” she says after a moment.

  I growl. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Maybe not. But whatever you got going on, it beats walking.” She yawns. “I’m tired, Luke. Last night I slept under a tree by the road.”

  That decides it. I’m not leaving her like this. “Get in.”

  “Really?”

  “Hell yes really.” I pull the passenger door open. “Get in,” I say gruffly.

  She climbs into the seat, and seeing her round ass gets my cock throbbing. Walking around to the driver’s side, I have to adjust my jeans.

  “Sorry how I smell,” she says as I get behind the wheel. “I haven’t showered in a week. Guess I look messy too.”

  My eyes flash. “What are you talking about?”

  “Huh?”

  “You smell like strawberries and honey. You look fucking beautiful.”

  A thick silence settles.

  “Your nose must be broken. And your eyes—” She glances out her window, then back to me. “You think I’m pretty?”

  “You’re beautiful.”

  “Okay . . . and where do you get strawberries and honey? I can't remember the last time I ate a strawberry.”

  “That’s what you smell like to me,” I growl.

  “Weirdo.” She says that, but her face turns redder.

  My cock gets harder. “We’ll grab a bite first. A real meal.”

  “You want to buy me food?”

  “Darling, you don’t strike me as financially solvent.”

  “What do you want in return?”

  “In return?”

  “I don’t need you buying me food,” she says suddenly, putting one hand on the passenger door. Her whole posture stiffens. “I’m only hitching a ride ‘cause we’re both headed to Boerne. If you expect me to do something in return, like take my clothes off—well I don’t do that stuff.”

  She glares at me.

  I start the engine. “You don’t owe me any favors,” I say quietly. “You’ll be safe as long as I’m breathing. That’s a promise, Piper.”

  I don’t know what asshole men she’s been dealing with. I’m an asshole in my way, but not that kind.

  We stop at a grill fifteen minutes from Walmart.

  This isn’t the best restaurant, but I don’t have time to shop around. The longer I stay in San Antonio, the more likely Johann will find me. That motherfucker has a miraculous ability to track me down anywhere in the city.

  We get a seat near the entrance, where Piper parks her backpack with Bandit leaning out. The restaurant is loud. Bandit doesn’t seem skittish though, staying in that backpack and watching me with curious eyes.

  I tell Piper to order whatever she wants. She gets a beef brisket sandwich and pecan pie. I order a walnut chicken salad, which earns me a frown from my hitchhiker.

  “What kinda man orders a chicken salad?” she quips.

  “The kind who likes chicken salads. Eat your sandwich.”

  She finishes her plate in a few bites and orders another. I can’t stop watching her eat. I feel like a caveman who’s brought food to my woman and it’s a good feeling.

  “What?” she says.

  “Nothing,” I growl.

  “Okay . . .” She looks at the skull tattooed on my throat. Another on my left hand, part of the ink that traces up my arm. “Those look scary.”

  “They’re meant to be. I’m a biker.” Used to be anyway.

  Piper laughs. “Whoa, whoa. Biker as in motorcycle club? MC biker?”

  “You find this surprising?”

  “I dunno. I've met bikers before, you don't look like them.”

  “And how should a biker look?”

  She thinks for a moment. “Hard to say. But it’s not just your looks. For example, you don’t smell like a carton of cigarettes soaked in alcohol.”

  “That’s a damn insult.”

  “To you, or bikers in general?”

  “Both.”

  “Well, my mom had a few biker boyfriends. I know what I’m talking about.”

  I pay the check and get up. “You may know every man in the world, but you don’t know me. I know that for a fact. Let’s go.”

  Half an hour passes while I fight through lunch hour traffic for the interstate ramp. Piper stays silent until we get on I-10. “Thanks for the food,” she says.

  “What are you gonna do in Boerne?”

  “There’s a bus station there. I’ll get a ticket for Phoenix.”

  “What’s in Phoenix?”

  “Nothing. I’ll get another ticket to San Diego. That’s where I’m going.”

  “Didn’t you say you don’t have any cash?”

  “I’ll get some,” she whispers. “Somehow.”

  My eyes stay on the road. One thing I have plenty of is cash.

  Chapter Two

  Piper

 

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