4 Horsemen Novella! Kayla's Ride (Sons of San Merced Erotic Motorcycle Club Biker Romance) Read Online Free PDF Page A

finally came into view. Tired from the long trip, I was ready to get off the bike. We rolled into the dusty town, veering away from the main road and the hotels, heading toward dark neighborhoods of old small houses. Finally, the bike rolled up in front of one dark home. I looked around at the surroundings of the cul-de-sac. The lawn was gravel, no need for maintenance, and the low slung block home was the kind of place that would probably be standing when wood and ticky-tacky homes were ground to dust. Famine stepped off the bike and put a key into the garage door, lifting it up by hand and returning to ride the bike inside.
    Never thought I’d be back here.” Famine said, stepping back off the bike and pulling the door closed behind us. Bathed in darkness, I could hear Famine’s steps walking past as if he were familiar with his surroundings, and a light flickered on to prove it. His hand out, I walked toward the interior door. We stepped over the threshold together, and once inside I landed with a thud on a chair in the small dining room. Lights flickered to life and I surveyed the place. Dust covered everything.
    “What is this?” I asked, looking around the room. It was like going back in time. The patterns, the objects, the answering machine blinking on the counter, the large fat TV.
    “This is a safe place… I used to vacation here when I wanted to get away from the MC for awhile, or when I needed to lay low. Nobody comes to Blythe. Nobody knows who I am here. It was easy to keep this place secret.”
    “I need to know what’s really going on. Conquest was talking about bigger fish. What are we doing, really?” I asked, quietly.
    “I’ll explain everything, but first, we need a shower.” Famine was looking me over and I was immediately self-conscious. I glanced down, my shirt pressed against me dirty skin, the dust of the desert worked into ever crevice of cloth. I was a wreck!
    “Bathroom is down the hall, I’ll use the master. I’ve got some clothes I can lay out for you.”
    Famine didn’t look any better, Dust coating his leather. He tossed our helmets on the table, walking confidently into one of the bedrooms. I heard water starting up and took the quiet moment to breathe. Standing, I made my way down the hall to the second bathroom, slipping out of the dirty clothes as I turned on the hot water.
    A good shower was always hot. The spray stung on my skin but did a fine enough job of washing away the sweat and fear and worry of the world. I scrubbed with a positively ancient bar of soap, its suds stinging the still healing cuts on my hands, trying my best to feel clean again. I stood there in the steam until the heat gave out, the water coming down colder and colder, bringing my body temperature back to Earth. Outside the shower, I stood dripping wet on the mat, not willing to use the old dust covered towel. I slid my hands along my skin, flicking water about before drawing my long hair back and using my fingers as makeshift combs. For a moment, I felt almost human again. Almost. Staring at myself in the mirror, I turned, surveying the damage from a few nights prior. Outside of a minor bruise or two, I was more or less intact. Tucking the hair back into a bun, I grabbed the metal pen and skewered it.
    Famine’s voice came through the door, startling me. “Clothes here, I’ll leave them.”
    I cracked the door, grabbing everything off the floor. It was a pair of deep red silk boxers and a large impeccably tailored button-up shirt. I slipped the shirt over myself, thankful that Famine had a solid chest as I buttoned it up to my cleavage, covering myself as best I could. The silken shorts slid on like a glove, tracing along my legs and holding against my skin. They were clean, but smelled faintly stale - they’d probably spent years folded up in a drawer. Looking at myself in the mirror, even given the circumstances, I looked pretty good. My feet carried me out to the living room, seeking