Outlaw Road (A MC Romance) Read Online Free PDF Page A

think most kids wouldn't emulate their parents after seeing them sleeping in their own vomit for days at a time.
    Most probably do. Just... not all of them.
    My older sister, for example, fell in with the wrong crowd. It was easy for her, especially when she knew the dealers our own parents used by name.
    So, yeah, there's a reason I hate the stuff. I also know it's just stuff, it's not who these people are. Not deep down. My parents are messed up, but they really love me.
    Even if it isn't obvious.
    But my sister? Claudine? She showed me that she cared. And that was new. She was all I had for a very, very long time. That's why, even if no one else gives a fuck...
    I'm going to find her.
    Inching around the rotting wood of the doorway, I leaned into the backyard. It was the last place my dad would be, but I had to check. The air was cool, the right kind of chill for Nebraska. Especially with Fall creeping around the corner. In no time at all, October would be on us. “Dad?” My voice was stale in the late hour. “Dad, you out here?”
    Tugging my jacket high around my throat, I pushed my thick, reddish hair away from my ears. My skin was already turning pink; I hated the cold.
    In the low light of the fading day, the backyard was some weird combination of junkyard and museum. Old, gutted vehicles sat in the same spot they always would. Next to a rusted lawnmower, a dusty, turquoise plastic tricycle appeared out of place.
    Crunching on the gravel, I watched my breath flow into existence. I never liked coming back home, no matter how many times I did it. Will they be okay without me? The thought alone was twisting my guts. Of course they'll be fine. Worry about Claudine.
    No one else would, after all.
    It had been over a week, time had flown by. One night, she just didn't come back to the tiny studio apartment we shared together. According to her text, she was hanging out with her new boyfriend, but when neither of them answered their phones the next day... or the day after... I knew something was off.
    I did the obvious thing first, the thing they tell you to do; I went to the cops. You know what they said? They said, 'It's just Claudine. She's always been a little messed up. Bet she ran off with some guy, and you're a smart girl, Flora. You can guess what she's so busy with.'
    Yeah. That's right. Apparently, doing a bit of heroin means nothing bad can happen to you unless you do it to yourself! They told me she was an adult, so they wouldn't search for her like she was some runaway kid. It was a 'waste of resources.'
    It didn't matter that I said her boyfriend had seen her last! They wouldn't even talk to him!
    Small town politics can rot in hell.
    My next step was my parents, but mom and dad didn't want to discuss Claudine. She'd run out on them pretty early, they'd never repaired their relationship. I could grasp their hurt feelings, sure, but you'd think—even with bad blood—you'd worry about your missing daughter?
    My father kept ranting that he was too busy getting ready to go out again for another two weeks of working at the oil drill. Mom would just walk room to room, never meeting my eyes as she got drunker and drunker.
    The message was clear: Give up on your sister.
    But fuck that.
    Giving up on Claudine was the last thing I'd ever do. She'd done so much for me over the years. I couldn't walk away from this.
    “Dad! Hey!” Cupping my hands around my mouth, I shivered. The sun was a bleeding speck on the horizon. Where was he?
    Turning, I spotted his dented up truck on the edge of the property. The tingling in my scalp acted as intuition; it told me what I'd find, even before I jogged up to the driver's side window. “Dad,” I breathed out, tapping on the glass.
    He was curled up inside, a beer between his knees. If he was out here, it meant my parents had been fighting. I didn't have time—or much of a desire—to ask what about. “Here,” I said, cracking the door a few inches.
    Grunting at me, his