Terrors of the High Seas - DK6 Read Online Free PDF Page A

retaining bumpers.
    Damn floor didn’t have any padding and neither of them really bounced well.

    Terrors of the High Seas 17
    “Rrr,” Kerry burred, as their lips once again tasted each other.
    Dar stroked her delicately and the sound deepened to a groan.
    She stopped worrying about the floor.
    KERRY PULLED TO a stop at the corner and waited, allowing a car to pass before she eased up on the throttle a little and turned onto the main and only street that went through the town. She settled her weight on the motorcycle and enjoyed the breeze as it blew against her, gaining guilty pleasure from the fact that she’d shucked the long-sleeved leather jacket tucked into the strap at the back of the bike for her short trip up the road. It was early, the sun just easing over the trees, and the weather was crisp and cool; she’d taken a calculated risk that her growing mastery of the relatively sedate motorcycle wouldn’t make her regret it. She was, after all, wearing her jeans and boots and helmet, so leaving her upper body unprotected was hopefully just a limited exposure. So to speak.
    Dar was getting the boat ready for the next leg of their vacation, so Kerry had volunteered to make the short run up to the nearest Wal-Mart for a few things they’d realized they’d forgotten.
    Dar had laughed and accused her of just making an excuse to take the bike out, but since she liked to ride it as much as Kerry did, the accusation was specious at best.
    “Vroom, vroom.” Kerry glanced down at the Honda Shadow Spirit, then quickly focused her eyes back on the road.
    Since there wasn’t much traffic down there, they’d decided to purchase the bike for local errands, especially since they usually arrived by water. It had taken a few weeks’ practice, but Kerry was really enjoying the bike. There was a sense of wildness attached to it that she found appealing, and she always felt a little rebellious when she took the motorcycle out.
    Kerry passed through the quiet, empty stretch of scrub and trees, completely alone on the road. The peacefulness appealed to her, reminding her just a little of some of the areas near where she’d been born, where one could drive for an hour or so and not see any habitation around them.
    She idly imagined driving the cycle down her street and pulling into her parents’ driveway, then had to stop when she almost lost control of the darn thing while laughing. “And they thought a Mustang was bad.”
    After another few minutes, she was entering civilization again, a cluster of buildings and crossroads that were fairly new in appearance. She pulled into a left-turn lane, then swept through the green light into the parking lot of the twenty-four-hour Wal-Mart.
    There were several cars there already, but Kerry pulled up to the very front and smoothly stopped, nudging the kickstand down 18 Melissa Good and securing the bike as she dismounted. She pulled off her helmet and ran her fingers through her hair, then strapped the helmet to the back seat. A brief glance at her reflection in the front store windows made her grin. “Kerrison Stuart, biker chick.” She shook her head. “No one in my family would believe this .”
    An advertisement posted on the window caught her eye. The blonde brow reflected over it quirked. Squaring her shoulders, she confronted the door and pushed her way through it.
    DAR WALKED AROUND the boat, making a last minute inspection before they cast off. She was wearing her swimsuit, with a pair of cotton surfer shorts and a bright blue T-shirt over it. She tucked her hair up under a baseball cap and poked her head inside the diesel chamber, checking the engines with a knowledgeable eye.
    Satisfied, she pulled herself slowly up the ladder to the bridge, favoring the shoulder she’d hurt not long before.
    It annoyed her that the shoulder still bothered her, but not enough for her to break down and go back to the therapist. She was slowly getting back her normal range of motion, and