BILLIONAIRE BIKERS: 3 MC Romance Books by Kristina Blake

Author:Kristina Blake [Blake, Kristina]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: UNKNOWN
Published: 2016-09-25T18:30:00+00:00

CHAPTER 6

WOLF

I've always known Elizabeth Lane was a firecracker, but wow.

And that's not even counting the incredible sex we just had—which I fully intend to count, by the way. No, my current reaction is in response to her striding straight for the door to our makeshift prison cell as it rolls upward and opens. I watch helplessly as her incredible, all-too-womanly figure is illuminated from the front—at least she's fully dressed again, which is more than I can say for myself.

But there's more important shit hitting the fan now than the fact that I just hit that from behind.

"Lane!" I don't even pretend to try and hide myself this time. I rise up from behind the crate, trousers half-open and torso bare; I clutch the bundle of my sweat-stained clothes to my chest like some old-fashioned woman from a movie discovered in the midst of a torrid affair. Her footfalls hit the floor of the truck harder; her legs and arms pump; she sprints right into the square of light. I hear a man's voice cry out in Spanish, but it's far too late for that poor guy to do anything to avoid the avenging angel racing toward him.

Lane doesn't emit a battle cry; she doesn't emit a sound. She hurls her body out of the truck, feet first, and lets gravity do the rest. She comes down on the driver like a battle-axe, and I scramble after her as we both make our escape from the truck.

I thought I would be relieved to finally have that door open. I was wrong. Hot midday air hits me like a blast furnace, nearly knocking me back into the bed of the truck. I hop down from the back, strong calves catching me on the ground; the soles of my own bare feet are immediately burned by the scorching blacktop beneath.

"Oh shit," I mutter. These circumstances stand in huge contrast to the world we left behind us up north. Just how far south did our unwitting captors take us?

Lane stands over the man she dropped, hands on her hips as she considers the pathetic heap of unconscious muscle and bone he makes. I crane a little closer to get a better view. I think I recognize him from the warehouse, but can't say for certain. I take the initiative to toe him onto his stomach; he rolls heavily, and I can see all too clearly the Devil’s Bastards' shitty patch leering out at me from between the man's thick shoulder blades.

"Nice catch," I mention to Lane. She snorts—whether or not in amusement, I can't exactly say. She combs a hand through her blond tresses, pulling her hair out of her eyes and letting it tumble like a wave down one shoulder. I've stopped looking at the man at our feet now, obviously, to take in the blinding sight of the woman I've just had fantastic sex with. Jesus, it was well worth it, all these years of torture never knowing if I'd

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