HWY 550 by Freya Barker

Author:Freya Barker [Barker, Freya]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Law Enforcement, Colorado, MC Motorcycle Club, FBI, Biker
Publisher: Freya Barker
Published: 2019-02-17T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 17

OURAY

“Elk.”

I turn my head in the direction Luna is pointing and sure enough, a small herd is grazing off the side of the road.

Early morning rides in these mountains are the best. There’s no traffic outside of town, the air still smells fresh, and if you’re lucky, you see some wildlife. With overnight temperatures dropping as summer moves into fall, your chances are better, as they slowly come out of the cool shade of the trees to find food in preparation for winter.

I used to prefer taking off by myself, but having Luna’s warm body plastered against my back as the wind hits my face, is fast becoming my preferred way of riding.

Earlier, we dropped off our bags at the clubhouse. Momma was already up and cooking, insisting we at least have a bite before hitting the road. Luna had driven over our stuff in the pickup, so Momma or Nosh could use that since the club truck would be coming to Ruidoso with us.

I gave instructions to the guys, leaving Kaga in charge, but I’m not sure how much of what I said registered—both because of the early-for-them hour, plus Luna seemed to provide a bit of a distraction.

I have to admit, she looks hot as fuck in her leathers. Hard to believe that only a month ago, she was dressed to minimize her appeal, and yet all decked out in black leather, she looks badass and more beautiful than ever.

The drive to Farmington is just over an hour, and we get there a little before nine. The wait isn’t long before we’re called in.

“The shot is effective immediately,” the nurse says, after injecting Luna with the contraceptive. “But your test reports will take two or three days. I can mail them to you if you leave me your address?”

“Do you give results over the phone?” I ask, eager to get my all-clear. My question makes Luna shuffle uncomfortably beside me.

The nurse smiles a knowing smile, looking from one to the other. “You can call Wednesday afternoon to see if they’re in yet.”

I snatch up a card and shove it in my pocket.

“Obvious much?” Luna hisses under her breath as we walk out of the clinic.

“Sprite, it’s fucking Planned Parenthood. It was obvious the second we walked in the damn door.”

The effects of the muffin Momma fed us this morning are long gone, and I’m starving as we head over to Sonya’s Diner in Bloomfield. We’re about a third of the way there on Highway 64, when a couple of police cruisers with lights and sirens, speeding toward us, suddenly cut across traffic and into the parking lot of a small industrial building. Just as we turn south on the 550, another cruiser and a fire truck fly by. Clearly something’s going on.

The parking lot of the diner is nearly full—mostly bikes. I’m guessing the Shiprock crew’s rolled in as well. We walk in to loud greetings and shoulder claps in the crowded diner. The only available spots are a couple of stools at the counter.

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