Lamp Riders: A Jinn Motorcycle Gang Novella by Augusta Hill

Author:Augusta Hill [Hill, Augusta]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: California romance, romantic short story, latino heroine, western comedy, paranormal genie short story, quick romantic read, genie romance, paranormal HEA, new adult romance
Published: 2014-12-31T06:00:00+00:00

5

Celia awoke the next day with the smell of cigarettes and stale beer surrounding her. Her head was pounding and her mouth felt as dry as her backyard. She rolled over and groaned as her eyes demanded to stay shut against the cruel light of morning. It was the typical morning-after for a night at the Rusty Jug – a hangover and a hatred for humanity. Eventually, she managed to sit up and stretch, trying to find her alarm clock in the mess that was on her floor.

Nine A.M.

It was way too early to get up, but her eyes seemed insistent on staying open. The smell of eggs and potatoes drifted into the room, and Celia’s stomach began an angry list of demands. It was early, but the lure of breakfast burritos was stronger than the desire to stay in bed. She got up, wrapped herself in a robe, and shuffled out of her bedroom. Bleary-eyed, Celia made her way towards the kitchen.

“Morning,” called a handsome bald man from the couch, where he sprawled like a lion.

“Morning,” Celia mumbled, wrinkling her face with the effort to talk.

“Hungry?” asked another man, reading a newspaper while leaning against the counter.

“Yeah, it smells good out here,” Celia said, before the surprise hit her.

She turned around slowly, looking back at the man on the couch. He waved at her and gave a little wink. She had a sudden memory of the man pushing her down while bullets flew around the room. Her foggy brain tried valiantly to process what was happening, but kept hitting an error message. She turned back to the man at the counter and looked at his newspaper. It was that day’s paper from the New York Times.

“We...don’t...have any newspapers in this town,” she said slowly.

As the situation started to become clearer, she looked around the room again. There were even more men than she had originally thought. Sprawled on couches, chairs, and even the kitchen table, sat a whole crew of muscled guys, all looking at her with a hint of mischief.

“Oh God, I didn’t imagine you,” she sighed, shoulders slumped in defeat.

“Nope. There is no way you could even imagine a group like us,” came a familiar voice from the kitchen.

She looked behind the guy with the newspaper and saw Abdul sitting in her father’s favorite chair, drinking tea out of a tiny tulip-shaped tea glass. His dark hair was slightly ruffled, and Celia thought she could detect a hint of tiredness to his eyes, but otherwise he looked as stunning as ever. He appeared to be supervising Murrah, who was making a valiant attempt at cooking eggs. Based on the copious splatters of yolk all over the floor, Murrah had already made and thrown away more than one pan of omelets gone wrong.

“The bar last night,” Celia said slowly, as the memories came rushing back.

“We had quite the dance,” Abdul broke in, beginning to hum Brown Eyed Girl.

Celia’s cheeks threatened to betray her, and she coughed slightly to hide her face in her sleeve.

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