Rage: The Bad Boy Dirty Talking Bikers True Love! (Wicked Warriors MC NorCal Chapter, A Bad Boy Bikers Motorcycle Club Romance Book 2) by P.T. Macias

Author:P.T. Macias [Macias , P.T.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: P.T. Macias Legacy Romance
Published: 2022-03-30T18:30:00+00:00

Eleven

Duchess Marie

“Duchess, look,” Linda says as she drives down the street.

The red and blue lights are flashing, and the neighbors are standing around the yard, walkway, and across the street.

“What the fuck! Can you see where they’re at,” I ask, leaning forward, holding onto the dashboard?

Linda drives down the street and stops because the road is blocked by police cars.

“I can’t see, but it looks like it’s your apartment,” Linda whispers, wide-eyed.

“It can’t be,” I yell, trying to pull the door handle to get out.

“Wait, let me park. I want to go with you,” Linda yells, pulling along the street to park.

“Oh my god! Please, please pray that my Mom and Dad are okay,” I yell, finally opening the car’s door.

I exit the car, running towards the apartment, pushing through the police and people. I stop at the front door, looking inside at the police and paramedics zipping up a black bag.

My heart pounds, and it feels like it’s going to pop out of my chest.

“No,” I yell, pushing the officers to walk inside the apartment.

The officer grabs my arm, pulling me back.

“Where in the fuck do you think you’re going? This is a crime scene,” the officer yells, glaring at me.

“That’s my Mom! I need to see my Mom,” I yell, pulling my arm, trying to get it out of his tight grasp.

Fucking motherfucker!

The tears roll down my face, and I know that I must look frantic, crazy.

“Miss, you don’t want to look at your Mom. Let me ask you some questions,” the officer says, pulling me out of the apartment.

I feel like I’m in a nightmare; this can’t be real.

I start shaking my head, rubbing my hands up and down my arms. I start to walk towards the apartment.

“I need to see her; I can’t stay here,” I say, taking a few steps.

The son of bitch cop grabs my arm again.

Fuck!

“Let me go! What are you doing? I need to see my Mom,” I scream, glaring up at him.

“Miss. You need to calm down,” the officer says.

“Duchess,” Linda says, walking over to me, hugging me.

“Linda, this pig wouldn’t let me see my Mom! I need to see her,” I yell, pushing Linda back.

“Duchess, calm down. Let the paramedics do what they need to do,” Linda says, taking hold of my hand.

I gasp for air and hiccup, shaking my head.

This is not real; it can’t be.

“Miss, I need to ask you some questions,” the officer says, standing next to me with his little black notepad and pen in his hands.

Fucker!

“Uh . . . ah. . . .what in the world do you want to ask! Can’ you see that I just got here. I need to see my Mom,” I yell, raising my hands, burying my face, sobbing.

My heart is breaking, and this fucker wants to talk.

“Miss, I need to ask some questions to help solve the murder of your parents,” the officer says softly.

I hear Linda gasp; she places her hand on my shoulder as support.

“What are you saying? My Mom is dead,” I ask, my tears rolling down my cheek.

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