Unlawful by T L Wainwright

Author:T L Wainwright [Wainwright, T L]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-03-30T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nine

Leah

After walking, or should I say stumbling, for another ten or fifteen minutes, the tree line opens up as well as the dirt track, and right in front of us is a large, aging, two-story house. If it weren’t for the music that is getting louder, the nearer we get, and the people milling around outside on the huge porch, I’d be thinking that we’ve just walked into a hammer house of horror movie.

At one side of the house is a black van; to the other is a large outbuilding with a dozen or more motorcycle’s parked in front. The only light against the dark vehicles is when the moonlight reflects off the shiny chrome handlebars.

A fire pit sits at the front of the house. What looks like upturned crates, boxes and such are placed around it where people sit, laughing and drinking. When the smoke wafts in our direction, the pungent smell of pot has me stopping in my tracks.

“What’s going on, Dana?”

She stops and turns towards me. “It’s a house party.”

“Who does this house belong to, Dana?” I ask already suspecting what the answer will be.

“Just, a club…”

“What club, Dana?” I hiss.

“Erm, the Young Outlaws.”

“What the fuck, Dana! We can’t do this.”

“Why not?”

“Because… because…” Fuck! What if Cannon is in there? What the hell will I do? Excitement at the prospect of seeing him has my stomach in knots, but however much I’d love to see the look on his face, seeing me here dressed, well, kind of slutty, I’m pretty sure that this is a bad idea. “We need to go back to the car, like now.” I tug on Dana’s arm, but she’s not going anywhere.

“Hey, ladies. What are you doing hanging around in the woods at night?” A deep voice rumbled from out of nowhere.

“Oops, too late,” Dana gives me a fake smile before grabbing my hand and dragging me towards the leather-clad biker. The guy is tall and lanky. A thick head of curls sits on top of his head. It’s long and unruly and hangs just past his chin. His jaw line is short and narrow, but it may be his long, pointed messy beard that extenuates it. A cigarette hangs loosely from his lips, the pungent smell drifting over to us telling me that it’s not a regular smoke. His baggy jeans sit extremely low on his hips, blue T-shirt that’s a little short on his upper body barely covering his stomach. I’m sure that with the slightest lift of his arms, and it if it wasn’t as dark as it is, I’d see the top of where his pubic hair begins. Unless he is shaved of course, but I doubt it by the look of his general grooming. His leather cut hangs loosely; the word prospector lay across one side of his chest.

“Do you know that you’re on private property?”

“Sorry, we’ll just go,” I say nervously. “Dana,” I hiss, while tugging on her arms, pulling her back towards the direction from which we came.

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