Shelly Laurenston: Pack Challenge

He had been so lost to her that he didn’t even realize that her friends had burst into the alley, clearly prepared for a fight. The one called Miki had a baseball bat, probably from behind the bar. The other, Angelina, had removed the high-heel shoes she had been wearing and seemed ready to handle the situation with her bare hands. He’d thought she had that take-care-of-herself quality.

“Sara!” Angelina yanked Sara back from Zach, while Miki stared. Zach could only imagine how it must look to them with their friend’s tongue down a stranger’s throat and her hand on his crotch. “What are you doing?” Zach quickly retracted his canines back to normal human incisors.

Sara pulled away from Angelina and leaned back into Zach. She smiled, “This is my pretty man. Isn’t he great? I think I love him.”

Miki rolled her eyes and lowered the bat, “You have got to be kidding me.”

Angelina moved toward her friend, “Okay, honey, that’s the half-bottle of tequila talking. Now it’s time to let the ‘pretty man’ go.”

“No!” She snapped, causing her friend to stop in her tracks. Zach watched, amazed at her level of aggression.

But her friends seemed completely unaware at how close they were to real danger. Miki burst into laughter while Angelina looked validly concerned. “Sara, honey, you’ve got to let your toy go.”

“Hey!” Zach snapped.

Angelina glared at him, “Work with me.” She bit out between clenched teeth.

“Okay. Okay.” Sara straightened up. “Don’t fight on my account. I can take a hint. I’ll go.”

Angelina visibly relaxed, “Good.”

“But first…” Sara whispered so that only Zach could hear. Then her hand was at the back of his neck and she pulled him down so that their faces were barely an inch apart, “It would be just rude not to say ‘night.”

She kissed him one more time. And that urge to take her returned in full force, whether her friends were watching or not.

“Whoa!” He heard Miki exclaim.

But before he could slam Sara face down over a garbage can, Angelina had her friend by the waist and was dragging her back to the club, “Come on, sassy girl. We need to get some coffee into you before you set somebody’s car on fire…again.”

“Bye-bye, pretty man.” Sara waved at Zach.

Miki pulled the back door open as Angelina, literally, threw her friend inside. “That’s it. No more tequila for you, missy. Ever.”

Miki followed them but stopped just at the entrance. She turned and looked at Zach, “Look, sorry ‘bout that. She’s really drunk.”

“No problem.” Zach forced out. It was taking all his inner strength just to control his dick.

Miki flashed a pretty smile and turned to enter the club. She stopped short, “Jesus Christ, Angie! Get her off the floor!”

Zach pulled out a cell phone and pushed a button. While he waited for the connection, he quickly adjusted his suddenly tight-fitting jeans. “Hey.” He answered when he got a pick up, “It’s Zach. It’s definitely her. But they’re already here.”

TOC

“He’s on the List?”

“But he just… ”

“He’s on the List.”

Sara sat behind the counter of Marrec’s Choppers, the store she had been working at since she was fourteen, and watched the now weekly ritual between her two best friends.

“Sara.” Miki demanded, “The List!”

“Would you two bitches please stop. I have a migraine.”

“No. You have a hangover. Now, the List.”

Sara sighed, “No cowboys. No bikers. No criminals of any kind. And no republicans.”

“And…”

Sara and Angelina shrugged.

“No rodeo clowns.”

“You just added that!” Angelina snapped. It had been a rodeo clown that had just asked her on a date that morning.

“No. No. They were always on the List.”

“He’s a nice guy.”

“He dodges bulls for a living. He’s gonna screw you over!”

“Stop yelling!” Sara put her head in her hands. “Just let me die in peace.”

“That’s what you get for getting all liquored up.” Miki chastised.

Sara felt Angelina slip an arm around her shoulders, “Honey, it’s been six months since your grandmother died. Maybe it’s time to stop celebrating. Especially since you seem to become quite the whore when you drink.”

“I do not!” But Sara couldn’t help but smile at the faint, drunken memory of attacking some poor guy in the alley of her favorite club. “Besides, I’m not celebrating. I’m just glad that my grandmother’s…”

“In hell?” Miki cut in.

“There’s no proof of that.” Sara rubbed her temples. The pain in her head would go away eventually. Besides, she was used to pain. Her right leg had been in varying states of unbearable pain for more than 20 years. She’d simply learned to ignore it. And she probably would continue to ignore the pain for the rest of her life. She’d almost grown used to it. Hell, it could be worse. She could be dead.

Or, she could be like the girl stumbling up and through the front door of the shop. Her face and biker leather covered in dirt and blood.

“Holy shit.” Sara quickly limped out from behind the counter, “Guys, call 911. Marrec!” She yelled toward the back, “Come quick!”

“No. No. I’m fine.” The girl waved Sara away.

“Really? You look like shit,” Miki remarked.

“Bike crashed.” The girl stretched and Sara could hear every one of her bones cracking. “Actually, that’s why I’m here. You’ve got a mechanic here, right?”

“Don’t you really need an ambulance?” Angelina asked.

“Or a hearse.” Miki muttered.

Sara elbowed her friend. She did that a lot when it came to Miki.

“Nope. Just a mechanic…and a bathroom.”

“I’ll show her.” Angelina led the girl to the back of the store.

Marrec appeared. Oil and dirt smeared on his face, hands, and T-shirt. The man was supposedly in his 60s but he looked more like a prematurely graying 45. He was shorter than Sara but powerfully built. He had taken Sara under his wing when she was fourteen and had just been thrown head-first through his shop door during a fight that Miki still claimed wasn’t her fault.

“What’s going on?” Marrec stood next to Sara, wiping his hands on a rag.

“Some girl just got into a crash.”

Miki looked out the large glass window, “Christ, look at that girl’s bike. She should be dead.”

Marrec looked at the bike and his eyes narrowed, “She’s walking?”

“Believe it or not,” Sara answered, “Angelina took her to the bathroom.”

Angelina returned to her two friends, “She’s in there now. I’m patiently waiting to hear a thud.”

“I’ll go check her bike,” Marrec muttered as he moved toward the exit.

After about ten minutes, the girl re-emerged. She had cleaned off her face and hands and had rinsed the blood and dirt from her hair. She was an amazingly pretty girl—who looked like she could bench press a Buick.

“Much better.” She announced. She looked at the three women who stared back. “Something wrong?”

“We’re just waiting for you to pass out.” Miki admitted.

The girl grinned, “Mechanic?”

“That’s Marrec. He’s checking your bike now.” Sara glanced out the window, “But, honey, your bike is toast.”

“Ya think?” The girl walked outside. Sara, Miki, and Angelina following behind her.

Sara marveled at how quickly the girl seemed to be recovering. Maybe she was on some new pain killer. She’d have to ask. She might be needing it herself soon.

The girl walked over to the mangled remains of her bike, “My poor baby.”

Sara caught Miki rolling her eyes. She never could understand the bikers’ love of their Choppers. The passion.