Read Online Angels from Hell: A Biker Erotic Romance by A. L. Summers - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: A. L. Summers
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the night. Tomorrow a group of his motorcycle friends will unload the truck into a storage unit I’m renting until my apartment is ready. All for the price of pizza and beer, too.
I follow Charlie as he putt-putts through town on his bike, wondering yet again how anyone can depend solely on a motorcycle for transportation. But then, that’s Charlie. He has always been fascinated with the things. It nearly broke Mom’s heart when he announced he was leaving the family farm outside of Green Bay to move to Asheville to work as a mechanic at a Harley-Davidson dealership.
I haven’t seen Charlie in five years, not since Mom and Dad’s funeral. At the time, I thought it was scandalous when he arrived on a motorcycle. He wore riding leathers with Kings of Chaos burned into the back. The next morning, he was as neatly dressed in a suit and tie. He looked like any of the mourners. I assumed that the day of the funeral was the exception for his attire. When he arrived to help me move, I knew I would see his true self. I expected Dennis Hopper from Easy Rider , but Charlie arrived just as clean cut and even more handsome than the last time I saw him.
I pull into the drive of his townhouse as he backs his bike into the one car garage. He parks it next to another motorcycle. I assume that one must belong to Shep, Charlie’s roommate. As I walk through the garage, I look at the array of tools and the other two bikes. One is a Harley, similar to Charlie’s but not as fancy. The other, turned sideways at the back, is what Charlie calls a crotch rocket. “Whose bikes are these?” I ask as carry my overnight bag through the garage.
Charlie slaps the remote on the wall before taking my case from me. He says, “The other Harley is Shep’s. The CBR1000RR is mine.”
I haven’t the first idea what a CBR1000RR is, other than a Honda. I only know that much because it says so on the tank. It looks like it is doing a 100 mph just sitting there. “You have no car, but two motorcycles?” I query.
“Yep. Cages are for losers,” Charlie says with a grin. “Present company excluded of course.” Charlie swings the door wide and steps into the house. “Come on in,” he says brightly. “Sounds like Shep is home. Let me introduce you.”
I step into the house that looks like a typical bachelor's pad. While reasonably neat, I notice that it could use a good dusting and vacuuming. The house is small with a kitchen, eating area, and family room on the first floor. On the large leather couch sits a good looking man. He is about Charlie’s age with long blonde hair. He is sporting no shirt, dirty jeans, and a plethora of tattoos. He is engrossed in some shoot-em-up video game, playing the game at an ear shattering volume on the largest television I have ever seen.
“Shep!” Charlie shouts.
Shep either doesn’t hear Charlie's shout or ignores him. “It’s okay,” I say, not wanting to start trouble.
Charlie grimaces. “No, it’s not okay! The neighbors are going to complain again.” Charlie strides over and picks up the remote. He turns the volume down to something less than the roar of a passing jet. “Damn it, Shep! Do you want the cops to show up again?”
Shep doesn’t flinch. In fact, he doesn’t even look away from the game. “Fuck ‘em. They’re not home anyway.”
“Shep, let me introduce you to Claire,” Charlie says.
Shep ignores him, twisting and turning with the motion on the screen until the screen suddenly turns a blood red. “Fuck!” Shep snaps in annoyance. “Goddamn it Charlie, you bollixed up my game.”
Charlie ignores his comment. “Jason Shepherd, I would like to introduce you to my sister, Claire Decker. Claire, Shep.”
“Nice to meet you, Shep,” I say, as I extend my hand.
At first I think Shep isn’t going to take my hand, but then he smiles and rises off the couch. “Yeah. Nice to meet you,” he says in a rich
I follow Charlie as he putt-putts through town on his bike, wondering yet again how anyone can depend solely on a motorcycle for transportation. But then, that’s Charlie. He has always been fascinated with the things. It nearly broke Mom’s heart when he announced he was leaving the family farm outside of Green Bay to move to Asheville to work as a mechanic at a Harley-Davidson dealership.
I haven’t seen Charlie in five years, not since Mom and Dad’s funeral. At the time, I thought it was scandalous when he arrived on a motorcycle. He wore riding leathers with Kings of Chaos burned into the back. The next morning, he was as neatly dressed in a suit and tie. He looked like any of the mourners. I assumed that the day of the funeral was the exception for his attire. When he arrived to help me move, I knew I would see his true self. I expected Dennis Hopper from Easy Rider , but Charlie arrived just as clean cut and even more handsome than the last time I saw him.
I pull into the drive of his townhouse as he backs his bike into the one car garage. He parks it next to another motorcycle. I assume that one must belong to Shep, Charlie’s roommate. As I walk through the garage, I look at the array of tools and the other two bikes. One is a Harley, similar to Charlie’s but not as fancy. The other, turned sideways at the back, is what Charlie calls a crotch rocket. “Whose bikes are these?” I ask as carry my overnight bag through the garage.
Charlie slaps the remote on the wall before taking my case from me. He says, “The other Harley is Shep’s. The CBR1000RR is mine.”
I haven’t the first idea what a CBR1000RR is, other than a Honda. I only know that much because it says so on the tank. It looks like it is doing a 100 mph just sitting there. “You have no car, but two motorcycles?” I query.
“Yep. Cages are for losers,” Charlie says with a grin. “Present company excluded of course.” Charlie swings the door wide and steps into the house. “Come on in,” he says brightly. “Sounds like Shep is home. Let me introduce you.”
I step into the house that looks like a typical bachelor's pad. While reasonably neat, I notice that it could use a good dusting and vacuuming. The house is small with a kitchen, eating area, and family room on the first floor. On the large leather couch sits a good looking man. He is about Charlie’s age with long blonde hair. He is sporting no shirt, dirty jeans, and a plethora of tattoos. He is engrossed in some shoot-em-up video game, playing the game at an ear shattering volume on the largest television I have ever seen.
“Shep!” Charlie shouts.
Shep either doesn’t hear Charlie's shout or ignores him. “It’s okay,” I say, not wanting to start trouble.
Charlie grimaces. “No, it’s not okay! The neighbors are going to complain again.” Charlie strides over and picks up the remote. He turns the volume down to something less than the roar of a passing jet. “Damn it, Shep! Do you want the cops to show up again?”
Shep doesn’t flinch. In fact, he doesn’t even look away from the game. “Fuck ‘em. They’re not home anyway.”
“Shep, let me introduce you to Claire,” Charlie says.
Shep ignores him, twisting and turning with the motion on the screen until the screen suddenly turns a blood red. “Fuck!” Shep snaps in annoyance. “Goddamn it Charlie, you bollixed up my game.”
Charlie ignores his comment. “Jason Shepherd, I would like to introduce you to my sister, Claire Decker. Claire, Shep.”
“Nice to meet you, Shep,” I say, as I extend my hand.
At first I think Shep isn’t going to take my hand, but then he smiles and rises off the couch. “Yeah. Nice to meet you,” he says in a rich
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