Read Online Broken Crescent (Devil's Sons Motorcycle Club Book 2) by Kathryn Thomas - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Kathryn Thomas
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people like you and Bionca it would seem like they’re trying to control me.”
“A lot of relationships spring up out of lust. Most parents want to make sure their kids never get hurt, never get heartbroken, and never know sorrow. Culture aside, that’s what your mom and pop are trying to do for you by ensuring you make a connection with someone based off of something more tangible than that tingly feeling you get when you desire someone, and that’s understandable. That said, I want to make sure this is the real deal, too. I’m breaking a lot of my own rules here. I don’t usually do serious relationships.”
Sam’s lips were curved in a half-smile. It was a bit of an understatement. He didn’t do serious relationships period. Sam had gotten accustomed to keeping around a nice, regular lay but nothing with strings attached. The minute he had met Afia, everything had changed for him. Suddenly, he could see himself enjoying her company long term. Even when they had broken up for two weeks, he hadn’t moved on to easier conquests. He had thrown himself into racing and his motorcycle club, but not into another woman’s bed. In his mind, that said a lot about Afia. Any woman who could keep his attention like that was a keeper.
Afia was impressed by his line of thinking and flattered at the lengths he was taking to accommodate her parents without them even knowing. Her eyebrows knit over her nose in slight confusion. She really couldn’t see anything about the man that her parents wouldn’t love—except that he wasn’t Muslim. “You know what I think?” she murmured in wonder, laying her head on his shoulder. “I think I might fall in love with you.”
“Might?” he chuckled. “Damn, I think I’m already there.”
***
Sam arrived at home earlier than he had intended, having dropped Afia off at her place around seven to finish something for class. He walked into his ranch house and dug out his cellphone. He had a few missed calls. As a man who found it impolite for a person to entertain an electronic device more than his date, Sam made a habit of turning his off when he was out with Afia.
But, as he scrolled through the list, he noticed Quentin had called him numerous times over the course of the evening. Sam quickly hit the redial button to call him back. “Wassup, man?” he responded at the sound of Quentin’s hurried hello.
“I’ve been trying to get in touch with you all evening. Man, Tokyo got arrested. Cop said his bike was stolen.”
“I thought that chick, GeeGee, bought it for him.” Sam reached for his keys and headed back out the door.
“Yeah, that’s what I thought, too. According to Manga, turns out him and Tokyo won it in a race against some knucklehead who turned around and reported it stolen.”
“I’m on my way to you now.”
CHAPTER 8
It was a hot, sticky night, but the breeze felt terrific from the back of a motorcycle, and Sam and the rest of The Devil’s Sons, minus Tokyo, descended on the Widow Maker’s compound, preceded by the sound of their bikes. Sam skidded in the dust outside the hangar tucked to the side of a rundown farmhouse in the middle of nowhere. It was bad business taking the fight to the enemy’s turf, and he knew that, but he didn’t have time to follow proper protocol.
Sam hopped from the back of his ride as soon as he slid to a halt and put it in park, stomping angrily up to the hangar doors. He banged on the metal with his fist. “Reiken!” he yelled out. Kaleidoscope joined him as the doors swung open and light fell upon them from inside. The Widow Makers was a ladies’ motorcycle club, and Kaleidoscope was gearing up for a cat fight.
The leader of the rival gang stood at the threshold with her manicured nails digging into thick hips, her tight jean shorts encasing muscular thighs. Wearing nothing but a bra under a brown bomber jacket, her tousled blond hair fell around her
“A lot of relationships spring up out of lust. Most parents want to make sure their kids never get hurt, never get heartbroken, and never know sorrow. Culture aside, that’s what your mom and pop are trying to do for you by ensuring you make a connection with someone based off of something more tangible than that tingly feeling you get when you desire someone, and that’s understandable. That said, I want to make sure this is the real deal, too. I’m breaking a lot of my own rules here. I don’t usually do serious relationships.”
Sam’s lips were curved in a half-smile. It was a bit of an understatement. He didn’t do serious relationships period. Sam had gotten accustomed to keeping around a nice, regular lay but nothing with strings attached. The minute he had met Afia, everything had changed for him. Suddenly, he could see himself enjoying her company long term. Even when they had broken up for two weeks, he hadn’t moved on to easier conquests. He had thrown himself into racing and his motorcycle club, but not into another woman’s bed. In his mind, that said a lot about Afia. Any woman who could keep his attention like that was a keeper.
Afia was impressed by his line of thinking and flattered at the lengths he was taking to accommodate her parents without them even knowing. Her eyebrows knit over her nose in slight confusion. She really couldn’t see anything about the man that her parents wouldn’t love—except that he wasn’t Muslim. “You know what I think?” she murmured in wonder, laying her head on his shoulder. “I think I might fall in love with you.”
“Might?” he chuckled. “Damn, I think I’m already there.”
***
Sam arrived at home earlier than he had intended, having dropped Afia off at her place around seven to finish something for class. He walked into his ranch house and dug out his cellphone. He had a few missed calls. As a man who found it impolite for a person to entertain an electronic device more than his date, Sam made a habit of turning his off when he was out with Afia.
But, as he scrolled through the list, he noticed Quentin had called him numerous times over the course of the evening. Sam quickly hit the redial button to call him back. “Wassup, man?” he responded at the sound of Quentin’s hurried hello.
“I’ve been trying to get in touch with you all evening. Man, Tokyo got arrested. Cop said his bike was stolen.”
“I thought that chick, GeeGee, bought it for him.” Sam reached for his keys and headed back out the door.
“Yeah, that’s what I thought, too. According to Manga, turns out him and Tokyo won it in a race against some knucklehead who turned around and reported it stolen.”
“I’m on my way to you now.”
CHAPTER 8
It was a hot, sticky night, but the breeze felt terrific from the back of a motorcycle, and Sam and the rest of The Devil’s Sons, minus Tokyo, descended on the Widow Maker’s compound, preceded by the sound of their bikes. Sam skidded in the dust outside the hangar tucked to the side of a rundown farmhouse in the middle of nowhere. It was bad business taking the fight to the enemy’s turf, and he knew that, but he didn’t have time to follow proper protocol.
Sam hopped from the back of his ride as soon as he slid to a halt and put it in park, stomping angrily up to the hangar doors. He banged on the metal with his fist. “Reiken!” he yelled out. Kaleidoscope joined him as the doors swung open and light fell upon them from inside. The Widow Makers was a ladies’ motorcycle club, and Kaleidoscope was gearing up for a cat fight.
The leader of the rival gang stood at the threshold with her manicured nails digging into thick hips, her tight jean shorts encasing muscular thighs. Wearing nothing but a bra under a brown bomber jacket, her tousled blond hair fell around her
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