Read Online Burning Down the House (Skull Crackers Motorcycle Club) by Marissa Knight - Free Book Online

 
    Burning Down the House
     
    Well, Jake was gone – again. After six years of marriage, Melanie Craven was tired of her husband going to Afghanistan. He was a civil servant, for God’s sake; he didn’t have to go over there. But he took off every chance he got to go help train soldiers on the equipment. It was old now. She was worn out from worrying about him for months on end. She was lonely most nights, especially now that she was living in a motel. Maybe it would be easier once she had her own home to care for while he was gone.
     
    Melanie glanced over at the house in progress set on eight acres of land in the middle of nowhere. Theirs was the first house to be built in this subdivision, and there wasn’t another building for about a half a mile. The exterior walls had just been installed when all work had come to a screeching halt. Why? was the only question she’d had for the builder. His answer: His mother was gravely ill, and it would be at least two weeks before they could continue on the job. Well, she really couldn’t deny him taking time off because she herself was moving to be closer to her mother.
     
    Now, as she stood there watching his newer model truck leave a cloud of dust on the dirt road, she heard a rumbling sound that grew louder until a gang of motorcyclists soared by on the highway about a half-mile away.
     
    Her mind wandered down the road with the bikers. If only she could just pick up and leave like Jake did, like the bikers did. But she had commitments – like her job and visiting her mother in the nursing home in town. If there was nothing else people could say about her, they always admitted that she kept her commitments. And, of course, she had Jake. Loyalty meant everything to her; it wasn’t just a word in her vocabulary. Still, just once, she would like to abandon everything and have an adventure, even if it was just a short adventure. She was desperately tired of being the “good girl.”
     
    Melanie sank onto a temporary wooden step leading to the front porch. Dammit , she thought, at least two extra weeks in a motel. She would go absolutely stir-crazy. Yes, she had her part-time job and her mother, but the rest of the time would be torturous on her sanity.
     
    Two motorcycles roared past on their way into town, and Melanie absently wondered if they were from the gang who had just gone by in the other direction. Maybe somebody had forgotten something. Maybe they had changed their minds about where they were headed. Or maybe they were just two cyclists out for a Friday ride, possibly starting the weekend early.
     
    Melanie rose and wandered toward her old, nearly worn-out Jeep Wrangler that she used only to go to and from the building site. Starting it, she pulled out of the long driveway onto the dirt road which led to the main highway. On the way into town, the Jeep began to sputter so she shifted into a different gear. Then the engine cut off altogether. Glad that she didn’t have an automatic transmission, she guided the disabled vehicle to the shoulder of the two-lane highway.
     
    Without hesitating, Melanie called the American Automobile Association for a tow into town. She knew nothing about cars, so there was no use in even trying to check under the hood. Instead, she leaned back the driver’s seat and closed her eyes to rest until the tow truck got there.
     
    A few minutes later the sound of motorcycles approaching again blazed into her ears. She absently wondered why, all of a sudden, there were motorcycles all over the road when there rarely were before. Maybe it was just because the weather was warming now that spring had arrived. Damn! The engines of the motorcycles stopped. That could only mean one thing: they wanted to see if they could help her. If she ignored them and pretended to be asleep, maybe they would go away.
     
    “Excuse me, miss.” The man’s voice was deep and silky and almost made Melanie open her eyes. “Miss? Are you