Read Online Steele: Into Your Heart (Carolina Bad Boys #3 by Rie Warren - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Rie Warren
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stopped at the Suck, Bang, Blow, aiming south. Home. Same old. And no chance of a do-over, said Ashe .
I’d lost so many people from my life I wasn’t sure I was ready to let her go. A week of a fucking lot of fucking. Going on runs. Messing around, hanging out. Ashe was easy on the eye, easy company, a career cop with her head on straight even as she screwed with my head.
The Retribution crew motored up to us, throttling their engines.
“So this is where we say goodbye.” I cut off my bike, took off my helmet, and slunk toward Ashe.
She unbuckled her helmet and laid it aside. “One week only, remember?”
“ Uh huh .” I squinted down at her, rubbing my jaw. I was so not fooled by any of her shit.
“Brodie!” she gasped when I pulled her into my arms. “Bike week’s over.”
“Yup. No more nookie after this, I got it.” I oh-so-innocently agreed.
Complete and utter bullshit.
Ashe yammered on about rules and bla bla bla . I played with her hair and nipped the soft skin of her neck.
At the end of her speech, I spread my thighs, hauled her between them, and said, “C’mere. Gimme your lips.”
Chapter Four
Busted
I GAVE ASHE ONE hell of a kiss that went on and on. She didn’t resist. Not one bit. The searing kiss was just a little something to remember me by if she planned on following through with her “only at Bike Week” BS.
After she left me in the roadhouse parking lot with a stupid ass grin on my face, the guys started right in.
“Nice one. Keeping the po-leece in your back pocket.”
“Don’t think it was Brodie’s back pocket she was in.”
“Yeah, but the real question is did she use the cuffs?”
“Or the nightstick?”
Heckle heckle .
“Come to think of it, he was walkin’ a little funny the other day.” Tail tossed his black hair back with a laugh.
I leveled Tail, Handsome, Probie whatshisface, and even Tuck with a glare that silenced them. “You do not talk shit about Ashe. You don’t even think about Ashe. You keep your traps shut about her, the MPPD, and her and me. And you do not mention this to Boomer when we get home. Got it?”
Talk about a total change in attitude concerning the woman. Hated her sight unseen a week ago. Went absolutely rabid when anyone talked smack about her five days later.
Like the schmucks they were, the four dudes stared at me with straight faces while they mimed zipping their lips shut.
I gave a double middle finger salute and a grin. “C’mon, dickheads. Let’s roll. Keep it shiny side up.”
It was another pristine day. Our motorcycles ran beautifully. We rode in loose formation with Probie as the tail gunner. We weren’t the only club returning to real life as we took route 17 through Pawley’s Island and Georgetown. The road rumbled with bikers shouting to each other, nodding, giving the thumbs up.
A perfect run but instead of the usual blank-slate state of mind riding usually gave me, I couldn’t get Ashe Kingston out of my head. Her smile. Her laugh. Her lips wrapped around my dick. The way she’d put my boys in their place, not to mention Leta.
One by one, we parted ways from the outskirts of McClellanville into Mt. Pleasant until the road belonged solely to me. And my thoughts.
As fate would have it, the Steele family house stood in the center of the Old Village, about a freakin’ stone’s throw away from Josh and Leelee Stone. Ours was a rambling cottage style house with a sweet deep water dock on the Cooper River. Boomer and I kept the place up—the siding pressure washed twice a year, the lawn mowed, flowers fucking pruned.
Man, I still remembered the summers Boom, Cat, and I ran around the Old Village with our gang of friends. We’d had it so damn easy.
It was hard to sneak in while riding a twin-cam Harley, especially in an otherwise quiet neighborhood. Cutting off the engine, I rolled up the brick-laid driveway and past my old school ’83 Chevy pickup. I’d bought the black beast in high
I’d lost so many people from my life I wasn’t sure I was ready to let her go. A week of a fucking lot of fucking. Going on runs. Messing around, hanging out. Ashe was easy on the eye, easy company, a career cop with her head on straight even as she screwed with my head.
The Retribution crew motored up to us, throttling their engines.
“So this is where we say goodbye.” I cut off my bike, took off my helmet, and slunk toward Ashe.
She unbuckled her helmet and laid it aside. “One week only, remember?”
“ Uh huh .” I squinted down at her, rubbing my jaw. I was so not fooled by any of her shit.
“Brodie!” she gasped when I pulled her into my arms. “Bike week’s over.”
“Yup. No more nookie after this, I got it.” I oh-so-innocently agreed.
Complete and utter bullshit.
Ashe yammered on about rules and bla bla bla . I played with her hair and nipped the soft skin of her neck.
At the end of her speech, I spread my thighs, hauled her between them, and said, “C’mere. Gimme your lips.”
Chapter Four
Busted
I GAVE ASHE ONE hell of a kiss that went on and on. She didn’t resist. Not one bit. The searing kiss was just a little something to remember me by if she planned on following through with her “only at Bike Week” BS.
After she left me in the roadhouse parking lot with a stupid ass grin on my face, the guys started right in.
“Nice one. Keeping the po-leece in your back pocket.”
“Don’t think it was Brodie’s back pocket she was in.”
“Yeah, but the real question is did she use the cuffs?”
“Or the nightstick?”
Heckle heckle .
“Come to think of it, he was walkin’ a little funny the other day.” Tail tossed his black hair back with a laugh.
I leveled Tail, Handsome, Probie whatshisface, and even Tuck with a glare that silenced them. “You do not talk shit about Ashe. You don’t even think about Ashe. You keep your traps shut about her, the MPPD, and her and me. And you do not mention this to Boomer when we get home. Got it?”
Talk about a total change in attitude concerning the woman. Hated her sight unseen a week ago. Went absolutely rabid when anyone talked smack about her five days later.
Like the schmucks they were, the four dudes stared at me with straight faces while they mimed zipping their lips shut.
I gave a double middle finger salute and a grin. “C’mon, dickheads. Let’s roll. Keep it shiny side up.”
It was another pristine day. Our motorcycles ran beautifully. We rode in loose formation with Probie as the tail gunner. We weren’t the only club returning to real life as we took route 17 through Pawley’s Island and Georgetown. The road rumbled with bikers shouting to each other, nodding, giving the thumbs up.
A perfect run but instead of the usual blank-slate state of mind riding usually gave me, I couldn’t get Ashe Kingston out of my head. Her smile. Her laugh. Her lips wrapped around my dick. The way she’d put my boys in their place, not to mention Leta.
One by one, we parted ways from the outskirts of McClellanville into Mt. Pleasant until the road belonged solely to me. And my thoughts.
As fate would have it, the Steele family house stood in the center of the Old Village, about a freakin’ stone’s throw away from Josh and Leelee Stone. Ours was a rambling cottage style house with a sweet deep water dock on the Cooper River. Boomer and I kept the place up—the siding pressure washed twice a year, the lawn mowed, flowers fucking pruned.
Man, I still remembered the summers Boom, Cat, and I ran around the Old Village with our gang of friends. We’d had it so damn easy.
It was hard to sneak in while riding a twin-cam Harley, especially in an otherwise quiet neighborhood. Cutting off the engine, I rolled up the brick-laid driveway and past my old school ’83 Chevy pickup. I’d bought the black beast in high
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