Law Man (Dream Man #3)(131)

I shook my head and put my hand to the door that had swung closed behind LaTanya.

“Hawk just showed. I’m walking out the door now,” I pushed it opened, stopping and looking out into the parking lot to locate the others and I saw they were well ahead of me. I started to hasten my step as I walked out the door and went on, “And I’m walking to his truck all by myself.”

Mitch’s voice was trembling with laughter when he asked, “You’re what?”

“I’m walking…”

I trailed off and stopped walking when I heard the screeching of tires close. My head turned to see a car coming into the parking lot at high speed. This shocked me but it also alarmed me because it appeared it was coming right at me. Vaguely, I heard the roar of motorcycles, not one but several. But this didn’t register because seeing that car racing toward me, I didn’t think of anything but getting out of the way.

So I got out of the way, drunk and running on high heels which, by the way, was not easy.

The car came to a screeching halt while curving and cutting me off so I had to stop too as I heard Hawk’s voice shout, “Mara! This way. Run!”

One of the doors to the car opened, a man came out, he was big and scarier than Hawk but not in a good way and I pivoted on my foot and started running toward Hawk.

Another car was coming in at high speed from the other direction. It cut me off from Hawk who was running toward me and I awkwardly had to take last minute evasive maneuvers. My ankle turned, I wobbled and I threw both my arms out to stop myself from going down. My heart was racing, my adrenalin pumping and my mind was blank of anything but surprise and fear.

Then suddenly from out of nowhere there were motorcycles everywhere.

Everywhere.

Shooting through the two cars, all through the parking lot and, as I continued to stagger, one shot right toward me.

Before I could avoid it, I was hooked at the waist by something strong and solid and couldn’t hold back my, “Oof!”

Then my ass was planted in front of the rider.

“Hold on,” a gravelly voice ordered.

“I –”

“Hold the f**k on!” the gravelly voice barked.

Even as we kept cruising, I turned to face him, my arms sliding around his middle. His arm around me went back to the bike handle and he must have given it some gas because we shot out of the parking lot.

Oh God.

What was happening?

“What’s happening?” I asked.

“Keep quiet and stay calm. You’re safe,” he answered as, from my vantage point of looking over his shoulder behind us I saw the rest of the motorcycles line up behind ours.

“Safe? Safe from what? Who are you?” I asked and tipped my head back to see a strong jaw, a partial view of a goatee and longish dark hair curling around a muscled neck and his ear.

“I’m Tack.”

Oh boy.

“President of a biker gang Tack?”

His chin tipped down slightly but not enough for me to get a good look at him before his eyes went back to the road and he muttered, “See Lawson’s told you about me.”

“Uh –” I started.

He cut me off. “Motorcycle club.”

“What?” I asked.

“Chaos isn’t a gang. It’s a club.”

From the firm tone of his gravelly voice sounding over the roar of the motorcycle I noted that, clearly, this was an important distinction.

Right.

“Um…sorry,” I murmured.

“Just keep quiet and hold on,” he ordered and I thought this was good advice seeing as I’d never been on a motorcycle. I also didn’t know you could ride on a motorcycle like this. It didn’t feel very safe though he seemed in command.

Still, probably better if he had nothing to concentrate on but the road and making sure we didn’t crash and die since neither of us were wearing helmets.

We roared onto Speer Boulevard then we turned and roared up University Boulevard then another turn and down we roared on Alameda then another turn and more roaring down Broadway and then we turned into the enormous forecourt of a mechanic’s garage.

He parked in front of a long rectangular building and all the bikes roared in beside us like they practiced this formation often and they were the motorcycle equivalent of the Air Force Thunderbirds.

It was then that I realized somewhere along the way I’d lost my phone and purse.

And I’d been talking to Mitch when it all happened.

“Oh no,” I whispered, staring at Tack’s neck.

“Hop off, chestnut.”

I blinked and looked up at him to see his shadowed face looking down at me.

“What?”

“Can’t get off until you let me go and get off so hop off, chestnut.”

“Chestnut?”

“Your hair,” he grunted. “Now hop…off.”

And it was then I noticed that I still had my arms tight around him. Considering his tone was becoming impatient, I felt it prudent at that juncture to let him go and hop off. So I did that and stood unsteadily beside his bike while his brethren closed ranks.

He threw his leg off, grabbed my hand and started walking with wide strides toward the rectangular building taking me with him.

“Um…Mr., uh…Tack –”