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  Biker Escape

  Flash Fantasy No. 2

  Quinn Peachwood

  Quinn Peachwood is the author of the Flash Fantasies series of short novellas, perfect for a quick bite of steamy goodness.

  She loves a good road trip, sampling local food and cocktails, shopping for vintage and best of all, meeting readers.

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  Five years i've been gone

  But now Im back and my MC Biker Brothers are coming to get me.

  Then I see a lone girl in the night, looking like she too is on the run and my interest peaks along with other untamed parts of me.

  When some thugs happen along I have no choice but to protect her. I'm a dog but I'll never allow a woman to be harmed while I stand aside.

  This sweet angel in my grasp is hotter than the 4th. Her flesh sears my skin like the holiday BBQ.

  I expected to return to my club and get a beer in one hand, a Pass Around in the other. Along comes Raven, hair and eyes black as the night, to overturn my world.

  She's trouble but I need to possess her, no matter the cost.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Epilogue

  Thank you for reading Flash Fantasy No. 2

  Also by Quinn Peachwood

  1

  Raven

  I need to stop running right now or my thighs are going to burn themselves up. My legs feel weak from the exertion and I guess, the adrenalin pumping through the muscles. I stop for a second, well, I slow to a brisk walk, constantly looking back over my shoulder every second or two.

  A noise behind me pushes me to pick up the pace, into an exhausted jog. My limbs may be close to exhaustion but my heart pumps harder and faster with any little sound behind me.

  I cannot be captured again.

  “If you try to get away from me again I’ll kill you.” Trev had told me the last time I attempted an escape and was dragged back by his men, literally by the hair.

  Anyone with less of a drive toward self-destruction might have chosen the safe option. Staying with the gang and putting up with being used like a prostitute every night of the week. Trev is the leader of the London Devils gang, ‘a Brit exile’ he calls himself.

  Not your typical gang leader - all muscles, tats and stubble. No, Trev has white blond hair and is lanky lean. But his slender frame hides taut sinew with incredible strength. He can hold me down with one hand as he inflicts a certain kind of pain with the other, usually with the aid of some tool that he calls ‘my little toy’.

  “I weren’t always a bad ‘un.”

  He husked in my ear one night he was feeling his version of tender toward me, after being particularly brutal with his instrument.

  “Effing government turned me, them and the bastards that own all the property in London. Put the rent up whenever they feel like it and made me homeless. People what can’t afford a place to stay get dumped in prison. Buy hey-ho, once I was in there I learned a trade, innit?”

  “Slave trade.” I muttered before I had time to stop myself.

  I cringed back into the sheets, expecting a hard slap at the very least.

  “Yeah. And just as profitable as ever, innit?” Trev snickered, with deep self-satisfaction.

  Like he was some self-made entrepreneur who just won Shark Tank or something. The scar from the side of his mouth to his ear lobe seemed to flex and leer.

  “Even more so when you’re your own boss with no one else to answer to.”

  From what I gathered from his boasting, Trev had become the right hand man of some gangster while inside. And when he got out, he was put in charge of the teams snatching girls off the street in East European countries, as well as tourist destinations like Spain.

  They roamed up and down late at night, in vans with double doors across the back, searching out lone victims. The doors opened up wide and allowed them to drag the women inside before they were even aware they’d been targeted.

  Once they had twelve girls, or more often twenty, because Trev was greedy and didn’t care that twenty women were living on top of each other in a vehicle barely six by ten, without a window, they made the run to Britain.

  “You gotta be smart in business.” Trev informed me, like I cared, with a tap to his temple and a wink of his cruel eye. “With a new customs barrier the transit of goods and services is gonna be nigh impossible, innit?”

  He laughed hoarsely, congratulating himself on his smarts. “But the United States - well, easy enough to grab ‘em in some shithole state and take ‘em thousands of miles away where no one knows ‘em or gives a damn where they went.”

  I’d swallowed down a sigh and a lurch of disgust that rose in my stomach. Part toward him, mostly for myself. Because I wasn’t one of the snatched. I’d become a prisoner after meeting Trev in a bar and going home with him willingly. Full self-destruct mode in operation.

  If I’d had a knife or any other suitable weapon close to hand right then, I’d have stabbed him through the gut and watched them spill out to the floor. I hate violence in every form but the world needs to be rid of men like Trev.

  But even if’ a weapon had been lying around, Trev was far too strong for me. He’d have taken it and pinned me down with zero effort.

  My punishment would have been worse that I could have even imagined - worse than his ‘games’ with me whenever he felt especially out of control and needing to feel his power once more. Whenever he went for his ‘toy box’ I knew I was going to suffer.

  I shudder and push my thighs into action, picking up the jogging pace to put more distance between myself and Trev’s place. Being on the other side of the planet wouldn’t be far enough away from him and I know he’ll hunt me down, just for the thrill of it.

  Just to let me know who’s boss and who’s chattel. That was a word he liked to use on us - I’d never heard it before but it basically means property - something owned by someone else. At first I thought he said cattle - which amounts to the same thing, I guess. ‘Cow’ was another word he liked to use on women he was pissed at.

  My head runs on with these stupid thoughts, just like it used to play the same snatches of song over and over. A sign of stress I figure. My lungs are burning as hard as my thighs now but I push myself on harder.

  I can’t let Trev’s men find me out on the road like this.

  I need a place to hide.

  But he positioned his hideout well, out in an industrial area, away from any town with homes or stores. I haven’t passed a single dwelling and I have no clue whether there’s any place I might find shelter up ahead. I’m terrified of staying out in the trees where I might run into bear, or snakes, or huge bugs. All of which give me the creeps.

  A light glows on the horizon and my heart sinks. Sunrise already? I can’t believe I’ve been running that long. Daylight will make it much easier for the gang to locate me.

  I keep running, half stumbling, my legs threatening to buckle under me if I don’t give them a break.

  And then I see the light is blue and green as well as the orange glow. No sunrise ever beamed green as far as I’m aware. Either aliens have landed, I’m delirious from exhaustion or that’s a building up ahead.

  I pant my way up the incline in the road and stagger into the small parking lot, like a marathoner in the last mile. Trees border one side o
f the almost empty lot, a strip of three battered buildings lines the other. I double over, hands on my knees to gasp at oxygen my lungs are crying for.

  Once my breathing starts to calm, I lift my gaze to check out my options.

  My heart sinks when I see a strip joint, a brutal looking biker bar, and a ratty old gas station. A neon sign in front of the strip joint blinks on and off in different colors, half the letters blown out - my fake sunrise.

  “Oh great.” I huff out, still bent over catching my breath. “Frying pan into fire.”

  Because call me biased, but I can’t see how I’m going to find much help and support from the patrons of a strip club and a biker bar. I’m considering my next options, which seem beyond dismal at this point, when a trio of dudes appear in the parking lot.

  One look and I know I’m in danger yet again.

  “Is that a girl?” One of them says to his buddies.

  “Duh. You had so much to drink that you can’t make out a fine female form?” Another replies.

  “Maybe seen too much titty tonight.”

  “No such thing as too much titty.”

  Three throaty laughs fill the lot. As I suspected, the health and safety of my body is not any better off now than it was at Trev’s.

  “Hey where you going?”

  One of the men, each of them at least three hundred pounds and over all the limits, shouts in my direction as I scurry toward the tree line for cover.

  “Don’t be like that. Come and play nice with us. We’re your friends.”

  Shit. They aren’t going to their cars as I’d hoped.

  One of them, the biggest and drunkest, is lurching across the lot in my direction. I withdraw deeper, trying to hide behind a tree trunk which even though I’m skinny, isn’t doing a great job of camouflage.

  What do I do?

  Run into the forest and try to shake them off? Hope they’re too liquored up to bother with me beyond the initial approach. It’s always like that in bars when guys come on to you - they give up if it takes too much work. Except for the ones that get angry at your refusal of their advances. Those are the dangerous ones.

  These guys, all in leather, look like they could be of that variety.

  I pull back deeper into the dark cover even though it terrifies me, all the noises and shifting movement within the forest. I really do not want to spend the night in here. It’s the stuff of my nightmares.

  “Come on Baby.”

  “Come play nice with us.”

  “We’ll treat you right.”

  The three aren’t giving up and are bearing down on the trees, stumbling and lurching toward me. All my determination flies out of my body. I’m too tired to run again. My brain is in freeze mode, anticipating the worst - a new round of torturous abuse.

  “Come to Daddy, Sweet Girl.”

  Oh god, they seem to be revved up by the chase. I feel like some fawn transfixed, waiting to be taken down. They aren’t more than twenty feet away from me.

  My heart won’t take much more pounding. Every goosebump is lifted all over my body.

  Ten feet.

  I screw up my eyes tight, like I did as a child hoping that would make it all go away.

  Fat fingers of a hand comes around my upper arm, gripping firmly there. I part my lips to scream, knowing it’s hopeless. But before I emit a sound, a thick finger comes down over my lower lip. My eyes bat open and grow wider.

  I’d expected to see one of the stunted men of rotund stature to be leering at me in triumph, having caught me. But this stranger is not one of the three. Nope, he’s way too good-looking to be a part of that motley crew.

  “Shhh.” His delectable full lips move into an almost silent injunction to me to keep quiet.

  His eyes read the same and he holds my gaze as transfixed as my limbs were a few moments ago. My heart is racing even harder now and the goosebumps are still climbing along my arms but the fear seems to have gone, to be replaced by…. can it really be tingling attraction?

  As the man pulls me deeper into the undergrowth, his fingers dig into my scrawny arm. He tugs me close so that my back goes into his chest, lining the length of him as his palm clamps over my mouth. He didn’t need to do that, I would have kept quiet as he ordered but I guess he wants to make sure.

  Even though I can’t see his face now, it’s imprinted on my mind. The dark eyes, with an almost haunting look buried in their depths. Not crazy haunted, more like he’s suffered.

  But maybe I’m projecting my own life onto him, out of necessity, out of desire for a soul mate, someone to share the crap emotion roiling through me.

  “Stay quiet now.” He breathes against my hair.

  I feel its heat on my ear and down the side of my neck and it makes my back prickle. A thrust of heat moves through my body straight to my clit which is expanding eagerly between my inner folds.

  What in hell is wrong with me that I’m thinking raunchy in a situation like this?

  I don’t even know this guy or why in the world he’s hiding out in the forest. Creepy at best. Perhaps he’s an even worse option than the three lumbering bikers, or even Trev. But none of those men have the looks of my stranger.

  The full mouth, those lingering eyes, the close-cropped hair that gives him the look of a military dude, someone that could protect you always.

  He’s just the right amount of tall, I can lean the back of my head into his shoulder and with a solid chest wall if I’m not mistaken, judging by the strength of support at my back.

  I breathe a quiet sigh into the stranger’s palm and feel myself relax into his arm and torso.

  “Good girl.” He husks, his lips in my hair.

  2

  Crew

  I had no business plucking the girl out of the trees like that. Other than the fact that she was drawing undue attention in my direction and if I’m not mistaken, which I never am in cases like this, certain danger to herself.

  “You got some kind of death wish?” I hiss under my breath against the side of her head, listening intently for the footsteps coming closer.

  “You could say that.” She snarls softly in reply.

  Well, who am I to critique her on that count? I know how it is to live recklessly, with no regard for your life or your self. At least I used to.

  Things should be different now. Which means I really don’t want to start off a new day and a new life with having to put three goons out of their misery. Not for some girl I’ve never seen before who had no business roaming around alone in this part of the world.

  I heard her arrive of course, saw her bend double to catch her breath, panting like she’d been on the run for a week. She looked too scrawny, her hair hanging limp, but when she lifted her head to scan her surroundings, I saw her pretty young face and the fire of survival burning in her eyes.

  I know that look. The look of the hunted, determined to run free. I’ve lived with that look for too long. I’d have saved her even if she hadn’t become the instalove interest of a bunch of drunkards.

  A sharp click echoes through the trees and the girl stiffens in my arms. We both recognize the unmistakeable sound of a gun hammer being cocked. These idiots are not backing down. It seems my decision to avoid trouble came too late.

  She arches her back, writhing a little as though the position we’re locked in is uncomfortable. I pull her tighter into me with a jerk, silently letting her know to stay still and stay quiet.

  But the brush of her ass against my pelvis sends a roar of heat through every one of my limbs. My cock springs up with a ravenous hunger I haven’t felt in years.

  I shut my eyes tight and squeeze down on every muscle in an attempt to force the sudden lustflash out of me. Now is hardly the place, even if I was the type of dude to take a woman I don’t know.

  My focus needs to be on getting rid of the douchebag hunters without any violence, not on dipping inside a cute girl I happened to pick up one night in a forest.

  The girl trembles in my arms and her em
otion moves across my skin. The need to hold her safe along with covering her naked body with my own intermingles. The heat in my cells intensifies so I’m certain she must feel it. Still the desire courses through me, threatening to overwhelm my resistance.

  Wouldn’t that be amusing - the three stooges arriving to find their mark already in use.

  Fucking genius idea.

  I whip her around in my arms and push her back up against the trunk of a tree. She lets out a little gasp because my hand had moved away from her mouth.

  “Over here.” One of the douches shouts to his buddies.

  The girl’s breath comes hard as I clamp my hand back over her quivering lips. I pin her to the tree with my bulk and loosen my belt. Her eyes catch hold of mine and plead wildly, begging me not to.

  I look away, unable to communicate to her in the few seconds that remain.

  I drop my jeans around my thighs. I’m commando as always - I grew to hate doing laundry these last years - so my bare butt is hanging out in the wind.

  I’m praying this last minute idea works out because if not, this girl and me, we’re both toast.

  Behind me two of the slobs trundle up, imagining they’ve found their victim. Neither is holding the gun, thank fuck. The smiles drop from their faces as they see me with the girl pinned down under me and my pelvis taking its pleasure inside her.

  “Can’t a guy get a little privacy with his woman?” I bark at the two disappointed louts back over my shoulder.

  “Hey, sorry Dude… we thought…”

  “Yeah? What did you think?” I growl.

  The heaviest of the three, the one holding an already cocked gun, staggers up to join his buddies.

  “Nothing.” One of the first two says, grabbing his bud’s wrist to lower the firearm. “Sorry.”