Page 38 of Ready Or Not

An instant flash of heat and anger fills me. I see what he’s doing. He’s going to try and paint me as distracted. As the one making bad decisions because of my wife. He’s going to try and take over my spot, using Riley as an excuse.

I hang up the phone, stuff my pistol into my pants, then stalk downstairs. Grabbing my bike keys, I pause.

I should check on her. Just to make sure.

Opening my tracker app, I check Riley’s second bike. It’s still showing at her place.

See. Still home.

But still, I open my app to the trail cam I have on her house.

There’s an error code.

What the fuck?

I watch the last footage I have. It’s from an hour ago, and it looks like the camera just shuts off. I watch it again. There’s a slight movement from the back door and the flash of something.

Slowly, my blood boils. She took out my camera.

That little bitch.

I can’t help the thrill that runs through me. Oh, I’ll have fun punishing her for this little stunt.

This better be worth it, Mrs. Kennedy, ‘cause I’m about to make you regret ever defying me.

I send a message off to Jeremy to put a bullet through Seb’s skull, then jump on my bike to get my wife and the pretty little side piece she’s claimed.

17

Enemies - The Score

I cling to Riley’s body as we fly down the road. I’ve never ridden a bike before, and it’s terrifying. My whole body vibrates with the power of the engine. Riley tried to explain the leaning and counterbalancing to me, but eventually, she just told me to hold her and not to touch the “fucking gun,” or she’ll “send us both to hell.” She said that part with a smirk.

Riley guns the engine, and I’m forced to hold her tighter. My arms are wrapped around her simultaneously toned and soft stomach while trying to keep them off the pistol. We’re easily doing a hundred down the empty roads.

I’m so close to her. Pressed into her. I know she can feel every inch of my tits against her back. I try to move so she doesn’t feel them, but she just swerves, making me grab hold of her tighter. She repeatedly reaches back and squeezes my thigh, and when we slow for a turn, she yells at me to hold tighter. She doesn’t want a bump to make me fly off.

As the scrub trees whip by, for a tiny second, I feel exhilarated. We’reflying.

Touch it,my intrusive thoughts whisper.Touch the gun.It’s like standing on the edge of a cliff when your mind says to jump.

I inch my hands higher on Riley’s torso so I don’t even brush it. But that pushes my hands into her soft and plump tits, which makes a surprising jolt of heat run through me.

Touch it, touch it, touch it. The words repeat in a pretty cadence in my head.

No. I’ll run when we get to town. There will be people there to help.

I find myself grateful for the helmet ‘cause Riley’s hair is whipping back in my visor constantly. I look over to my left to try to lean out of it. Riley finally starts slowing while we’re still in the country. Slowly, I unplaster myself, and she immediately whips to the left.

I squeal, gripping onto her. When I unpeel my eyes, we’ve pulled into a driveway to a small but fancy house.

Riley stops.

“Where are we?”

Riley giggles. “No need to shout. I can hear you.”

I flush. Everything in this helmet sounds muffled.