Hot Wife Summer

“Uncle Jericho, what are you doing here?” I snap back, rising to my feet.

“You think you can run away like this? Your father is looking for you.”

“How did you find me?”

“He has eyes everywhere, little girl.”

I seethe, but a place like this probably has enough scummy people who would rat me out, and my father had no shortage of ‘friends.’

“I’m not going anywhere, Uncle Jericho. I’m twenty, I’m an adult.”

“You’re his daughter, and no number is going to change that.”

“No!”

My plea falls on deaf ears as he pulls me along. I am not strong enough to fight back against him, so he’s giving me the option of walking or being dragged along the ground. Having some dignity, I choose the former. As he pulls me toward the door, I glance around at the crowd, hoping that one of these men will stop this madness, see that I definitely don’t want to go with Uncle Jericho and step in.

In my panic, I see him.

Sharp blue eyes staring my way, thick stubble, brownish red hair, all muscle. He’s a biker, an actual biker, not just a wannabe like Uncle Jericho. He has patches on his jacket and everything. And he’s looking right at me. Despite the peril of my situation, I feel butterflies flutter in my belly. Of all the times to develop a crush.

“Where are we going?” I demand of my uncle. “Dad can’t want me home this bad just so he can yell at me.”

“We got something special planned for tonight, girlie. You’re going to love it.”

I bite my lip as we get out to Uncle Jericho’s beater of a car. He throws open the back door and shoves me in. I contemplate just sliding across the seat, escaping out the other side and running for it, but I know that I could also be riding home in the trunk if I antagonize Uncle Jericho too much.

He gets in the front seat and the car rumbles out onto the highway. The terror inside me is so strong, so potent. I don’t know what Uncle Jericho meant by something special. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to know that I’m not really going to love it, whatever it is.

I look out the back window, imagining a life where I was able to save up enough money to get away from here. Away from my dad and uncle. And I see a single headlight shining right back at me.

Is… is that the hot biker I saw before? Is he following me?

Could I really be so lucky, that he saw me and is coming to my rescue?

3

BLAZE

On the surface? I guess I could have written it off as an angry father being overly controlling of his daughter. My gut tells me it doesn't smell right though. “Capone, you got this, just make sure those two idiots don’t start punching one another again.”

“Sure, man, whatever.” He rolls his eyes. I just gotta have faith something will get through to that boy, because I have somewhere else to be right now.

I head out to the garage where our bikes rest, saying goodbye to the guy playing bouncer outside the bar. “Heading out, Echo.”

Echo cocks an eyebrow. “What’s eating you, Blaze? You aren’t normally the evening joyride type of guy.”

“I’m still not, I’m just seeing something I shouldn’t be seeing.”

He grumbles. “That girl that just came through here? Yeah, I didn’t like the looks of that either. Make sure you give me a call if you need backup, man.”

I climb onto my hog just as that shitty sedan pulls out of the parking lot. They got a bit of a head start but it isn’t ground that my girl can’t make up.

Speaking of girls, her eyes haunt me. As they locked with mine while she was being pulled from the bar, I could see she’s terrified of what’s happening to her. If this was your typical controlling spouse or father, she wouldn’t be this spooked.

I guess it’s all still just a hunch, though, and I’ll be answering to Scar if I just wantonly start throwing fists at bar patrons unprovoked.

So I need to know more. I tail the sedan, and see her peer out the back, giving me sad puppy dog eyes. It is heartbreaking to see on a woman who I only wanted to see smile.

Our path takes us to the outskirts of town, deep into the industrial district, the part full of derelict buildings that haven’t seen workers for over a decade. A collection of cars is gathered around, and lots of men are about. Some of them are in suits, looking like they got lost on their way home from their Wall Street meetings, others looking like the same roughneck brand of guy that I am. Some are in their early twenties, and the ages spread out from there, including some guy who can’t be less than eighty.