Blood Bond book number three in the Mike McDonald Action Adventure Saga are now on pre order at amazon.com and smashwords.com Read the first two chapters here for freee.
Gavin McMillan turned his, Lincoln Continental Mark II onto Baker Street, in the Bronx at two fifteen AM. A light snow fell from the sky, he had the heater on and he had the collar of his Armani coat buttoned up close to his neck but still he shivered from the cold. Glancing at his face in the rear view mirror, Gavin took in his wrinkled features, his receding hair line and the age spot on his left cheek. His gray eyes looked tired and his face looked haggard, but he didn’t think he looked too bad for sixty five. He puffed on a Luck Strike cigarette, smoke filled the driver’s compartment and he let out a wheezy cough. God I hate coming down to the Bronx at this time of night, he thought. Especially on a night like this. If people would mind their own business, this type of thing wouldn’t be necessary.
Driving through one of the seedy sections of the Bronx, he pulled over to the curb and parked in front of Baker Street Tattoos, which set next to an Irish pub, known as the Paddy Shack. A green neon light in the window flashed an image of a four leaf clover to the outside world. A scrawny red headed young man with a scruffy goatee wearing baggy pants, a worn wool coat and a watch cap stood in front of the tattoo parlor dancing back and forth on the balls of his feet. When he saw McMillan pull up, he stepped off the curb, opened the passenger door, a blast of cold air filled the vehicle, and he sat down in the front seat closing the door behind him.
Rubbing his hands together to keep warm, the scrawny young man said, “It’s a hell of a night to be out and about Mr. McMillan. I trust that you brought the money?”
“Half now and half when the job is done, as agreed,” McMillan said.
“This lad sure must have done something to get under your skin.”
McMillan’s hands gripped the steering wheel tighter. “That’s not you business, O’ Grady. Do what I am paying you to do and don’t ask questions,” McMillan said.
O’ Grady put his hands in the air. “Take it easy Pops. I was just making conversation. When the Baker Boys take on a job, we get it done and we don’t talk about it.”
“Look, Shawn, I also want your boys to trash his house. I want his computer, and any CD ROM disk that you find and any paper files with the firm’s logo on them.”
“We’ll get it done. Tomorrow’s Monday, we should have this wrapped up by Wednesday. I’ll be expecting another envelope filled with cash by Friday,” O’Grady replied.
“Make yourself available next Saturday evening around midnight. We have another shipment coming in. I’ll need three or four of your boys to unload the stuff and then I want your boys to put it out on the street as quick as you can. I want to make a quick turn around on this one so we can all make some fast money.”
“Are we meeting at the usual place?” O’Grady asked.
McMillan paused watching the tiny snowflakes hitting the windshield. “Yeah, and Shawn, if you screw me on either one of these deals, your dead,” McMillan said.
Shawn chuckled. “I told you Pops, when the Baker Boys take on a job, we get it done, but that goes both ways. If you leave us hanging out to dry, it could become a very explosive situation. You know how us Irish lads like things that go boom,” Shawn said and then laughed.
Glancing at the flakes of snow falling off of O’Grady’s body getting the custom leather front seat of his Lincoln wet, anger surged through McMillan. He handed over an envelope filled with cash. “Here’s the first half of your money. You’ll get the rest when the job is done and I have the merchandize that I requested now get the fuck out of my car you’re making a mess.”
Shawn O’Grady took the money and then sighed, not wanting to get out of the warm vehicle. “See you later Pops,” he said and then stepped out to the curb and slammed the door. McMillan pulled away from the curb, caught the nearest onramp to the interstate, his windshield wipers barely clearing away the snow, and headed for his high dollar home on Stanton Island while snow fell onto the streets of New York City.
The beeping sound of the alarm on his cell phone woke John David McDonald from a sound sleep. The first thing he noticed, before he opened his eyes was the tingling sensation in his arm. The second thing he noticed was the pleasant sensation of a female breast in the palm of his right hand. He opened his eyes and smiled, taking in the naked form of Connie Brooks sleeping next to him in his California King sized bed, in the bedroom of his Manhattan apartment. He pulled his arm from underneath her and leaned back taking in her beauty. He admired her shapely back, her long raven dark hair, the swell of her breasts and her tanned muscled yet soft body. He glanced at the small butterfly tattoo on her shoulder. Good Lord am I ever glad that I took Mike’s advice, back when I was helping him out of that bit of trouble in Nebraska and contacted her on the web, he thought. She has been a ray of sunshine ever since she arrived.
His thoughts drifted to his soon to be ex wife Nicole, who was in the process of suing him for divorce along with custody of his two kids and was living in his two story house in Long Island. He had been in a deep funk since Nicole kicked him out of the house and separated him from his kids, but having Connie here had let some happiness back into his life. When he found her on the web and then called her, he didn’t think they would hit it off. Having her come to New York City for a visit had been one of the best decisions that he had made in quite a while. It had taken his attention away from his bitter divorce, as well as the unpleasantness down at the firm. John David sighed. That is something I have to deal with today. I hope it doesn’t get too ugly, he thought. Anger shot through him. Why couldn’t Gavin had just kept things on the up and up? It’s not like we’re not making enough money. Now the firm is in jeopardy. John David slid out of bed, crossed the bedroom in the nude and headed to the bathroom down the hall. Goose bumps formed up on his exposed flesh. He stepped into the shower, turned up the hot water, and let the invigorating water chase the fogginess of sleep from his brain. He had been in the shower for about a minute, when the bathroom door opened. Connie Brooks stepped into the shower with him. She didn’t say a word she just pressed her succulent body up against his and kissed him. Their tongues touched, John David felt himself growing hard and his hand found her left breast. Connie’s nipple hardened under his hand.
They stood there kissing under the hot water prolonging the embrace, and then Connie pulled away. She turned around bent over slightly pressing her ass up against his crotch and said, “Do me in the shower.”
She positioned herself, granting him access; he guided his stiff member into her moist center and did what he was told. Connie Brooks let out a squeal of ecstasy as John David slammed into her from behind bringing her to a quick orgasm. She fell against the shower wall, her legs weak and barely able to stand when they were through. “Thank you Sir. I needed that,” Connie said, and then turned around and kissed him again.
“So did I,” John David said. “You just put a bright spot in what is going to be a very bad day.”
“Why don’t you just call the police?” Connie asked.
John David sighed. “I want to give him a chance to do the right thing. He hired me when I was fresh out of law school and made me his partner. It’s sad that it has come down to this.”
“I am sure that whatever happens, you’ll be able to handle it. You’re strong. When you get home, I’ll put some more sunlight in your day,” she said and then kissed him again.
Finished in the shower, they dried off John David took a blue robe from the hook on the bathroom door and handed it to Connie and took a brown one off the hook for himself. “How do pancakes, fried bacon and eggs sound for breakfast?” he asked.
“It sounds wonderful,” Connie said and put on her rode. “But do you have the time?”
“I’ll take the time,” he said.
Finished in the bathroom, they stepped out into the hallway. “I’m going to go get dressed,” Connie said and retreated into the bedroom.
“I’ll start breakfast,” John David replied. He headed into the kitchen and draped his bathrobe over a barstool at the breakfast bar. He crossed the kitchen, took a white apron from a hook on the door of the broom closet and put it on. Connie came back into the kitchen, catching him bent over with his ass in the air retrieving a flat of eggs from the refrigerator. She let out a giggle, stepped up behind him and gave him a playful slap on the ass. John David stood up, holding a flat of eggs in his hands and turned around facing her. “Have a seat, my dear. Breakfast will be in about ten minutes.”
Connie, now dressed in a pair of tight designer jeans and a gray sweater, sat down at the breakfast bar to watch the show. “I must be special. It’s not every day that I have a naked man serve me breakfast,” she said and laughed.
John David grinned. “I’m not naked. I’m wearing an apron,” he replied.
“Might as well be,” Connie said.
John David took a frying pan from a lower cupboard and went to the refrigerator to retrieve the bacon. Connie admired his bare ass when he bent over to get the frying pan. He started a pot of coffee, poured a pitcher of orange juice and fried the bacon. Soon the smell of frying bacon and fresh brewed coffee filled the kitchen.
“What made you decide to get in contact with me?” Connie asked.
“A few weeks ago I went to Nebraska to help my brother Mike out of a jam. While he was in jail, we talked. He mentioned having lunch with you and your girl friends at Denny’s after he came back from the war. He said that you asked about me and that I should look you up on the web.”
“I remember that day. Sharon was there. After that, they started hanging out and then got married. It’s terrible what happened to them,” Connie said.
“Yeah that really messed Mike up. He’s still not over her,” John David said.
“I remember that he looked real handsome in his uniform.”
“You might not recognize him if you saw him today. He’s changed. Not just his appearance but his personality as well,” he said.
“For one thing, he rides a Harley now. He hangs around with bikers, hell he is a biker. He’s a bit rougher around the edges, a bit more serious.”
“I can understand that. You can’t have something happen to you like what happened to him and Sharon and it not change you. Then there’s what he did afterward,” Connie said.
John David sighed. “Tell me about it. It’s still hard to believe that he took on an entire outlaw motorcycle club pretty much by himself, but what’s hardest for me to believe is that he’s not in prison,” John David said. He finished cooking breakfast, set a plate down in front of Connie, and poured them each a cup of coffee and a glass of orange juice. Taking a stool from her side of the breakfast bar, John David took it around the bar and set it down where he could sit facing her while they ate.
“These eggs are delicious. What happened in Nebraska?” Connie asked.
“They were holding him on a trumped up murder charge. There was this woman, a Mrs. Chandler who owned a ranch. She had a section of land down by a river and this local real estate developer wanted it. She didn’t want to sell, so the guy hired some Irish and Italian gangsters to put some pressure on her to sell. Mike called up his biker buddies and they went to war. Again, I am surprised he didn’t wind up in prison.”
“Mike always had a kind heart. He reminds me of you in that way, but when we were kids it seemed like you were the one always getting into trouble,” Connie said.
“Yeah, until we got older. What Mike did to help that Chandler woman was a good thing. He might be rough, but you are right. He does have a good heart; just don’t try to hurt any of his friends or family. Then he’ll kill you. He has a low tolerance for assholes.”
Connie giggled. “Do you remember that time when we all went skinny dipping at City Creek?”
He laughed and took a bite out of a piece of bacon. “How could I forget? It was one of the highlights of my youth.”
“I had such a big crush on you after that. I am glad you listened to your brother and reached out to me,” Connie said and smiled.
“Me too. These past few days have been outstanding. You’ve put some happiness back into my dreary life.”
Connie reached across the breakfast bar and took his hand. “Your life’s not dreary. You’re a high dollar attorney; you have a nice house and a nice apartment. You’re just going through a rough a patch right now,” she said.
John David sighed. “A nice house that my soon to be ex wife is going to take.”
“So what? Once you get this business settled at the firm and put your nose back to the grindstone, you can buy another house. And now you’ve got me,” Connie said. She leaned across the breakfast bar and kissed him.
Finished with breakfast John David said, “I guess I’d better get these dishes done then head down to the firm.”
Connie stood to her feet. “You go get dressed. I’ll do the dishes.”
He went to the bedroom, picked himself out a blue leisure suit from his closet and then dressed. Stepping back out into the living he waited until Connie had finished the breakfast dishes and said, “I hate leaving you like this, but this is something that can’t wait.”
“I know. You can’t just stop your life because I’m here.”
“While I’m gone you could either watch TV or take a subway down to the village and do some shopping. I’ll be back in a few hours,” John David said.
“I’m a big girl. I can entertain myself. I might head back to the bedroom and finish that romance novel that I was reading. Take all the time you need. I’ll be here when you get back.” John David stepped up to her she kissed him he pulled her close breathing in the smell of her perfume prolonging the kiss. They broke the embrace, said their good-byes and John David stepped out the door.
Heading back into the bedroom, Connie paused looking about the room and noticed John David’s cell phone sitting on the night stand next to his bed. “Shit. He forgot his cell phone. Maybe I can catch him before he gets to the elevator,” she said to herself. She dashed across the room, grabbed the cell phone and ran to the front door. In the hallway of the apartment building, she ran down to the elevator but John David had already taken the elevator down to the parking structure. “Shit,” she said and hit the down button hoping to catch him in the underground parking garage before he left for work. Inside the elevator she breathed in a slight smell of tobacco smoke as the elevator descended to the parking garage.
When John David stepped out of his apartment door, he had some extra pep in his step and a smile on his face. He couldn’t remember when he had felt this happy. I need to call Mike and tell him about this, he thought. He headed to the elevator whistling a snappy tune while he swaggered along. He hit the down button on the side of the wall at the elevators. The elevator doors slid open; he stepped inside and pressed the button for the parking garage and then took a pack of cigarettes from his coat pocket. He took his Zippo from his pants pocket and fired up a smoke. His stomach dropped as the elevator descended to the parking garage. When the elevator reached the bottom, the door slid open and John David stepped out. He crossed the parking garage to his BMW, climbed in the vehicle and started it up. Looking up, he saw Connie step out of the elevator and wave her arms at him to get his attention. John David opened the driver’s side door, climbed out of the vehicle and started over to see what she wanted. He took three steps; the BMW exploded showering the bottom floor of the parking structure with flaming debris. The explosion propelled him forward, he felt a sheering pain shoot through his head, his vision went white and then he slipped into unconsciousness.
I left Cedar Glen Nebraska with mixed emotions. I left behind some friends, including a woman that wanted more than I was able to give, but I also left a piece of my heart. How could I settle down with a good woman when I was still in love with my dead wife? My wife Sharon and I had lived in Southern California and we were going on our first vacation. We took my Honda Gold Wing and we stopped off at this biker bar on the old route sixty six and got ambushed by an outlaw bike club who called themselves the Lost Souls. They raped and killed Sharon, shot and stabbed me, and left me for dead. That was their mistake. After waking up from coma that I had been in for three months, I regained my strength and went to war. I almost single handedly wiped out an entire motorcycle gang, but in Green River Wyoming, I met the Green River Boys who helped me with my war against the Souls. I now consider the Green River Boys my brothers.
After the dust cleared, I started back to Southern California to rebuild my life, but somewhere on the road, I realized that I had nothing to go back to, so I turned around and headed back to Wyoming. After partying with the Green River Boys for a few weeks, I headed east. I have a brother in New York City that I wanted to see, and there was also some unfinished business with a woman I met while I was in the hospital in Cap Rock Utah. She was a nurse. She wanted me to give up my vendetta against the Souls, but that was something I couldn’t do. After my war with the Souls was over I rode down there and went to the hospital to see her, but she had quit her job and took a job at a hospital in New York City. When I left Wyoming that was the plan: to head to New York City.
When I came home from the Persian Gulf War I thought that I had left the violence behind, then those bastards raped and killed my wife, so I went to war. After that I headed east looking for a little bit of peace, but trouble has a way of finding me. This time it came in the form of a woman with coal dark hair by the name of Christine Chandler. She had a ranch in Cedar Glen Nebraska, and she had her back against the wall. When I first laid my eyes on Chris, I immediately put my personal plans on hold. There was a land developer, some worthless bastard named Tom Boxer who wanted a section of her land and Chris didn’t want to sell. He thought that by rustling her cows, hiring some Irish and Italian gangsters to intimidate and harass her that she would sell. What he didn’t count on was me and the Green River Boys. Once again I went to war and in the process, Chris and I grew close, but then there was my dead wife Sharon. Like I said, I was still in love with her. I guess I always will be.
I hit the I 80 heading east on a cold December morning, twisted the throttle and put my face in the wind kicking the speed up on the old 1984 Shovel head up to seventy five miles an hour. The weather felt chill, but I had on a good set of leathers and there wasn’t a cloud in the sky. That soon changed. After I crossed the border into Iowa I noticed a dark cloud in the distance. I saw lightning flashes and I felt a drop of rain hit my cheek, but I put my head down and motored on down the road. A light rain fell from the sky, which quickly increased in its intensity to the point where gumball sized drops were pounding me like an unloved step child, water covered the road and I couldn’t see because my glasses kept fogging up. When I lowered my glasses, the rain drops hit me in the eyes, semi trucks flew by me drenching me with water. It was to the point where it was too dangerous to be on the interstate on two wheels and I was looking for a place of refuge. I noticed an exit coming up and I saw an old Baptist church on a side road fronting the interstate. I took the exit, made a right turn then another quick right and headed down the road to the church. I pulled into the parking lot, crossed a grassy area and pulled the Harley up onto the church’s front porch and parked the Harley under a covered awning. Shivering from the cold and feeling like a wet dog, I set the bike on its side stand. I climbed off and took off my wet clothes. I draped them over the bike to drip dry and then took my duffle bag off the bike and changed into a dry set of clothes. Taking off my boots, I changed my socks and hung the wet ones over my handed bars to dry. Rain drops dripped down onto the front fender. I put on a fresh pair of socks, emptied the water out of my boots and then put them back on.
“This is just fucking great,” I said staring out from under the awning watching the rain. I took a cigar from my vest pocket, took a Zippo from my pants pocket, made flame and lighted the cigar. My hands shook from the cold. Water pooled up in the grass next to the front porch. I took my bible out from my saddle bag and sat down on the porch leaning my back against the church’s front door and started to read. Some people might have thought it strange that I would sit here in front of a church reading the good book considering all the things I’d done and my violent past, but if you’ve ever read the book then you know that God did his own share of killing back in the day. Sometimes God uses people as his sword of vengeance, I thought and settled in to read. I had barely read a chapter when I heard the sound of a motorcycle pulling off the interstate. A woman rolled into the church parking lot, she had on a black novelty helmet, a black bandana over her face, a long sleeve red flannel shirt, jeans and black boots. She was soaked to the skin. I stood up, motioned to a spot on the front porch next to my bike and yelled, “Pull up here!”
She pulled the bike up on the porch, killed the motor and set the bike on its side stand. “Good Lord that rain is coming down hard,” she said and climbed off the bike, dripping water onto the porch. She took off her helmet, hung it on her handle bars and then took off her bandana revealing the pretty face of a woman in her early fifties. She had dark brown hair and green eyes.
“It sure is. Let me turn around so you can change out of those wet clothes.”
She let out a chuckle. “I’m not shy,” she said and started unsnapping her vest. I turned around anyway out of respect. She hung the vest on the handle bars, took off her shirt and pants along with her bra and panties. She draped everything over the bike. Her boots and socks came off next. I heard her rummaging around in her saddle bags after she dried off with a towel and then put on another set of clothes. “You can turn back around now,” she said.
When I turned back around, I noticed that she had on a dry pair of jeans, a white wife beater tee shirt and she wasn’t wearing a bra. Her nipples pushed up cotton stretching the fabric of her tee shirt. She bent over, putting on a pair of tinny shoes. When she stood back up I stepped forward extending my hand and said, “My name’s Mike McDonald.” We shook. I breathed in a faint trace of perfume.
“My name’s Shannon Stacy Shannon,” she said. Noticing my cigar, she said, “You wouldn’t happen to have another one of those would you?”
“Sure,” I said, handing her a cigar from my shirt pocket and my lighter from my pants pocket. She fired up the cigar and tobacco smoke lingered in the air. Taking her in, in a glance, I admired what I saw. She had a hard, lean body for a woman in her fifties, plus a beautiful face to go with it. He hair, tied back in a ponytail hung down to her ass. “Where are you headed to Stacy?” I asked.
The weather felt chill because of the rain, Stacy went to her gear back, took out a light jacket and put it on. “I’m headed out to California to see my daughter and grand babies,” she said. “She lives in Riverside. It’s in Southern California.”
“I used to live close to there, over in East Highland, which is just east of San-Bernardino,” I said.
“How about you? Where are you headed?” she asked.
“I’m heading east to New York City to visit my brother. It’s a cold time of year to be riding a motorcycle in this part of the country,” I said.
“Tell me about it,” Stacy replied. “When I come home I’m taking the southern route. I might visit some friends down in Alabama.”
“The old boys I ride with have a couple of chapters down there,” I said.
Looking at my vest hanging over my handle bars she said, “The Green River Boys. I’ve heard of them. They’re some good people. I ride with the Gypsies. We’re a family club. The chapter I’m with is in southern Indiana where I’m from. I glanced at the patch. The main patch depicted an old Gypsy wagon with a motorcycle parked behind it. It had a top rocker that said, the Gypsies and no bottom rocker.
“Aren’t you afraid of traveling all that way on a motorcycle by yourself?” I asked.
She laughed. “No, for one thing, I am a black belt in Chinese Gung Fu, but then I have this,” she said pulling up her shirt. She had a compact forty five in a holster clipped to the inside of her pants.
“Remind me not to piss you off,” I said and laughed.
Stacy chuckled and said, “You said you were from California originally Where do you live now?”
“I’m in transition right now. I had some business in Idaho and Wyoming, spent some time in Sturgis for the rally then I stopped in Nebraska for a while. I’m on my way to visit my brother in New York City. After that I thought I might head down to Florida.”
Stacy’s eyes widened. “I heard of you. You’re that guy who went to war with the Lost Souls.”
I sighed and said, “Those bastards raped and killed my wife.”
“I lost my husband last year to a motorcycle crash. That’s what we did together. Ride motorcycles. Now I ride alone. This was his bike.”
I took in the 1989 Harley Davidson Soft Tail Custom. It was painted black with red flames on the tank. “That’s a sweet bike,” I said.
“It never gets any easer, does it?”
“What?” I asked.
“Losing a spouse.”
“Not for me,” I said.
“Do you mind if we sit down? My dogs are getting tired,” Stacy said.
“Not at all,” I replied.
We sat. Stacy pulled a flask from the pocket of her jacket and said, “Care for a hit of this? It’ll take a little edge off the cold.”
“What is it?” I asked taking the flask.
I smiled. “There ain’t nothing wrong in this world that a hit of Jack won’t make better.” I took a hit from the flask, took a puff from my cigar and blew smoke rings across the porch. We passed the flask full of Jack back and forth lost in conversation, enjoying each other’s company. The next thing you know, the flask was empty and we were sucking face. We made out on the front porch of the church for a while and then fell asleep in each other’s arms. We were both beat down by the rain and the road in needed a break.
Sunlight hitting me in the face woke me two hours later. I had my arm around Stacy’s body with my hand on her right breast. Her nipple hardened to my touch. Stacy softly snored while she leaned up against me. I breathed in her fresh womanly sent. Stretching, I turned loose of Stacy’s breast and let out a moan. Stacy began to stir. “Wake up Sunshine. It quit raining,” I said.
Stacy stretched and pulled away from me. “Good Lord. That nap felt good. I was tired,” she said.
“So was I,” I replied. We stood up. I took a couple of trash bags from my saddle bag and handed one to Stacy. “Here. For your wet clothes,” I said.
“Thank you,” Stacy replied.
We put our wet clothes in a trash bag rolled everything up tight and packed everything back onto our motorcycles.
“If we’re gonna make any miles today, I guess we’d better leave,” I said.
Stacy took a business card from one of the compartments on one of her saddle bags. It was from a nail salon in Bedford Indiana. “Give me a call if you’re ever in Bedford,” she said and then kissed me. Her lips taste of cherry flavored Chap Stick. “It was nice meeting you Michael McDonald.”
“It was nice meeting you too, Stacy Shannon, but you can call me Mike. We climbed into the saddle, fired up our motorcycles, and motored off the porch. We had to put our feet down when we crossed the wet grass to the church parking lot. From there we headed out to the road and back up to the interstate on ramps. I hit the onramp heading east and Stacy took the west bound onramp continuing on her journey to Southern California.
I rolled on the throttle trying to make up for lost time. The weather stayed, cool but the rain, when it came was manageable. I stopped only when I needed gas then after filling up I took a quick smoke break and got back on the road. I crossed the Illinois border and motored on. I took a quick lunch break and then continued. The wind buffeted the bike, beating me like a piñata at a ten year old’s birthday party. The temperature dropped my hands felt numb and chills shot up and down my back. I called it good, twenty miles west of Chicago as the sun went down over the Midwest.
I pulled into a Holliday Inn and parked my bike under the awning next to the lobby. Killing the motor, I put the bike on its side stand, took off my gloves and rubbed my hands together to regain some feeling. A young dark haired woman went by and smiled. “I must be cold out there on that motorcycle,” she said.
“I about froze my ass off,” I replied.
She smiled. “Sorry for you luck,” she said and then entered the motel.
I climbed off the bike, lumbered inside and stopped for a few seconds enjoying the warm air. I took in the plush green couch and love seat in the lobby along with the TV in a massive entertainment center. The blast of warm air brought some life back to my cold old bones. I stepped up to the counter. A young woman with long red hair and blue eyes smiled at me and said, “Can I help you?”
“I’d like a room,” I said.
“Smoking or non smoking?” she asked.
“Smoking,” I said, “and I’d like a room with a window that looks out over the parking lot.”
“Did you ride in on that motorcycle?” she asked.
“Yes I did,” I said.
“Then you can park the motorcycle right where it is under the awning. Make sure that it is parked up close to the curb so other vehicles can get past it,” she said.
“Thanks that will be fine,” I said breathing in her fresh young scent.
“You will be in room 302 up on the third floor. The elevators are to my left. The cost will be sixty five dollars,” she said.
I handed her my credit card, she charged my card and gave me my room key. “Is there somewhere close where I can buy some beer and some munchies?” I asked.
“Turn right going out of our parking lot and there’s a conveyance store that will have everything you need. It’s about two blocks down.”
“How about somewhere to eat?” I asked.
“The motel had an excellent, Mexican restaurant. It’s called, Santana’s Place. The food is great and you get a ten percent discount if you are staying at the motel.”
“Thanks. Mexican food sounds great,” I said.
“We have a continental breakfast that starts at six thirty AM and last until ten AM. We also have an indoor pool and spa that stays open until ten PM. Thank you for staying at West Side Holliday Inn.”
I motored down the street to the conveyance store, swaggered inside and headed to the beer cooler. I took out a six pack of Bud, grabbed a big bag of potato chips and some other munchies and headed to the counter. A pimply faced young kid behind the cash register rung up my items and said, “Will there be anything else for you?”
I looked over his shoulder at the cigars in the display case. “I’ll have five of your Thompson’s and a cutter,” I said.
He took the cigars out of a box rung up my purchases. He bagged everything up and I gave him two twenties. He gave me my change and said, “Thank you for shopping at Snappy Mart.”
Outside I hung the bag over the handle bars of the bike and motored back down to the motel. I headed up to my room; put everything away including all of my gear from the bike and then took a quick shower. Finished in the shower, I changed clothes and then headed down to the restaurant just off of the lobby. The hostess, a young pretty Hispanic woman showed me to my seat. Several people sat at tables throughout the restaurant. A few minutes later, a young Hispanic waiter brought me some chips and salsa plus took my drink order and left me a menu. I ordered a Bud Light. I thumbed through the menu and decided on the two enchilada meal with beans and rice. I gazed about the restaurant people watching while I waited for them to bring my food. Fifteen minutes later, they brought me a big steamy plate filled with enchiladas, beans and Spanish rice. “Enjoy,” the waiter said when he set the plated down in front of me.
“It looks delicious,” I said and dug in with gusto. One thing about spending all day riding a motorcycle is that you are hungry when the day is done. The food was some of the best Mexican food that I had ever eaten and that surprised me, because from what I had heard the Mexican food in the Midwest wasn’t as good as what we had in California. Finished with my meal, I headed back to my room and changed into my swimming trunks. I grabbed my beer, my munchies along with my cigars and headed down to the indoor pool and Jacuzzi. I had the place to myself, so I eased my tired old body down into the hot bubbling water, popped the top on a beer and fired up a stogie. I had just settled back to enjoy myself when a strikingly beautiful young woman who couldn’t have been any older that twenty one or twenty two stepped up and said, “Do you mind if I join you?”
I took in her luscious frame, her pretty face, her long blonde hair that cascaded down both sides of her large breasts which her tiny yellow bikini top could barely contain. Her body tapered down to a thin waist, then flared out to a wide set of hips attached to a pair of long sensual well toned legs. I smiled and said, “Be my guest.” As she slipped into the water, I took in the tiny v of yellow cloth that called itself a bikini bottom. It was obvious from the lack of material that she had to keep the house pretty clean down there.
“Aw that water feels magnificent,” she said and settled down into the water until everything was covered but her neck. Noticing my beer, she said, “Do you mind if I have one of those?”
“Not at All. Have some chips and some licorice if you want,” I said. Grabbing a beer, I leaned across to hand it to her, she rose up and leaned forward to meet me half way and I got lost in the deep valley of cleavage between her breasts. I felt a stirring sensation inside my swimming trunks and my heart rate intensified. She sat back down in the hot tub. Noticing the direction of my gaze, she gave me a mischievous grin. Tiny dimples formed in her cheeks when she smiled. “I’m Mike McDonald,” I said.
She said, “I’m Erica, Anderson.” We stood up, shook hands and then we both sat back down. “Nice tats,” she said taking in the tattoos on my upper body as well as the scars. “Did you ride in on that Harley?” she asked.
“Yeah, I’m heading to New York City to see my brother,” I said.
She popped the top on her beer and said, “I’m heading home to visit my parents in Hoboken New Jersey. I’m taking a couple weeks off from college. Do you mind if I sit over there with you?”
I grinned. “Not at all,” I replied.
She crossed the hot tub, took a seat next to me and then laid her hand on my thigh. She stroked my thigh for a few seconds, then reached between my legs and grabbed me. My heart did a drum roll. She stroked my hardness for a few seconds then whispered, “I don’t know why I’m doing this. You’re almost old enough to be my dad.”
“But I’m not,” I said. She let go of me then straddled me, pulling my head down and put her breasts in my face. She worked her hips back and forth rubbing her female parts against my crotch. I reached up, cupped her breasts enjoying their softness, and then lifted up her top exposing her breasts. She leaned forward, I took a nipple in my mouth, she let out a soft little moan and then I heard the door to the pool and spa area swing open. “Why don’t we take this up to my room?” I said.
“Yeah, it’s a little too public here,” Erica said. She pulled her top back down we climbed out of the water, and gathered our things. Erica dried off, put on a white tee shirt over her bikini, wrapped her hair in a white towel and we headed back into the motel. Inside the elevator, Erica pressed her succulent body up against mine and kissed me. I enjoyed the feeling of her hard young body pressed up against mine and felt something rising in my lower regions. Reaching behind her, I pulled up her tee shirt, pulled down her bikini bottoms and cupped her shapely ass.
When the elevator door opened on the third floor, I pulled her bottoms back up, we stepped out of the elevator and I led her down to my room. Using my key card, I opened the door and we stepped inside.
“I need to pee,” Erica said and headed into the bathroom. While Erica was in the bathroom, I put the beer in the refrigerator and set our things on the table next to the TV. I heard the water running in the bathroom, the toilet flushed and then the water went off. She stepped back out of the bathroom, wearing only the white tee shirt. “Your turn,” she said shooting me a smile.
“I won’t be long,” I said. Stepping into the bathroom, I noticed her towel and her bikini lying on the floor. I took a quick piss and then washed my hands. Stepping back into the room, I noticed Erica lying on the bed on her stomach. She had the tee shirt pulled up exposing her bare bottom, and believe me that got my attention. When I approached the bed, she rolled over spreading her legs. She had a tiny strip of hair between her legs running up her pubic mound, but other than that, it was a bare runway.
She ran her hand down her stomach to her vagina, spread the folds apart and said, “I thought maybe you’d like to eat your desert first.”
“Most defiantly,” I replied. Climbing onto the bed, I laid down put my head between her legs and dived in for a box lunch. Erica’s breathing accelerated and she let out a squeal. After a minute or so, she rose up, I backed off and she pushed me down on the bed. She went to the foot of the bed; cat like, she climbed onto the bottom of the bed, pulled my swimming trunks down and my manhood sprang free. She grabbed hold of my shaft, gave it a few strokes and then went down on me for a couple of minutes. She straddled me and then flung off her tee shirt. Reaching down between her legs, she grabbed hold of my manhood, and then lowered herself down onto my hard shaft. For the next fifteen minutes, she road me hard, bringing me to the brink, and then slowed her rhythm. Her breasts bounced up and down in my face. She let out several little moans as she increased her tempo. My heart hammered inside my chest and it was all I could do to keep up and hold on.
“Oh God, oh fuck!” she said, and then went rigid as waves of orgasms passed through her. I held out for as long as I could, but finally I exploded inside her. She collapsed onto my chest and I put my arms around her. I felt physically drained, but I had a smile on my face. “Oh God. You wore me out,” Erica said.
“I wore you out? I’m lucky you didn’t give me a heart attack,” I said and then let out a chuckle.
Erica jumped up, bent down, grabbed my hand and said, “Let’s go take a shower.”
She led me into the bathroom, we stepped into the shower, I turned on the water and she pressed her naked body up against mine and kissed me. Our tongues touched, her nipples felt rock hard against my chest and I reached around grabbing her behind and pulled her to me. I enjoyed lathering up her trim body while we made out in the shower. Ten minutes later, we stepped out of the shower and back into the room.
Erica turned on the TV, found a channel playing cartoons and climbed in between the covers leaning against the headboard of the bed with her breasts exposed. “Bring the munchies, and the beer,” she said.
“Yes my dear,” I replied. I took two bottles of beer from the fridge grabbed the bag with the munchies inside and set them on the nightstand next to the bed. Tom and Jerry was playing on the boob tube. I handed her a beer, took one for myself and crawled in next to her. She snuggled up next to me and took my arm. That’s how we spent the remainder of the evening: drinking beer and eating licorice in the nude while watching cartoons and I enjoyed every minute of it, especially when she did a bit of exploring under the covers with her hand. I leaned back, put my arm around her and a big smile spread across my face. At that moment in time, all seemed right with the world.
A woke up at six AM with my arms trapped under Erica’s body and my hand clutching her right breast. My stiff member was pressed up against her backside and for an instant I just laid there enjoying the sensation. I watched the rise and fall of her breasts for a few seconds, but an urgent need to pee caused me to pull my arm from underneath her and I headed to the bathroom. After pissing like a race horse, I stepped into the shower and turned the water on as hot as I could stand it. The cascading water cleared my head. A couple of minutes later, the bathroom door opened, I heard Erica use the toilet. Finished on the toilet, she opened the shower door and stepped inside to join me. “Good morning Sweet heart,” I said.
“Good morning Sir,” she said and then kissed me. After lathering up each other’s bodies for a few minutes and then rinsing off, I turned the water off and we stepped out of the shower. Erica dried herself off with a towel then put on her bikini bottoms and then her tee shirt. “I’m going to go to my room and put on some clothes. I’ll meet you down in the lobby in a half hour for the continental breakfast.”
“That sounds like a plan. I’m so hungry that my stomach thinks my throat’s been cut,” I said, “and I have an urgent need for some caffeine.”
Erica laughed and then kissed me. After that she was out the door. While I was drying off, I thought about the past night’s escapades and smiled. Erica was an adorable young woman. She was a little too young, but that didn’t bother me. Age is just a number, I thought. Finished in the bathroom, I dressed and headed for the elevator. The smell of fresh cooked food caused my stomach to rumble when I stepped into the dining room, to the left of the lobby. I headed for the coffee pot, poured myself a cup and sat down at a table. Erica hadn’t made it down from her room yet and I figured that I would wait for her before starting breakfast. I settled back in my chair, gazing out the window took a tentative sip of my coffee and let out a contented sigh. I watched the travelers come down from their rooms to breakfast and I was on my way to get my second cup of coffee when Erica entered the room. She saw me and smiled. For a fraction of a second I just stood there taking in her beauty. She had her hair down and wore a blue sweater that clung to her body and a tight fitting pair of jeans that looked as if they might split at the seams if she moved the wrong way. “I saved us a table,” I said, motioning to the table near the window. “I was just gonna get another cup of coffee. Do you want a cup?”
“Yes please. One cream and two sugars,” she said. I poured the coffee and took the cups to the table. “Everything smells so yummy,” she said, taking my arm and we headed to the serving line. I loaded my plate down with eggs and bacon along with biscuits and gravy. Erica had some pancakes with maple syrup. We took our food to the table and sat down. Erica took a sip from her coffee cup and said, “About last night?”
“What about it?” I asked.
She looked down at her hands resting on the table. “You don’t feel wired about it do you?”
“Hell no,” I said looking her in the eye. “Do you?”
“No, I just thought that you might because you’re so much older than me,” she said.
“We are both consenting adults. Who gives a fuck what people think? I like you, and I enjoy your company. I do feel a bit flattered though. What made decide to come on to me?” I asked.
She shrugged, leaned back studying me and said, “I don’t know. There’s just something about you that I am attracted to. I’m glad you don’t feel wired about because I like you too.” She took a piece of paper from her back pocket and handed it to me. It was ripped off the small pad of the motel’s stationary that they put in the rooms on the nightstand by the bed. She had written her phone number on it. “Here’s my number. Give me a call when you get to New York City. Let’s hook up again,” she said.
I folded the paper and put it in my back pocket. “I’d like that,” I said.
We started eating. Erica took a bite of her pancakes, which were smothered in maple syrup and said, “These pancakes are amazing.”
I reached across the table and wiped a tiny drop of maple syrup from the corner of her mouth. “I just might have to try a stack after I finish this,” I said and dug into my biscuits and gravy. Fifteen minutes later, we both leaned back rubbing our bellies. I had indeed finished one plate and went back for a short stack of pancakes. “You were right. Those pancakes were amazing, but I think if I eat another bite, I might pop.”
“I know,” Erica said and smiled. “I don’t usually eat this much. It must have been all the exercise I got last night,” she said and laughed.
I laughed. “Maybe so. I know I worked up an appetite. That was the first time I was ever in bed in a motel naked with a woman drinking, beer, eating licorice and watching cartoons. It was fun,” I said.
Erica laughed “As you get to know me better you’ll find that I’m not like your average girl.”
“I’m finding that out already,” I said.
“What’s on the agenda for today?” Erica asked.
“When we’re done here I am going back to my room to pack my things and hit the highway,” I said.
“We could travel together. You could follow me on your bike, or I could follow you,” she said.
“That will work,” I said. “We’re still about eight hundred miles from New York City . We could stop somewhere in between and find a nice motel for the night,” I replied.
“That would be good. Let’s pack our things and then checkout. I’ll meet you in the lobby. I need gas before we hit the turn pike though,” Erica said.
“Me too,” I replied.
We rode the elevator up, Erica got out on the second floor and I rode up to the third. I packed my gear and then headed back down to the lobby. The weather outside was overcast and a bit chilly. I was out attaching everything to my bike when Erica stepped out the door carrying two small traveling bags. “Did you check out?” I asked.
“Yeah, I’m ready to go,” she said.
“Me too. There’s a gas station across the street. Follow me over there,” I said. I motored out to the street and Erica followed behind me in her small car. When the traffic cleared, I crossed the street and pulled up to the gas pumps. Erica pulled up to the pump behind me. Breathing in the smell of gas fumes, I filled up Erica’s Toyota first and then filled up the old shovelhead. I was about to turn around and go back to Erica’s car to tell her something about our travel plans when I stopped dead in my tracks. Standing in front of my bike was the ghost of my dead wife Sharon. My heart jack hammered inside my chest and for a second, I couldn’t catch my breath. The air temperature seemed to drop a couple of degrees. She wore a white tank top, cut off jeans and flip flops, looking much like she did in life. She had a serious look on her face.
“Hurry Michael, Johnny needs you,” she said and then disappeared. Goose bumps formed up on my exposed flesh and a shiver shot down my spine.
I pulled out my cell phone and called my brother’s home phone. There was no answer, so I tried his cell. The voice of a distraught woman, who sounded as though she had been crying, answered the phone. I recognized the voice when she said, “Hello.” It was a voice from my distant past.
“Connie? Connie Brooks?” I asked.
“Yes, this is Connie,” she said.
“This is Mike McDonald. What’s wrong Connie?” I asked.
“It’s Johnny. We’ve been talking on the phone and on line. He invited me out here for a visit. Someone tried to kill him yesterday. I’m here at the hospital. He’s in a coma,” she said and her voice began to crack.
“What happened?” I asked pacing back and forth.
“It had something to do with his partner at the firm. There was some problem with the books. When he went to go into the firm yesterday morning, he forgot his cell phone and I rushed down to the parking garage to catch him. When he saw me, he put the car in park and stepped out to meet me. The car exploded, throwing him across the parking garage. He has a head injury. I’m here all alone, Michael. I went back to the apartment to change clothes and come back to the hospital, but when I got there, someone had trashed the place. I don’t know what to do, Michael.”
“Where are you now?” I asked and stopped pacing.
“I’m at the hospital,” Connie said.
“What hospital?” I asked.
“The New York Presbyterian in lower Manhattan.”
“Look Connie. Stay there. I am about twelve hours away. I’m on my way out for a visit. Let me make a call and I’ll call you right back. I am going to get some people down there to help you. Don’t be afraid when you see a group of hairy bikers swagger in like they own the place,” I said.
“I won’t Michael. They have two police men guarding the door to Johnny’s room.”
“I’ll call you right back, Connie,” I said.
I cut the connection and then called Big Al, the national president of the Green River Boys in Green River Wyoming. Big Al answered on the second ring.
“Hey Bro what’s up? We just got back to Wyoming this morning.”
“Al, I’m outside of Chicago. I called my brother’s cell and his girl friend answered. He’s in the New York Presbyterian in lower Manhattan. Someone tried to kill him last night. They put a bomb under his car and someone trashed his apartment. He’s in a coma. His girl friend is at the hospital alone and afraid. Her name is Connie Brooks. I need people there ASAP. I’m still at least twelve hours away,” I said.
“Say not more, Bro. I’ll make the call to our chapter president in upstate New York. They’ll come down there in force. Let me call him and I’ll get right back to you.”
“Thanks Al,” I said.
I paced back and forth some more waiting for the call back. My cell phone rang. “McDonald,” I said.
“They’ll be on the road within a half hour,” Big Al said.
“Good. I got to go,” I said.
“Be safe Bro,” Big Al said ending the call.
I called Connie back. She answered on the first ring. “Help is on the way. Stay in the hospital, around people. When you see a group of bikers swagger in, that will be them. They are some good guys. They will take care of you,” I said.
“Thank you Michael,” Connie said. “You be careful on the road.”
“I will,” I said and ended the call. I put my cell phone in my pocket and then hurried back to Erica’s car. By this time she was wondering what was going on. “There’s been a change of plans. I have to get to New York City as fast as I can. Someone tried to kill my brother last night. He’s in a coma, in the hospital. Don’t try to keep up with me,” I said.
Erica climbed out of her vehicle, put her arms around my neck and kissed me. “You be safe. Call me as soon as you can,” she said.
“You too. Don’t try to make it all the way to New Jersey today. Find yourself a nice hotel somewhere about half way. I’ll call you when I get there,” I said and headed back to the Harley. I fired up the shovelhead, put on my helmet and motored out into the street. At the entrance to the turnpike, I paid my toll and headed east going through the gears and pouring on the power until the speedometer said, ninety miles an hour. A tiny piece of gravel flew up from a truck’s tire and hit my face. That burning white cauldron of anger that lies just below the surface, bubbled up inside me when I thought about what those bastards had did to my brother.
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Coming soon, Door Number Two book four in the Mike McDonald Action Adventure Saga