Home > Rider’s Revenge (The Last Riders #10)

Rider’s Revenge (The Last Riders #10)
Author: Jamie Begley

Chapter 1



Map of Treepoint, Kentucky



Heroes can be found in everyday life, but legends … those are rare. Those you have to search for…






Jo swam through the cool water of the small lake hidden in the woods behind Rachel and Cash’s house. Rachel had offered to let her swim there any time she wanted. Usually it was early evening when she came out here. If she didn’t see any cars or motorcycles outside Rachel’s house, then she would take a quick dip. Tonight, though, it was so dark she couldn’t see her hand in front of her face, and the lights from Cash’s cabin that could normally be seen through the inky darkness were off.

She dunked her sweaty hair under the water. The night was muggy, and she had serviced a three-car pile-up on the outskirts of town.

Jo swam until she was nearly exhausted, banishing the sight of the dead body being wheeled to the coroner’s van. Thankfully, the victim had already been covered in a body bag before she had arrived.

The sheriff had told her that the victim had been from out of town and had ignored the warning for the sharp curve. The BMW had taken the curve too fast, not seeing another car had stopped, waiting for a car in the incoming lane to pass so they could go down the side road that led to a home.

All three cars had been involved in the accident, four people had headed to the ER, and one to the morgue.

“I need to find another job,” Jo said out loud to herself as she floated aimlessly on her back.

Staring up into the tree branches that fanned over the water, she had drifted out farther than she had thought. She didn’t bother lifting her head, knowing exactly where she was in the small body of water.

The faint sound of a motor from the road didn’t have her lifting her head. The main road wasn’t close, but sounds carried in the woods surrounding the lake. With Rachel and Cash being out of town to visit Cash’s relatives, she didn’t expect any of Cash’s friends or Rachel’s brothers to stop by for a visit. Even if they did, they wouldn’t stay long, seeing that they weren’t home.

As the sound of the motor grew closer, Jo lowered her legs, treading water to stay in the shadows of the trees on the side of the lake.

“Dammit,” Jo muttered softly, seeing a motorcycle’s headlight coming to a stop at the bank, the lone light hitting the water.

She moved farther into the shadows, her chin dipping into the water in case the light hit her. She castigated herself for not taking the time to put on her swimsuit.

She had ridden her bicycle from the scrapyard. At least whoever the lone rider was who was enjoying his cigarette wouldn’t be able to see it from where it was leaning against a tree several feet away.

Jo remained still, making small movements to stay afloat as he smoked. When the smoke drifted toward her, she realized whoever it was, they weren’t smoking a cigarette.

When he lifted the joint toward his mouth again, Jo recognized Rider.

She cursed to herself. She detested that particular Last Rider. Shade, she had talked a few times before and after her father had been murdered. He had even loaned her enough money to keep her business going when she had been overwhelmed with the debts her father’s death had left behind. If Shade hadn’t loaned her the money, the new tow truck her father had talked her into buying would have been repossessed.

The few times that she had been unfortunate to talk to Rider, he had grated on her nerves. The first time she had met the handsome biker, he had expected her to fall for him as if he were God’s gift to women. The second time, he had thought she was interested in women.

Every bone in her body had screamed at her to take the Casanova down a peg or two. The only reason she didn’t was because Jo knew he was friends with Rachel and because his ego was so overblown that dynamite wouldn’t make a dent in his pearly whites.

A stray breeze had her shivering in the water.

Dammit, how long does it takes to smoke a joint? she thought wrathfully as she waited for Rider to leave.

When she saw him flick what was left in a glowing arc, then turned off his bike, she knew she was in trouble. His headlight disappeared, giving only the dim shadow of him undressing.

Her head spun at trying to figure out what to do as she warily watched his movements.

Rider headed toward the opposite side of the lake from where she was swimming. When she heard the scape of a rock, she knew he was climbing the rock overhang.

Was he going to stand there or …?

Her unfinished thought was answered as soon as she heard the splash.

She started swimming for the bank where she had left her clothes and bike. Her heart was pounding in exertion as she swam.

The tips of her toes had just grazed the bottom when she felt a muscular arm curl around her waist.

“Let me go!” Jo screeched, trying to jerk out of Rider’s restraining hold.

“Who do I have here? A mermaid coming to keep me company?” his amused voice came from behind her as she struggled against him, kicking her bare feet at his shins and thighs.

“Let go!”

“What’s the hurry?”

Jo sputtered out the water that was threatening to drown her as he turned her around to face him in the dark. The sleek feel of his skin under her palms heightened her anxiety of being alone with him in this isolated spot.

“I want to leave.” Jo was angry at herself for the slightly hysterical tone she could hear in her own voice. When men saw a weakness, they were quick to take advantage.

“I can’t convince you to stay?” His husky voice had a seductive, assertive tone that had him increasing her efforts to get away from him.

It might be pitch dark, but she could see the sexual promise that had the cool water feeling as if she was trying to escape being dragged down into quicksand.

With her nails, she scratched his hands, determined never to be a victim to a man’s desires again. “No!”

He released her, and she frantically started swimming toward the bank.

“Come on, Rach; the least you can do is keep me company until Cash gets here.”

She stopped swimming to turn back toward him, dumbfounded. “You think I’m Rachel?”

“Who else would be skinny dipping in Cash’s swimming hole?”

Was he pretending not to know who she was? Jo could have sworn he had known. Then she admitted to herself that if she hadn’t seen who he was when he had been smoking, she wouldn’t have known.

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