Twice Driven
Authors: Madison Faye
Tags: #Literature & Fiction, #Erotica, #Romantic, #Mystery; Thriller & Suspense, #Thrillers & Suspense, #Crime, #Heist, #Organized Crime, #Crime Fiction, #Romance
Nothing’s going to stop us from making her
ours.
Abby
When I left my ex, I had
nothing
, but I knew I could never go back to the man who’d hit me. Worse though, he’s in the mob - I and had
nowhere
to go.
But lost, out of gas, and alone on the side of the road, help came in the form of the last two men I’d ever expect it from. Rough, dark, and dangerous attractive, the two road-hardened bikers might be everything that scares me, and yet everything I need.
The only problem is that I can’t decide between them... but I might not need to.
Jackson / Conner
We’ve been outlaws since the day we were born, and we’ll be outlaws until we die. For the right price, we’ll do
any
dirty job.
Except maybe this one.
Abby’s ex wants us to hunt her down and kill her - but when we saw the sinfully irresistible, mouth-watering woman on the side of the road, we only had one thing on our minds.
We
had
take her, possess her, and make her
ours.
Hope she doesn’t mind that we like to share.
Twice Driven
Copyright © 2016 Madison Faye
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author, except in the case of brief quotations used for review purposes.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are solely the product of the author’s imagination and/or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, organizations, actual events or locales is entirely coincidental. The author acknowledges the trademark status of products referred to in this book and acknowledges that trademarks have been used without permission.
This book is intended for mature, adult audiences only. It contains extremely sexually explicit and graphic scenes and language which may be considered offensive by some readers. This book is strictly intended for those over the age of 18.
All sexually active characters in this work are 18 years of age or older. All acts of a sexual nature are completely consensual.
Join the mailing list, get a **FREE BOOK!**
Join my mailing list to be the first to know of new releases, free books, special prices, and other author giveaways! And did I mention, you get a FREE BOOK for signing up?
Click the book above, or copy/paste the following into a browser to join now and start reading!
Look For the whole catalog, only on Amazon and always FREE with your Kindle Unlimited Subscription!
Twice Driven
Madison Faye
Twice Driven:
THREE
FREE BONUS BOOKS!
Chapter 1
Abby
The third time Joe hit me was when I packed my bags and headed out the door. I didn’t leave a note, and didn’t even take everything I owned. I just waited until he passed out in front of the t.v., threw some clothes in a bag, and got in the car.
Running away from a relationship like that is never easy - or safe - for anyone. Doing it when your boyfriend’s dad is a lieutenant in the mob?
Yeah, things get a
bit
trickier.
Joe’s family was “made”, as they say, which meant leaving wasn’t going to be as easy as staying at a friend’s house or checking into a motel in the city. No way. I knew I had to
really
leave - leave as in “disappear”. It wan’t an easy decision, but then, it was really my only one after that last time when he knocked me to the floor.
Yeah, takes a real man to punch his girlfriend when his team loses a football game.
Fuck that.
And so when I got in the car that night, I aimed west, turned on the radio, and just
drove
. I didn’t really know where I was going, or even where I’d sleep that night, but I’d hit the breaking point. Literally anything was better than the shit-show of a relationship the last two years had been. I was done.
*****
When the Las Vegas lights faded behind me, I felt better. But it was when I started to leave even the surrounding towns behind that I finally took the time to pull over, take a breath and finally let my heart stop beating so fast.
I was free.
There was a distinct chance Joe would come looking for me - I knew that, especially if “the family” got involved. But that was a risk that was worth it to me. When you’re in that deep with something that bad, you sort of lose track of who you even are. After two years, I felt like a blank slate. I might not have known who I was anymore, but another part of me knew that meant I could
be
anything I wanted to be.
Because I was free.
I pulled back onto the road, let the windows down, and let the hot summer wind blow through my hair as I chased down the horizon.
Chapter 2
Abby
Of course, “finding me” wasn’t going to be free. The first night, I’d caught a few hours of sleep parked outside a diner with my doors locked. I drove all day the next night, fueled by coffee and a driving need to put as much distance between myself and Joe as possible before I stopped. But by that next night though, I knew I had to find a real place to stay.
I was also going to need gas
really
soon.
Well, that and
money...
if I even had enough gas to even
get
some place to spend it.
I’d purposely left the the major highways behind in order to stay off the radar in case Joe as already after me. Rightfully, of course, but there’s one thing about highways; they do a pretty great job of getting you to gas when you need it. Out here on country route 88 though, there was
nothing
; not a thing that I could see on the horizon. I knew I was low, but by the time I actually realized the gas light was on, things were looking bleak.
Finally,
way
up on the horizon, I spotted a big gas station logo I recognized, and felt the relief wash over me. Getting suck out here in the badlands of wherever I was without gas, or money, or even any idea where I was going wasn’t exactly going to help me much.
It wasn’t until I got closer, the car practically sputtering on fumes, that I groaned as I saw the reality.
The gas station was
dead
, like, zombie move dead. The place probably hadn’t been open and pumping fuel in twenty years, which was more and more apparent as I pulled in, as if actually stopping next to a pump was going to somehow magically convince it to start pumping again.
I groaned as I shut off the engine and slumped my forehead against the wheel. I had no idea how long the gas light had been on, but getting to wherever the next station was seemed like a bleak prospect. But I was
exhausted
, the afternoon was getting late, and sitting here kicking myself for being an idiot and not taking the highway wasn’t going to do any good either.
“Back on the road then,” I mumbled out loud, swearing to myself as I pushed the keys back in the ignition. There was a soft chugging sound for a moment a the car tried to rumble to life before it gave up with a wheezing sound.
Oh you’ve got to be shitting me
I thought to myself. I tried again and swore loudly as the same sounds and same results repeated themselves.
I was officially out of gas, officially stuck on the side of the road in the middle of nowhere, and officially
screwed
.
The dull, thundering roar came from behind me, the searing churn of engines growing louder and louder until I turned just in time to see the two motorcycles go flying down the deserted stretch of road. I’d gotten a glimpse of leather and tan skin before they’d blown right past the deserted gas station in a cloud of dust.
Suddenly though, way down the stretch of road there, I saw them suddenly slow and turn, before I could hear the engines growl again as they began to roar back my way.
I could feel my blood run cold. Here I was sitting
alone
in my car at an abandoned gas pump on a deserted stretch of highway, with zero cell phone reception and two
bikers
had just turned around to head back to me. All of a sudden every crazy late-night college story about biker gangs and initiation “mayhem” came rushing into my head, and I found myself gripping the steering wheel with white knuckles, feeling the fear shoot through me.
What if Joe had sent them?
I quickly snapped out of my trance and locks the doors as they roared loser, before suddenly realizing how ridiculous a move it was. As if a closed window on an empty highway was going to stop them.
The two roaring bikes came rolling into the dusty, cracked-pavement of the gas station. With a final snarling crescendo and a pop, the thundering sound cut out suddenly, and there was silence.
The two motorcycles, all black, leather, and chrome, had come to a stop about twenty feet in front of my truck, their engines off now and ticking quietly in the afternoon heat. But what really caught my eye were the two men sat astride the bikes. They were both were clad in dark boots, denim, and leather vests over chiseled and heavily inked torsos with muscled, equally tattooed arms. These guys didn’t look like a couple of yuppies out on their weekend motorcycles. I thought again about all those “biker gang” stories; these guys looked like the real deal.
One of them dismounted with practiced ease, shaking his dirty blond hair out as he pulled off his helmet and hung it on the handlebars. He kept his sunglasses on, but I could tell they were both just sitting there looking at me. He looked at his partner and nodded, and I could feel my breath start to come in heaving gasps.
Oh my God, this is how it happens. This is how no one ever sees me again.
The man who’d stepped off his bike pulled his sunglasses off then as he turned and started to move towards me, like some sort of jungle cat stalking his prey. I could see his eyes then - sharp and blue, and trained right on me, and I could feel the cold dread welling upside as I sat there hyperventilating inside the hot confines of my car.
