Chased by the Biker Shadow

Chapter 1

Pip POV

My boyfriend and I had been friends through school, study groups, and just hanging around; we stayed friends and didn't get together as a couple until I turned twenty and finished my bar management course. I was a wine connoisseur and could brew my own beer; I learned it in extra courses. One day I wanted to go to my wine bar and brew my own beers. We gravitated toward each other, nothing serious at first, just hookups, and that should have set off alarm bells, but I was still too trusting to think more of our relationship.

We both had needs.

I lost my virginity when I was fourteen. A group decided that I needed a lesson I would never forget. None of my defence training helped me that night—too many of them. I had to get stronger and faster to survive that kind of abuse.

It changed me.

It made me more determined to defend myself and get over feeling used and dirty.

I spent two nights in hospital over that beating.

Anyway, I got a call.

"Pip, can you come to the clubhouse?" The VP of his bike club called me in; they can be demanding when they want to be, and it's not worth fighting until I know why.

My bike, an Indian Brave, hummed underneath me as I rode to the club. I loved my bike; it reminded me of the man I called father. It was his bike before he passed away.

The clubhouse was quiet, as expected at midday; most would be at work. This place doesn't start rocking till the sun goes down.

"Hi, Pip. Donkey's upstairs in his room." The prospect thought I was here for my boyfriend; might as well say hello first. I was a little early for my meeting and in a good mood.

What I didn't expect when I pushed the door open was to see my boyfriend balls-deep with the girl he had been denying was more than a groupie, riding him, and both in the throes of ecstasy; Donkey never looked that way with me. Donkey noticed the door was open; his eyes widened at the sight of me in the doorway, but he didn't stop. I reached up, removed the necklace he gave me, which announced that I was his, and threw it on the floor.

"We are done." The girl looked over her shoulder at me with a triumphant smirk, but kept riding him, and he didn't seem too concerned about being found out.

The VP found me coming down the stairs.

"The President is ready for you now." I followed the VP to the office, where four men sat around a table in a room, I had never been in before, and it felt like an interview, or something, because why else would they need five against one?

Was I in trouble

Did I do something wrong, cross some invisible line I didn't know about?

"Hi Pip, you finished that course now?" He looked happy, and that never sat well with me; it was a fake smile.

"Yep, got the degree in the email today." I was proud of my achievement, another step toward finding a place to call my own and starting a wine-and-beer place.

"We want to offer you a job running our club bar. The guys want a break so they can enjoy other... pleasures." The president started.

"I just saw the other pleasures you are talking about, and the answer is no, but thanks for the offer."

"What are you talking about?" he barked back, his temper rising.

"Donkey is upstairs enjoying the hoe; you all denied he was bedding, making me feel stupid for thinking he was cheating, but then you guys don't think it's cheating, do you? It's okay for you guys to cheat, but we can't be other guys." I was fuming, angry, for being so blind for so long; I guess they are right: you see only what you want to see until it hits you in the face.

"You can't leave; once in, that's it. You belong to the club, now." A member said, looking older than the other members in the room. I had met them before, and I don't remember ever seeing him around the club when I visited.

"I was never initiated into the club; you don't own me. Donkey never made it official, which I guess was his way of saying he wasn't cheating if we weren't official. Now, watch me, I'm leaving." I turned and walked out the door; they didn't try to keep me there, and I thought that was the end of it. But would soon find out. I couldn't have been more wrong.

My bike started, and I took off, spraying dust at those behind me.

Unpleasant words were spoken as I left, but I still didn't think the club was a threat or that my leaving would be a big deal; they always treated me like I was nobody, and I often wondered why I was here at all. Now I kick myself for being so trusting.

I lived in a shared house, renting a single room. It didn't take long to pack my things and load them onto my bike: my laptop in the saddlebags and the items I thought I would need over the next few days. I secured the two bags on the back, took one last look around inside, and left the key on the kitchen table. As I climbed on my bike, my phone buzzed.

"Get your arss back here now; no one says no to the president." Donkey demanded over the phone. No wonder he wasn't worried about getting caught; they were all in on it.

"No, we are done. Finished, I am no one's side piece"

"No such thing. You can't run or hide from us; we will find you." Donkey yelled over the phone.

What the hell have I got myself into? I wasn't that close to them; how rude.

I got on the bike and hit the highway in minutes, heading north. I didn't know where I was going, just that I needed to get away. I rode till I was tired, then pulled into a motel for the night. It was dirty and cheap, but I didn't care then; I just needed space.

A week later, I stopped in a town, saw a "Job Vacant " sign on a club wall, and went in.

"We are after a person to help behind the bar when it's busy, and to serve the meals." I showed the manager my card, which said I was certified, and I got the job. I got a room in a shabby house a few doors down, included in my wages.

The place could get very busy, and I forgot about the ex and the problems there; I blocked his number and all his contacts.

Tonight was busier than normal. Lots of out-of-towners here for the fair.

My hackles went up the moment they walked in: a group of bikers; they took the table at the back, facing the door. It was my break spot, but I guess I will eat in the kitchen tonight.

I served them burgers and light beer all night; they didn't get up and dance or try to hook up. It was like they were waiting for someone. Most of them kept looking at the door; each time someone entered, they didn't see them. By midnight, they still didn't, and if they had brains, which I am sure they do, they could see them in the mirror behind the bar.

One of them, tall, good-looking, and made my lady parts remind me I hadn't been laid in a while.

"Pip, can you work to closing?" The manager asked when I came to collect another order.

My feet were aching; my body was calling for the bed. The last thing I wanted was to work another two hours.

"Sure." I heard myself say.

Why do I give in so easily?

I looked to the table of bikers and wondered if they were why I needed to stay; were they spying on my donkey?

We didn't get many bikers in here; it was unnerving. I might have to move on; three months in one place was too long. Donkey would find me eventually.

It was time; the last drinks were served, and the pole dancers and band had left, so most started to leave too. I cleaned up as I went, staying as far from that table as I could, but eventually it was the only one left uncleaned, and I had no choice but to give them their tab. What surprised me was that one gave me a hundred-dollar bill tip; I rarely get tips. The almost naked girls do, not me.