Page 334 of Devil’s Disciples

An outlaw.

A man who made his own rules.

I knew little of Ghost before his death, but I learned enough to know Porter, like me, detested the law. He hated rules. He found solace in solitude, and in the handful of people he chose to call friends. Although the time we shared together was short, I was honored to be consider one of those people.

Men like Porter ran in tight circles, surrounding themselves with like-minded people. If he called Goose a friend, it was enough of an endorsement for me.

Place an enigmatic outlaw on a Harley so loud it could wake the dead and give him features that were undeniably handsome.

The combination was irresistible.

“I’m hungry,” he shouted over the sound of the exhaust. “That half a burger wasn’t enough. You hungry?”

Waiting on George, talking about cars, picking up Goose’s motorcycle, and riding along the coast at sightseeing speeds had consumed the entire afternoon. The pancakes and half a burger I’d eaten for lunch had been expended through fifty miles of sexual frustrations created by Goose and his eight-hundred-pound two-wheeled vibrator.

We came to a stop. Intentionally grazing his earlobe with my lips, I whispered my response. “I could eat, too.”

He nudged me away with a shrug of his shoulder. “What did you say?”

I took exception to him brushing me away while I was trying to playfully tease him, and I wanted him to know it. I leaned against the backrest and pointed my mouth at the handful of clouds that had been following us since we left the SD.

“I. Could. Eat. Too,” I yelled.

Struggling to get the gear selector to work, he laughed. After shifting the transmission into neutral, he glanced over his shoulder. “I thought you said, ‘I could eat you’.”

“I could eat you,” I responded. “But that’s not what I said.”

“Be careful playing around like that,” he warned. “You’re going to get yourself in trouble.”

I decided to step up my game. “You don’t seem interested in trouble, Mister.”

He snatched off his sunglasses and turned around. “Excuse me?”

Based on the tone of his voice and the eleven o’clock thing going on between his brows, it was obvious I’d hit a nerve. Instead of receding and playing it cool, I decided to poke him again.

“I’ve made a few comments,” I said. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think…”

The car behind us honked.

His glare sharpened. “Think what?”

They honked again.

He shifted his anger from me to the driver of the car. “Go around, motherfucker!” He met my gaze with a glare. “Think what?”

Poking him wasn’t enough. He obviously needed a shove. “I don’t know. That you weren’t. Like.” I struggled not to smile. “Interested.”

“In what?” he snapped back.

I gave an innocent shrug. “Women?”

His eyes thinned to slits. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Kidding? No,” I deadpanned. “I wasn’t.”

Another car honked.

His angry eyes shifted beyond me, toward the unsuspecting motorist. “Fuck off, motherfucker!” he bellowed. “Go around.”