Free The Run (The Hell's Disciples MC Book 4) by Jaci J

to say.
    “I look fine.” Yeah, too damn fine.
    “So, can I come with you?”
    “What?” Fuck no. I start trying to come up with reasons as to why she can’t come with me, but I got nothing.
    “I wanna come with you,” Lennon says defiantly.
    “Why?” I can’t stop myself from looking at her tiny white tank top with an eagle stretched across her tits. Covering her ass is a piece of pointless denim, covered in patches of fabric sewed onto them. The American flag, a Budweiser tee, and tie-dyed fabric is plastered across her ass. On her feet are a pair of beat up Chucks, and no broad has ever looked any fucking better.
    “I don’t want to sit here by myself,” she says, touching my arm.
    “So.”
    “So, I wanna hang out with you.” She’s acting like she likes me, and that shit makes me wonder what her fucking game is. There’s no reason for her to like me.
    “Yeah, sure you do.”
    “No, really.” Not believing that shit, but I’m not going to stand here arguing with her about it either.
    “Can’t wear that on the bike, babe.” I motion at her barely there outfit. That outfit is a disaster waiting to happen.
    “Yes I can. I did when you brought me here,” she reasons. Fuck it. If she falls off and hits the road, there won’t be shit left for skin.
    “Darlin’, you ever hear of road rash? It’s pretty goddamn painful.” I can attest to it. A big fucking scar on my thigh proves that story.
    “I’ll be fine.”
    “You burn or cut yourself on the bike, I don’t wanna hear about.” Rolling her eyes, she shoves past me towards the door, digging her pointy ass elbow into my gut as she passes. Man, isn’t she lovely? 
    “Let’s roll, Sasquatch.”

    “You haven’t killed her yet?” Rock laughs and congratulates me, slapping me on the back when I walk up next to him out in the garage. No, I haven’t, at least not yet. 
    “Nah.” She’s too pretty to fucking kill, but I’m not above duct tape and a little rope to shut her ass up if she needs it.
    We both look over at Lennon, who’s walking around the shop, poking around the tool benches and broken down bikes, touching everything within arm’s reach. Picking up a headlight off a bike, she turns it over in her hands, studying it.
    “She’s gettin’ pretty handsy there, brother.” Rock nods over at her. He doesn’t have to tell me, I live with the chick. Lennon likes to touch shit that doesn’t belong to her.
    “You know the rules, babe?” I ask her. Obviously not, because she’s touching everything worth touching.
    She looks over at me and frowns. “What rules?”
    “The no touching rule.” She snorts, not buying what I’m selling. She finds that shit funny, does she?
    “Does that go for all the females around the place?” she smarts, throwing a hand towards Tandy, who’s practically skipping after Dan, topless.
    “Only the important shit like bikes fall under that rule, babe,” I tell her. The women are all up for grabs as long as they’re down. Well, everyone aside from Lennon. No one touches her.
    With her eyes full of fire, she pushes. Taking a few steps back towards the black custom bike, she stops, grins, and sets her ass on the seat, making herself right at home.
    “So, you mean no touching shit like this?” she asks sweetly, running her hands over the handlebars.
    “Yeah, darlin’, I mean shit like that.” But Lennon ignores me and keeps touching.
    “Is this your bike?” Turning her attention to Rock, she licks her lips and carries on with that sweet voiced bullshit.
    “Babe,” he mutters, shaking his head. He’s clearly not sure what to say to her. His eyes are practically bugging out of his head when she leans over the bike, giving him a great ass shot.
    “You mind?” His silence is all the answer she needs. She climbs on and straddles the bike.
    Turning to me, he shakes his head and frowns. “Good luck, brother.” Yeah, I’m gonna need it.
    Looking back over at Lennon, she’s smiling like she