Free Tear Me Away (Desert Wraiths MC Romance) by Amy Kiss Page A

A dark steed, slowly gaining.
    Why was it gaining? I had no doubt Ghost could push his ride harder than any normal human.
    Which meant he wasn't looking to run. My heart nearly pounded in sync with Ghost's augmented one.
    We beat the wave of cars and hit an unoccupied stretch of road. Ghost zoomed out even faster. The world around us was just a whirling blur. It was all I could do to keep my grip. When we had a good stretch of open road behind us, Ghost slowed. Through his side mirror, I saw our pursuer break out of the block of cars and loom in on us. He looked smaller on his Harley, wearing reflective red shades and a grim expression. In his hand, he leveled a gun.
    Ghost turned his head. "Hold tight, baby," he said.
    Even with death rolling towards us, the sound of that word passing from his body to mine rang a thrill up me. I didn't need any other encouragement to pour myself deeper into his body.
    We started to swerve across the road, rolling side to side, like a snake through sand. I watched as the biker pulled closer in the mirror, his pistol held out. But he couldn't make the shot. Did he have just one bullet? Why wasn't he shooting?
    He was just behind us now, almost level. I turned and saw his determined face pull into my view between wobbles. His jacket had the same markings as Ghost. The same club.
    All the warmth and fun left the chase. I realized who he was after.
    This man was sent to kill me.  
    Ghost was defying orders to keep me alive. Again.
    The biker was almost on us now. I saw his gun rise before his glasses, like an ugly sightless eye. Searching for me.
    "Hold on," Ghost howled.  
    Before I could understand, he curved a massive arm around and clutched me even tighter into his back. My softness squashed into him.
    And then we braked hard. Tires squealed. As close as my body had been to his before, there was nowhere left for me to go but to become him. His muscles were rigid as steel, locking us into his bucking chopper.
    His hand left. We zoomed forward. I looked past Ghost. My executioner was stopped a couple dozen feet ahead of us. The gun was raised but even with his glasses on, I could tell his eyes were popping wide open.
    Our bike swiped his tire. Just a bump for us, but his chopper swung across the road. He flew off onto the dirt and his Harley tumbled after him.
    Ghost turned and parked by the fallen bike. He got off and picked the fallen gun. Our - victim, I guess now - groaned and clutched himself. Ghost nudged his face with a foot.
    "Oh, god," the man groaned. "My ribs."
    "You want the pain to go away?" Ghost cocked the gun. No trace of a smile there. No trace of Bryan.
    "Jesus, no. No no, I'm sorry."
    "Sorry."
    "For following orders man. That's all. I'm just a shooter. Just Trig, you know. Nico points, I shoot."
    "And was killing me part of your orders?"
    "Course not. But I never miss."
    "You just did."
    Ghost pointed the gun at the bike and I had the sense to clap my ears shut before the shots went. I blinked at the flare of heat and one tire blew. The next shot went into the gas tank. Liquid dribbled out, thin and free.
    Ghost pocketed the gun. "Thanks for this." He kicked the guy something vicious, and straddled the bike again.
    "You good?" he asked.
    I heaved heavy and felt my breasts shift against his back. "I'm alive. Thanks."
    "We might be even now."
    I grinned and hugged him, ready to go anywhere. Then I remembered. "Oh, your medicine. I have some. You need it?"
    "Not yet." He squeezed my shoulder. "Once you're safe, I'll need a big dose."
    We kicked off and rumbled down the road. I held him and listened to the wind enveloping the two of us, feeling utterly content. I had been the target of a hit. Twice. From two different mean-as-hell sons of bitches. Good thing t he biggest one around belonged to me.
    The motor rumbled on and we rolled for hours. We passed several interstate intersections and Ghost would take them or not at random. I completely lost track of where we were headed.