Throttle's Seduction(Insurgents MC Romance Book 7)(5)

By: Chiah Wilder

The women’s eyes shined as Throttle stood before Banger’s door, ready to knock. Tucked snuggly under each of Rock’s arms, they waved to him, telling him to hurry back as they disappeared in the stairway. Laughing, he knocked on the door.

“Come in,” Banger’s voice boomed.

Throttle walked in and stood in front of his president, who was seated behind his desk. “Rock said you wanted to see me?”

“Yeah. I need you to go over to Hawk’s shop and see if he’s done with my Harley. He’s had the bike for over a week, and I’m getting fuckin’ antsy to ride it.”

Banger pulled me away from a luscious ass to check on his goddamned Harley? Is he fuckin’ serious? “You can’t get a hold of Hawk?”

Banger narrowed his eyes. “If I could, I wouldn’t tell you to go over to his shop, would I? He’s not at the shop, and he’s not answering his phone. Probably in some damn country club tasting the food for his upcoming wedding. Fuck, he’s turning into a real pansy-ass.” Banger and Throttle chuckled. “Anyway, I want to go on the charity poker run next week, so I need my damn bike back. I’ve got a ton of shit to do here.” Banger waved his hands over the papers scattered on top of his desk.

“Sure, I’ll go. You want me to call when I’m there?”

“No. When you get back you can let me know what’s goin’ on with my Harley.”

“That it?”


“Cool. Later.” Throttle ambled out of the office, stopping to have a quick beer before he jumped on his bike. Why he couldn’t finish fucking that sexy piece of ass before he went on this errand was beyond him. Remembering that the two women would still be at the clubhouse when he returned, he revved his engine and blasted out of the parking lot, eager to finish quickly so he could have some fun with Rock and the sexy girls.

Chapter Two

When Throttle entered Hawk’s shop, a blast of cold air slapped him in the face and he sighed in relief. It was damn hot outside, and he looked forward to the cool nip in the air that autumn always brought to the high mountains.

A lanky teenager sat behind the cashier’s counter, his head bent down as his fingers flew over the keyboard on his phone. Throttle recognized him as Banger’s nephew; he’d seen the kid at a couple barbecues he’d gone to at Banger’s sister’s house.

“Hey, do you know anything about Banger’s Harley?” Throttle looked through the closed door’s glass window at the service garage.

The teenager raised his head and smiled. “Hey. Your name’s Throttle, right?”

He nodded and drummed his fingers on the counter. He wanted to finish fast so he could get back to the horny chicks he’d left at the clubhouse. “So, do you know what’s going on with your uncle’s bike?”

“Not really. Hawk just asked me to watch the place and check customers out while he was gone. He said he’d be back in a couple hours.”

“I got somewhere I need to be. I’ll ask one of the mechanics.”

“That’s a good idea.”

Throttle clenched his jaw in exasperation and headed to the bays. When he stepped into the repair area, oil and gas fumes curled around him. He loved the smell; it always made him think of the ride and the wind wrapping around him. Damn, being on his bike, going a hundred, was better than sex most of the time. It was total freedom, and when he was soaring, it was like an out-of-body experience. He’d never found anything in the world that compared to it.

“Hey, Throttle, what brings you here? You got problems with your 1250?” asked Dwayne. He was the manager of the shop, and he’d been working for Hawk for nearly ten years.

“Nah, my baby’s good. Banger sent me here to see if his bike’s almost ready. He’s going crazy without it. Besides, he’s got a poker run coming up soon.”

Dwayne wiped his brow with a dingy cloth and jerked his head to the right. “I think it’s almost done. Go ask the mechanic.”

Throttle walked over to the third stall and saw a short, slight mechanic bent over Banger’s Harley, turning a wrench. The mechanic’s back was to him, and Throttle noticed a full sleeve of tats and slightly rounded hips. Hard rock blasted from the radio on the shelf next to the stall. Surprised someone so slight could handle a powerful bike like Banger’s, he took a few steps forward and said in a loud voice, “You almost done with this bike?” as he turned the radio down.

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