Road to the Edge (Dogs of Fire #17)

Chapter One

Echo

Motorcycle exhaust pipes to be specific.

I checked my rearview mirror and frowned.

Sure enough, I had two bikers coming up on my right. One on a Harley, and the other riding what those in my profession call a “crotch rocket,” and they were both hauling ass.

I let out a frustrated growl and turned my volume down, decreasing my speed, and watching carefully. They were gaining speed, weaving in and out of traffic, which, luckily was light at the moment, but the riders weren’t being careful as they seemed to play their version of biker leapfrog.

I glanced at my speedometer, noting I was going sixty, and they were now quickly coming up behind me, so I tapped my brake gently, then got up to speed again. They moved back to my right, but there was now a car there, so they moved behind me again.

The Harley glanced to his companion, then decided he was having none of it, and moved to my left. The little fucker moved into the shoulder and gunned it, nearly taking out my side mirror as he passed me.

The crotch rocket guy now found an opening between me and the car on my right, so he moved between us and caught up to Harley dude, and then they did a little dance with each other as they raced down the freeway.

They were fucking playing with each other.

I scowled.

Oh, hell, no.

I decided I was going to follow these little shits.

Carefully, of course.

I drove a fast enough car, was a decent driver, and I had time to kill, so…

Game fucking on, biker boys.

We drove for several miles into Oregon, and they continued with their shenanigans until pulling off the freeway. I didn’t even notice we’d arrived in one of the worst areas of Portland until they drove into the parking lot of an auto body shop called “Big Ernie’s.”

I also failed to notice a third biker had followed me through the gates. Gates which were now closing behind me.

And I’d failed to notice them closing because, I was Echo fucking Weston, Warrior Princess, and when I had a dragon to slay, I left my goddamned brain in my purse.

Turning off my car, I climbed out and slammed my door, storming toward the two riders as they slid off their bikes. They’d pulled off their helmets, laughing like they’d just played the best round of golf, not like they’d nearly killed me and themselves on the asphalt.

“What the hell do you two idiots think you were doing back there?” I bellowed.

Harley boy frowned, his eyes raking over me as he cocked his head. “You got a problem, gorgeous?”

“Yes, I have a problem. Are you fucking high?” I screeched. “Have you ever seen the body of someone killed in a motorcycle accident? Have you? Because I have.”

“Chill out, lady,” Crotch rocket guy said. “We were wearing helmets.”

“Ever try to play checkers with a guy whose brain’s been scrambled inside of his helmet because some drunk soccer mom blew a red light?”

“C’mon lady. ”

“Don’t you ‘lady’ me, fuckwit,” I snapped back.

“Seriously. What the fuck were you doing back there? Do you have a death wish?” I faced Harley boy again.

“You passed me on the shoulder, dickhead, and nearly took out my side mirror. Had I not seen you, I could have made an error in judgement and weaved into your dumbass friend, killing him.”

As I continued my tirade, my hands, which had minds of their own, courtesy of my Italian mother, waived wildly in the air like a Sicilian Muppet. I can’t remember every gesture I made, but there was a lot of finger pointing, some fist waving, and possibly even a flipping of the bird at some point.

This might be a good time to point out that I’m neurodivergent.

Level one on the autism spectrum disorder, which, in my case, presents in many ways, including a resistance to change and lack of order.

When triggered, I can become impulsive and hyper-focused on certain specifics, causing a sort of social tunnel vision.

I also tend to swear like a drunken sailor on his third day of shore leave.

“We were just having some fun,” the crotch rocket goblin grumbled.

“How much fun do you think you’d be having if you lost a leg, dumbass?” I challenged. “Or what if you broke your back, or your neck? What if you broke your dick?”

“Jesus,” Harley boy hissed then chuckled. “From broken neck to broken dick, that’s harsh.”

“You two better wipe those smiles off your face and listen to what she has to say,” a deep voice said from behind me .

Startled, I jumped and let out a quiet squeak, spinning to face him. Good god almighty, he was gorgeous. Long salt and pepper hair, a beard that begged to be touched, and deep blue eyes that looked like they could see into your soul.

“C’mon Hatch—” Crotch rocket goblin whined. “We were on a ride and having a little fuckin’ fun.”

The man shook his head. “No, Dennis, she’s right, and I don’t like what I’m seeing here, so you can leave your cut at the gate on your way out. You’re done.”

“Shit, Hatch, don’t do that,” Harley boy argued. “It’s my fault. I egged him on.”

“I’ll deal with you later,” Hatch warned.

“What the fuck, man?” Dennis argued. “I thought I was prospecting for a fucking motorcycle club, not auditioning for a motorcycle safety PSA.”

Hatch moved in. “I’ve been watching you closely over these past months, Dennis, and you haven’t added up to much in my eyes.”

“Are you seriously going to listen to this road raging bitch?”

“Whoa, too far, Den,” Harley boy hissed.

“Shut the fuck up,” Hatch growled. “You’re gone, motherfucker.”

“What can I say? I’m all broken up,” Dennis replied.

“If you don’t take off that cut and move on, I’ll show you broken up,” Hatch replied in a tone that clearly conveyed he was not making an idle threat.

Dennis smirked before removing his leather vest, holding it out, and dropping it on the ground .

“That’s the last time you disrespect my club and keep both lungs. If I see you anywhere near us again, you’ll find out how serious I am.”

Without saying another word, Dennis got back on his bike and drove off.

Hatch turned to face me, and I bit my lip as he pulled a card out of his vest pocket and handed it to me. “I’m sorry my boys scared you, sweetheart. If you ever need any work done on your car, you call that number, and we’ll take care of you, free of charge.”

“No, that’s okay.”

“Take it,” Hatch insisted. “You’re right. And Archer here’s going to spend the next week in a motorcycle safety class.”

“What?” Archer bit out.

Hatch glanced up at him and smiled. “With me.”

“What about the shop? I have clients.”

“Reschedule them. After you call Devlin and tell her what you’ve done. Or I can,” Hatch warned.

“Fuck.”

Hatch waved the card toward me again, and I took it with a nod. “Um…I don’t know what to say.”

“Just promise you’ll use it if you ever need it,” the man said. “I can fix that squeak for you.”

“Um, okay.”

He continued to stare into my soul. “Do you know how to get out of here?”

I glanced around and suddenly realized I didn’t actually know where I was. I grimaced. “I’m sure my GPS can guide me.”

“Arch, show her back to the freeway entrance,” Hatch said. “Think you can do that without pissing her off any further?”

Archer sighed. “Yeah, Hatch, I can do that.”

“Good.” Hatch nodded, before walking away

I was now left alone with Archer, and the consequences of my impulsive actions were now staring me directly in my face.

* * *

Archer

“You a nurse or something?” I asked the hot as fuck pterodactyl.

“Or something,” she retorted.

“Look—”

“Archer Austin Carver!” my mother bellowed as she came rushing out the side door of the clubhouse. “What the hell is this bullshit about you racing on the freeway like a fucking maniac and almost killing a lady?”

I took a deep breath in through my nose and tried not to completely lose my shit in front of the beautiful woman. “Hatch overreacted.”

“He really didn’t,” the woman countered.

“Okay, can we take all of this down a notch?” I asked.

Mom reached us with a frown and crossed her arms. “Talk, kid. Now.”

“Yeah, I don’t think I’m gonna do that.”

“Speeds close to ninety, weaving in and out of traffic, passing on the left shoulder, nearly taking out my side mirror, playing motorcycle leapfrog,” the woman tattled.

“Seriously?” I ground out.

She shrugged a cheeky smirk on her face.

Mom gasped. “I pushed you out of my vagina, you little shit. Just wait until your father hears about this.”

I groaned, dragging my hands down my face.

“You’re his mom ?”

“I am.” Mom grinned. “Dani. Nice to meet you.”

“Echo Weston.”

They shook hands and I suddenly wanted to crawl into a hole and die.

My mother cocked her head. “How do you know my son?”

“Oh, I don’t,” Echo said. “I, um, well, I—”

“She decided to follow me home. Kind of like a stray dog.”

“Archer!” Mom said at the same time Echo retorted, “Rude.”

“I didn’t follow you home.” She squared her shoulders. “I was piss—ah, concerned you might kill yourself or someone else, so I wanted to make sure you didn’t do that. And now that I’ve made sure the world is safe from your dumb-assery, I shall get on with my day.”

“Oh, sweetie, you really shouldn’t be driving down here alone,” Mom said, then turned to me. “You need to make sure she gets back onto the freeway.”

“I was about to do that, Mama, when you came flying out here talking about your bathing suit area.” I sighed. “Can we put a pin in this conversation so I can get Che Guevarette back on the road?”

“Wow,” Echo breathed out with a huff and stomped back to her car.

“Archie,” Mom admonished. “That wasn’t nice.”

“Wasn’t it?” I challenged, shoving my helmet on my head and throwing my leg over my bike.

I backed out, then fired her up and guided Echo through the back streets pulling over the side of the road just before the freeway entrance.

For some unknown reason, she pulled in behind me, so I turned off my bike and climbed off, removing my helmet and walking back to her car. She rolled down her window.

“You need something?” I asked.

She pressed her lips into a thin line, then took a deep breath. “I just wanted to say that I might have come in a little hot back there.”

“Ya think?”

“Look, I’m sorry. I used to be an ER nurse and the things I’ve seen would make you think twice about what you and your friend did back there. At least, I hope they would.”

“Used to be?”

“What?”

“You said, ‘used to be.’ Why aren’t you a nurse anymore?”

“I didn’t say I wasn’t a nurse anymore.”

I pressed a palm to an eye socket. “You just said you used to be an ER nurse.”

“Yes. And I’m still a nurse, just not an ER nurse anymore.”

“Jesus, you always this obtuse?” I challenged .

“According to my very few friends. Yes.” She sighed. “Sorry, I don’t think well in stressful situations.”

“How is that possible if you’re a nurse?”

“I don’t think well in stressful situations that are new to me,” she corrected. “Never mind. I was just trying to apologize, but it’s not really coming across. I see the freeway entrance, so I’ll be on my way.”

“It’s all good, Echo. We were dickin’ around, and we shouldn’t have been doin’ that shit. You were right. Hatch was right and I’ve just gotta take the beat down comin’ to me from my dad—”

“Your dad will beat you? At your age?” she asked, her face scrunching up in horror.

“No.” I chuckled. “He’s the VP of the MC, and I will get an earful when I get back. I will then hear about it more from my mother, then my sister will probably have something to say about it, my brother, and so on. It was not my finest hour, and that’s on me.”

Her eyes went to the patch on my leather jacket. “MC? Oh! You’re in a club. I didn’t even realize.”

“You didn’t realize?” I asked. “The cuts and the patches didn’t give it away?”

“I was a little distracted. And the other guy, the one with the pretty eyes.” She drew her eyebrows together in thought. “Hatchet, I think his name was? He had on a leather jacket—”

I laughed. “Old Poppin’ Peepers Hatchet, that’s what we call him.”

“You do?”

“We sure do,” I confirmed, trying hard not to completely lose my shit.

“Well, whatever. I’m such an idiot.”

“Why are you an idiot?”

“Because I just ran my ass into a motorcycle club to tell off a couple of legit bikers without thinking and I could have been kidnapped and raped.” She gasped. “Why did I just say that out loud?”

I bust out laughing and shook my head. “We’re not that kind of club.”

“No. Um, clearly, you’re the rescue kittens and show wayward ladies back to the freeway entrance kind of club. Which I will now use to exit. That’s strange. You exit via the entrance. Apparently, speaking of that… I can’t stop talking, and don’t know how to ‘exit’ this conversation.”

I smiled. “Let’s just go with, ‘May our roads never meet again.’”

She nodded. “Um, sure. Right. Good.”

“Hey,” I said, leaning down. “No one will ever hurt you at my club. Ever.”

“Okay.” Her face pinkened as she nodded. “Right. Well, sorry. Again. Please be safe, okay?”

Without another word, she carefully pulled away from the curb and left me standing there like an idiot.

I shook my head and climbed back on my bike.