Page 3 of Harley
Oakley bundled up the fabric, and I took it and dumped it in a roadside skip.
“They’ll be looking for me. Can we go?” Oakley asked as she yanked the veil off her head.
Holy fuck, this girl was stunning. Although she needed to tone down the eighties makeup.
“Just wait a second,” I said as Oakley shivered. It was bloody December, and she must be freezing. Concerned, I dug into my saddlebag and pulled out two hoodies.
“Put them on,” I ordered, and gratefully, Oakley yanked them over her head. I shrugged off my heavy leather jacket and wrapped that around her, too. Luckily, I had a thermal top, tee, and a hoodie on.
Oakley shook badly from the cold, though.
“Now you are ready,” I said.
“Please, can we go? They’ll be looking for me,” Oakley almost begged.
“Sure. Where are you heading?”
“Wherever you’re going is fine,” Oakley replied.
“I’ve got a decent motel booked just outside of Des Moines in Iowa, if that’s okay with you?”
“A different state? Yes, leaving Illinois is a great idea,” she agreed.
Full of curiosity, I got on the bike and waited for Oakley to climb on. She tucked the dress around her legs, and once I was certain it was safe, I hit the road.
I was full of questions but sensed Oakley was barely hanging on. This wasn’t the time to be asking for information. Although it would have been nice to have some answers to concerns such as, why the hell was she leaving her wedding in such a panicked state? Was Oakley in serious trouble? Why the urgent desire to leave Illinois? The questions kept tumbling around my head.
The foremost one in my mind was simple: had I brought trouble to my club and family? I’d no idea who Oakley was, but those men had looked pretty pissed. I was certain Oakley had been fleeing them.
The girl hung on tightly, but I sensed the weariness she kept in check.
Three hours later, I hit the motel and swung into a parking space.
Oakley climbed off, winced, and stumbled.
“You okay?” I questioned, reaching out to steady her.
“Yeah. Is there a bus station near?” Oakley asked, running her hands through her hair.
“Probably, but you can’t hop on one in a wedding dress. If you’re on the run, then that will get you noticed,” I stated.
Oakley stared down and frowned. “I didn’t consider that.”
“Babe, you need a meal, clothing, and some sleep.”
“Is this where you suggest I fuck you as payment for my escape?” Oakley snapped, suddenly defensive.
“Hell no. I don’t need to blackmail someone for sex,” I ground out.
“Good, because it’s not on offer.”
“Great, because I wasn’t expecting it. Look, you seem to have had it rough. I can take you to a Rebirth Trust shelter and get you in,” I suggested, and Oakley frowned.
“That’s a bit overconfident, isn’t it?”
“Nope. My last name is Michaelson. Harley Michaelson. My mom is Phoenix Michaelson,” I said, and Oakley frowned.
“The woman who runs the Trusts? No wonder you’d get me in. No, I’m fine. But you’re right, I do need a meal and some clothes.”
