Throttle's Seduction: Insurgents Motorcycle Club (Insurgents MC Romance Book 7) Read Free Page B

over to Dwayne and motioned him to follow him back into the shop.
    When the heavy metal door closed, Throttle said, “Who the hell is fuckin’ around on Banger’s bike? Man, aren’t you watching what the shit’s going on in the bays?”
    Dwayne scrubbed his face with his fist. “Whoa, there. What the hell are you talkin’ about? I have a damn good mechanic fixing his bike.”
    “You have a bitch fixin’ his Harley. What the fuck?”
    Dwayne burst out laughing. “Is that what this is all about? Kimber’s a damn good mechanic. You know how picky Hawk is. He wouldn’t have hired her if he didn’t think she’d do a good job.”
    “Hawk hired her? There’s no way I want her near my bike if it ever needs fixin’. What the hell do chicks know about fixin’ bikes?”
    “Kimber’s better than some of the younger guys we have for the summer.”
    Before he could answer, the metal door banged open and Kimber walked in, throwing a smile at Dwayne and a grimace at Throttle. She slid between the two men and walked up to the counter. “You got some cold bottled water, Patrick?” She propped her elbows on the counter and rested her chin on her hand.
    “Yep.” The teenager bent down, then stood up and tossed a large plastic bottle at her.
    She straightened up and caught it, then grinned at him, causing his cheeks to redden. “Thanks.” She unscrewed the top and took a long, deep drink. Throttle watched the way her shoulder-length black hair spilled out from her baseball cap. The tips of her hair were colored a bright pink. He hadn’t noticed how snug her blue coveralls were, especially around her small hips and firm ass. She glanced at him. “What the hell are you lookin’ at?”
    Hot sparks rose in him. “Not you, that’s for fuckin’ sure.” He turned to Dwayne who had a goofy smile on his face, one Throttle wished he could smack off. “I’m outta here. I’ll tell Banger that his bike will be ready tomorrow.”
    “It will.” Kimber wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. Amid the grease on her fingers, a splash of neon purple filtered through. One of her arms was covered in colorful tats of flowers, butterflies, and crosses. It seemed the chicks always went for the frilly shit.
    “I wasn’t talkin’ to you.”
    “You should’ve been, since I’m the one working on the bike.” She tossed the empty bottle in the trashcan across the room, and, much to Throttle’s chagrin, it made it in. Smiling smugly, she brushed past him and went back to work behind the metal door.
    By the time Throttle arrived back at the clubhouse, he was fuming. Who the fuck did the little bitch think she was? He ought to teach her a lesson about disrespecting an Insurgent. And what the hell was Hawk smoking? Hiring a chick mechanic. Cara had definitely brainwashed him, and he was thinking with his cock instead of his brain. Fuck it! He slammed the club door behind him and went to Banger’s office.
    “When’s my bike gonna be ready?” Banger asked as Throttle slumped into the chair in front of his desk.
    “Tomorrow at closing. Did you know a bitch is working on your Harley? Can you fuckin’ imagine that? What the hell was Hawk thinking?”
    “You mean Kimber? She does damn good work. Bruce over in Silver Ridge recommended her. Seems she was workin’ there for a couple years.”
    “You’re cool with this?”
    “Yeah. I don’t give a shit if it’s a baboon fixin’ my bike, as long as it’s done right.”
    They’ve all become fuckin’ pussies now that they got old ladies. One more reason not to have an anchor around my cock.
    “Does it bother you?” Banger asked, an amused smile playing on his lips.
    “Yeah, it sure as shit does. You can let her get her nail-polished fingers all over your bike, but she’s not ever gonna touch mine. I’m gonna make sure Hawk is clear ‘bout that.”
    Banger shrugged. “Rock was lookin’ for you a few minutes ago.”
    “Thanks.” He pushed himself out of the chair and