Good Boy Ryker [COMPLETED]

Chapter 4: Eye Candy

Chapter 4

"Stay in the car." Casper tells me.

Devyn forces Travis out of the car and slams the door shut. The trio runs off and into the run-down building that reads: AOS Clubhouse. I stare around with widened and confused eyes as I glance out of the small, side windows of the backseat. There were about fifty motorcycles parked behind the scraped, dirty building. I noticed a few luxurious cars as well parked beside Devyn's vehicle. It was evident that we were in the back of the clubhouse. Apart of me, wanted to just open the car doors and run home. But, I had no clue where we were stationed at. I unbuckle the seatbelt, I'd managed to put on, the second Devyn stepped on the gas driving fiercely.

I was freaking out especially since I saw a blade with my own eyes. Of course I have seen knives before but nothing like that. And that pistol was something I'd only seen on Call Of Duty, I was hoping to keep it that way as well. My heart raced, my brain told me to get out and run to never look back but I knew I had to stay in this car. Unfortunately for me Devyn had shut the car off and took the keys. The air conditioning was starting to fade out and the pelting rain had stopped by now, the sun revealed itself behind the clouds. I knew I had to find some type of distraction. I had to take my mind off of being in this situation. But, I couldn't stop thinking about it.

Casper had said Ashton called and said that they've been robbed and that they needed to get to the 'spot' which now that I think about it we might be at the spot. Or at least one of the spots. AOS clubhouse. Could AOS possibly mean Aces Of Spades? If that were the definition behind the abbreviation that would mean all of these motorcycles belonged to members of the gang. My mouth dropped, so Ashton, Devyn, Travis and Casper weren't the only members in Aces Of Spades. They were just the only members in high school within the gang. It made more sense on why some of the rumors about them mentioned that they had killed people, smuggled guns and drugs and battled other biker gangs.

Scratching behind my neck, I pull my phone out of my pocket punching into my code. I had to tell my mom. Not that I was inside of a girl's car, who had weapons in secret hiding spots, but that I would be late. My hands shakily text my mother to tell her to go ahead and start dinner without me that I was staying after school to finish up some work. I shut my eyes feeling extremely guilty and regretful. Never have I ever lied to my parents about anything, even as a kid when I stole cookies from the cookie jar, I tattled on myself.

I was the kid that sometimes whipped out the wounded puppy look and would sigh and say "never mind... you're going to say no anyway" to garner sympathy from my parents before asking for a really big favor.

The kid that always had to choose between going out on either Friday or Saturday night because there's no way my parents were going to agree to both. The kid that never had "The Talk" with my parents. They left a book on my bed about my - changing body - and let me figure it out. The boy that when we had family dinners conversations revolved around my academics and class schedule—never about my social or love life. As far as my parents were concerned, I didn't have either. Which, more or less, were true.