Lady Grace the Story of Ben and LaraChapter 17 Father Ben
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Lady Grace: The Story Of Ben And LaraChapter 11: The Biker Chase free porn video
Despite their best efforts, Ben and Lady Grace didn't get out of the city till after 9am. They had been in line since before six, but had spent hours sitting around while the customs officials had 'lost' files and had to 'verify' their records. If it had gotten to Lady Grace, Ben couldn't tell. Despite the fact that she hadn't had a square meal or a decent night's sleep in over 48 hours, she looked as polished and as calm as a fashion model. Figured. He both looked and felt like crap, and it didn't help that with every minute the two of them spent inside Fulsome's claustrophobic walls he felt like he had a bull's-eye tattooed to his head.
They had scattered and slowed down the biker's inside the city last night, but Gunny kept in contact with his guys with radios. That meant that 'Bastard Squad' knew where and when he and Lara were going to leave Fulsome, and without the Fulsome neo-nazi uber-cops cramping their style they were going to be armed to the teeth. Great.
Still, they were finally out of the damned city and even if they were riding into the barrel of a gun, at least for they moment they had the freedom of the road. The two of them wove in and out of the thick morning traffic at high speed, tense and waiting. They knew where to go: about 50 miles off, in the foothills buried under a cactus were Lara's pistols and Betsy. It didn't seem like much against over a hundred well armed bikers but it was more then they had now, which was Ben's tire iron and harsh language.
Hopefully, Bastard Squad were spread thin along the hard top looking for them, and he and Lady Grace would only have to take on a couple of them. Ben was indestructible on the road, but even he was only so good. He knew Lady Grace was tough and he knew she could ride, but he didn't want to find out just how tough.
Ben looked in his side mirror and saw five slow slung bikes powering up the road behind them.
It was too late. They were here.
Ben waved and caught Lara's attention, then pointed behind him to the pursuing Leathernecks. She nodded and poured on the gas. Ben floored it as well. Ben's ride was a big road eating monster; a big bike with a big engine. It wasn't as manoeuvrable as a smaller machine like Lara's, but nothing on wheels could match his top end. Mo had installed a recoil booster on his bike last year, and Ben could have used it now to blast him even faster, but that would leave Lara behind. Her motorcycle was smaller than his but it had a newer, more efficient engine that gave her a top end pretty close to his. The Leathernecks, if the bikers inside the city were an indicator, had older bikes that weren't even Corleys. As long as he and Lady Grace could keep up the speed, the bastards behind them would only be eating dust.
The problem with going totally red lined was that the roads weren't all that great. The pot holes and the roadkill came at you too fast to dodge, and all it took was one screw up to turn you into street pizza. Ben usually liked to keep his road speed between 80 and 120 mph, or even as low as 40 if the road was the shits, but this wasn't a usual time. He was doing an insane 165mph, the howl of the wind vying with the scream of his engine to see which would deafen him first. He had his goggles on to keep the crap out of his eyes, but every bug and bit of dust that hit his face stung like a hot poker. He would have gritted his teeth, but didn't want anything to get in his mouth.
Ben looked in his side mirror and smiled grimly. Lady Grace was keeping up pretty good, her slender form bent low over the bars of her bike. Her face was a mask beneath her mirror shades and her braid flew straight out behind her like a pole. The pursuing Leathernecks about 200 yards behind them and not getting any closer. At this speed they were doing almost three miles a minute and that fifty miles to Betsy was getting eaten up pretty fast.
He and Lara wove around a slow moving land train and Ben swore. Ten bikes, maybe more, were in front of them They were going in the same direction, but slower and it wasn't going to take long before he and Lara overtook them. Sure as shit those bikes were armed and if the two of them got nearer then they were going to get chewed apart. At the same time, if they slowed down the bikes behind would overtake them and they would be equally screwed. Stuck between a rock and a hard place. Damn.
On the open road, the Leathernecks held all the aces. With their guns, they could keep their distance while picking Ben and Lara apart, and with their numbers, the bikers could herd them where ever they wanted. On top of that, according to that asshole last night in the alley, the Leathernecks were broken down into twenty five man 'squads'. That meant that there were still ten bikes unaccounted for, and that was what worried Ben most of all. The only thing worse than an enemy you knew was an enemy you didn't. Double damn. Ben had to get off this highway and find a way to even these shitty odds, or he and Lady Grace were buzzard bait.
A sign flashed by saying that the road ahead split with a branch heading south to the Mexican border. Ben grinned. All he had to do was wait until the bikers ahead committed to one route, then take the other. Once he was in front of them, he and Lady Grace could burn rubber and be home free. The jerks following them would eat exhaust all the way to Fort Kennedy.
The Leathernecks in front approached the fork, but instead of going down either route, they split into two groups of five, and each took one branch. Ben swore. These bastards are smart, I've gotta keep remembering that. Hadn't he just made that point to Lady Grace last night?
He and Lara came up to the split and Ben thought a second over the route. Either one they took, they were screwed, but if they could manage to survive for a few minutes, the left branch met up with a pain in the ass back-road that took them right to where Betsy was buried. Lady Grace flashed him a cool-as-a-cucumber look and in answer Ben pointed left. Great. They knew where to go, now they just had to find a way to get there.
Father Torque seemed to be watching, for what Ben needed suddenly appeared in front of him, a ten truck convoy in tight tail-to-nose configuration. Ben grinned. Thank you, Father. It was just what he needed.
As the convoy approached, doing a sedate eighty miles per hour, Ben slowed himself to match speed, then weaved his bike into the one motorcycle wide gap between two of the trucks. Lady Grace, either trusting in him or more likely, having the same idea herself, did the same. The trucker blew his horn and gave Ben the finger, but did nothing else as Ben's bike entered the small gap between the front bumper and the rear of the preceding semi.
Ben grimaced. He'd had bad experiences with semis. Both Emmett and Rip Burger had done their level best to either run him off the road or turn him into street pizza in big trucks. The damned things were just too damned big and impersonal. They didn't notice if they ran over something small and crunchy like a motorcycle, and more often than not, the drivers of the damned things were jerks.
With Ben jammed between the two trucks, the bikers could only come at him—hopefully—one at a time, and at close quarters. Ben was an expert at close quarters bike fighting. He'd spent years cutting his teeth on the old Mine Road, and he'd been taught by the Best. Ben cast quick glances to either side of him, unsure from which way the first biker would come. With his left hand he gripped his tire iron and gave a brief fond smile. The worn steel rod didn't have the history the Betsy did, but it had seen him through all the crap he'd been through last year. That was the good thing about steel: it was always there and it never let you down. Unlike people.
Ben didn't let himself pursue that train of thought any longer, because a Leatherneck came into view on Ben's right side. Ben quickly switched hands on his tire iron and veered into his opponent as fast as he could. As Ben came in close he saw the guy raise a machine pistol up to fire.
With a heavy grunt Ben brought the tire iron down on the guy's wrist. When it connected Ben felt the bones break and a moment later both bikes collided into each other. Ben's bike was the heavier of the two and Ben had been expecting it. He kept control easily, but the other guy wasn't so lucky. He was still stunned from the pain of his broken wrist and his lighter bike was harder to keep control of, but he still almost managed to keep the bike on its wheels.
Ben took the decision out of the guy's hands by smashing his tire iron into the guys head. The bike and rider slued clear of the truck convoy before pitching over, but by then it was out of sight and out of mind. Ben ducked back between the trucks and waited for the next rider to come at him.
One down, twenty four to go. He couldn't keep this up for long. These guys all had guns, and sooner or later they would shoot him before he could close, or they would come in on both sides. When that happened he was one dead puppy.
Either he had to get armed, or something else had to happen to even the odds. He wondered how Lady Grace was doing.
Lara watched as Ben ducked between the trucks and silently congratulated him for the idea. It was really the only choice they had and she intended to make the most of it. She quickly manoeuvred her motorcycle into the gap one truck behind Ben's then wondered what to do next. In these narrow confines, the Leathernecks could only come at them one or two at a time, but that was one or two to many. She was on a lighter bike and had only the hunting knife she had nicked last night as a weapon.
Her first priority, whatever happened, was to relieve one of these gentlemen of their guns. Then she could use her greater agility to evade their fire while picking them off one at a time. It was a technique she used to great effectiveness while on foot, jumping diving and rolling about while raining pistol fire upon her opponents.
Unfortunately, while she was stuck hiding between these trucks her main asset—speed—was nullified. It was a factor she had to change, but she was damned if she knew how to do it.
Further thought on the matter was brought to a halt as the first Leatherneck came abreast of her hiding place. He had a large calibre revolver in his hand and when he saw her he extended it to shoot. Lara cursed. Her knife was still tucked in her belt and she had no time to draw it. All she could do was dodge, and she couldn't do that in here. That meant, unfortunately, leaving her cover and exposing herself to the entirety of the Leatherneck biker squad.
Well, she was damned either way, and this way, at least, gave her a modicum of a fighting chance. She leaned her body all the way over the side of her bike, giving the shooter only one of her arms and legs to target and sped out from her hiding place in the opposite direction. Over the roar of the engines of the trucks, she still heard the report of the gun and felt/heard the bullet pass narrowly over her.
Lara came out of hiding near the back of the convoy on the left side. The Leathernecks had surrounded the convoy in an effort to both contain and keep an eye on Ben and Lara. That meant that they were fairly spread out along the sides of the ten truck convoy. Since she was near the back of the convoy, she could see six bikers in front of her. That was six bikers that could not look behind them or—more important—shoot at her.
Lara knew that she was an inviting target to however many bikers were behind her and did not intend to make herself an easy mark. As soon as she cleared the trucks she gunned her bike and began to weave back and forth. From behind her she heard gunfire but thankfully none hit. Looking back, she saw three bikes. Sooner or later they were going to hit her.
Blast. Lara hunched over her bike as much as she could, making herself as small a target as possible. To give the bikers behind her pause, she tried to line herself up with the nearest Leatherneck in front of her. Maybe with their comrades in the line of fire, they would hesitate a moment before shooting, and for Lara that moment was one more she was alive. God, it was exhilarating.
Lara closed quickly with the biker in front of her. He was peering between the trucks trying to get a glimpse at what she thought was Ben and didn't see her. Grinning ferally, Lara drew the knife from her belt and shifted around to his right side, where he held his gun—some sort of machine pistol—in a barrel up ready position.
With a hearty battle cry, Lara plunged her knife deep into the man's leg, then pulled it out again for another blow. The biker cried in pain, but despite his wound wasted no time in trying to smash Lara with the butt of his gun.
She parried aggressively with her knife, bringing the blade along the side of his wrist as his hand descended, then used her forearm to deflect the blow. The strike did little bit piss him off more and make him bleed, though it certainly made her arm hurt. The biker tried to veer away from her but she kept her bike in close with his as they fought. She was in too tight for him to use his gun, and had to find some way to grab it. Unfortunately, she needed one hand to control her bike and the other to fight, or she would have just grabbed it. He tried to smash her with the gun butt again, but when he raised his arm to strike she slashed him across his ribs. Again, he made no notice of the cut and swung the heavy gun butt down again. Lara's brought her arm up again to block, but it was a 'hard' block—one that pitted her strength against his with no attempt to redirect the force of the blow—and this time it proved too powerful for her to deflect. His strike smashed down on her back, just behind her shoulder, and left her arm momentarily numb.
Her opponent swung his gun down again and being currently unable to block, all Lara could do to avoid the hit was veer her bike away. It worked—the attack missed—but now he had enough room to extend his arm and bring his gun to bear. Lara slammed on her brakes for a moment and shot backward, barely dodging the burst of gunfire.
Desperately, she swung her bike around his rear to his other side, trying to stay out of his arc of fire. The biker, alert despite the wounds she had given him, swerved to his right in an attempt to keep her in his sights, but Lara and her bike were too quick. Coming up on his off side, she switched hands with her knife and tried to plant it in his back, but he dodged and she struck the seat. Trying to get another shot off, he brought his gun across his body and fired, but Lara used her bike's nimbleness to dance out of the way and duck behind him.
Unfortunately, when the biker fired across his body, he forgot about one important factor: the expended brass casings that were ejected when the gun fired. Normally they fired safely away from his body, but he was holding the gun—now on its side with the ejection chamber pointed up—and the hot rounds flew right into his face. Instinctively, he tried to cover his face with his free hand—which happened to be on the handlebars—and the vehicle lost control.
Lara, who had been coming around behind him when this happened, was quick to take advantage of her opponent's weakness. His hands had gone immediately back to his handlebars, but his gun hand had been flung out and up in an attempt to balance himself. It was almost too perfect.
Coming up close to him, Lara stood up on her bike and with a back handed swing plunged her knife straight into his chest. It was a poor blow with weak penetration, but it was enough to make the stunned and wounded biker loosen his grip on his gun. Lara plucked it easily—if any manoeuvre done on the back of a racing motorcycle could be considered easy—and smashed the butt down on his wounded leg. He lost control and crashed.
Lara didn't have time for self congratulations. In her side mirror she saw another Leatherneck coming up behind her, gun pointed towards her. She veered to the left, dodging his burst, then decelerated until she was at his side. The biker tried to bring his gun to around bear on his agile target, but Lara beat him to the chase. With a quick trigger pull, she fired three rounds into his chest, then accelerated beyond his body and cartwheeling bike.
Two down. Lara grinned and bared her teeth. The odds were still far from even, but she was armed now, and that made things a damn sight better than they were before.
Ben swore as the trucks he was hiding between began to split up and break formation. He couldn't blame them for not want to stick around a bike fight—they had cargoes to haul and they were the ones who had to foot the bill if their goods got shot up—but he had to admit they had lousy timing. He had wasted one more Leatherneck that had come in from his right side. Something on the left side of the trucks, probably Lady Grace, had kept them too distracted to try and get him. With a blast of their horns, and a few angry gestures, the big rigs split up, leaving Ben suddenly alone on the road with a lot of angry bikers and no cover to hide behind.
One of the Leathernecks, taking the opportunity to try and bag himself a Polecat, appeared on Ben's suddenly vulnerable flank and began spraying wildly with his machine pistol. Ben swore and began to jink and dodge like mad. Shooting with one hand from a moving motorcycle was damned hard, as well Ben knew. Betsy was a single shot rifle for that reason, but a lot of weaker -and lazier- shooters made up for that with a 'spray and pray' technique that was mighty thirsty on ammo.
The guy behind him was shooting up a storm and Ben heard at least one round go into his exhaust pipes. Ben frowned. He messed up my bike. That biker's gonna die forwhat he's done. He steered his bike onto the road's gravel shoulder and goosed the throttle while heaving back with his arms. The massive bike seemed to defy gravity as it rose ponderously onto its back wheel and before the guy behind him figured out what he was up to, Ben triggered his recoil booster for just a second.
It wasn't enough to send the bike anywhere—Ben wasn't going to leave this battle without Lady Grace—but it created a huge cloud of dust and shot the gravel on the road beneath him into the air like bullets.
Ben let his front wheel hit the ground, thankful that it stayed there (popping a wheelie always made him nervous now) and immediately veered right while he hit the brakes. The biker behind him, stung by the flying gravel and blinded by the dust, never saw Ben and his outstretched tire iron until it was too late. The impact from the ran up Ben's arm all the way to the shoulder and almost disarmed him, but it sent the biker crashing to the ground which made it all worth while.
Ben looked around frantically for bad guys, but more importantly for Lady Grace. He didn't even try to rationalise the intense relief—almost enough to make him feel giddy—that he felt when he saw her alive, zipping around like a hornet and firing off her stolen pistol like she was born with it. As he watched, her gun ran dry and without a moment's hesitation she threw it into the front wheel of a bike close to her, making it pitch up and send its rider flying. He was struck by the grace of the manoeuvre—she made it seem as natural as breathing—and also by how much he suddenly realised he felt for her. Love.
He'd never used that word before in a sentence not involving the word Corley but nothing else seemed to fit what he was feeling now. That realisation shook Ben to his core, but he couldn't dwell on it, not now, not with a whole slew of Leathernecks still out there and all of them wanting his—and Lara's—hide.
The side road to Betsy was coming right up, and it was about damned time. Staying on this highway being shot up by merc bikers was running the odds a lot narrower then he cared to. Sooner or later, he and Lara were going to get nailed.
He drew in a breath for courage, then let it out. This road, especially while getting chased, was going to be a bitch. It was pitted, narrow and twisted like a sidewinder. It was going to take both hands to drive, so the Leathernecks wouldn't be able to shoot as they chased Ben and Lara, or if they did try maybe they'd end up as smears in the bedrock.
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