“You said the men at your clubhouse would trap me if they knew I was an Ashworth.” Jitters run throughout my body, and my heart pounds. “Did you tell them who I was? Did they make you find me?”
Dax huffs, running a hand over his face. His jacket sleeve rides up, exposing part of the scorpion underneath. “Are you asking if I’m kidnapping you?”
I hug my middle, and my stomach drops. “Yes.”
Dax shakes his head, retrieving a pack of cigarettes from the inside pocket of his leather jacket. “You’re unbelievable.”
My teeth chatter. “That’s not an answer.”
“Why would I have told you to leave when you were at the clubhouse?” Dax asks, perplexed. “Why would I waste my time like that? I could’ve let McCoy take you right then and there.”
The thought sends a shiver through me.
He looks me dead in the eye. “I told you being there wasn’t safe. I’m not taking you back.”
I rub my goosebump-riddled arms, trembling at the honesty in his words. “Can you understand why I jumped to that conclusion?”
Dax smirks. “Sure. Why should you believe someone like me?”
He digs a cigarette out of the pack, along with a lighter.
“Wait!” I shout, lifting a hand like a stop sign.
He pauses with the cigarette and lighter fixed between his fingers in mid-air.
“Don’t light up.” I look around our surroundings for an excuse. “Can we go somewhere else?”
He lowers the cigarette, and joy sparks within me.
“Why?” he asks skeptically. “You just accused me of kidnapping you. Why would you want to get back on the bike?”
I shrug. “It was just a little panic attack.”
“Forget that,” Dax says gruffly. “Why wouldIwant to take you anywhere? I should just leave you here on the side of the road.”
Fear bubbles inside me, and I hurry closer to him. “I’m sorry I accused you of something so ugly. Please don’t ditch me here.”
He tilts his head, and his grin verges on sinister. “Why? Afraid you don’t have cell service to call your driver?”
I frown, powerless.
Dax chuckles, putting the cigarette pack inside his jacket pocket. He leans against the motorcycle, lighting the cigarette sitting between his lips. He exhales smoke from the corner of his mouth and grins at me. “No, I got it. Little Miss Precious doesn’t want to call her driver and explain why she’s stranded alone on the side of the road. Is that right? Afraid it’ll get back to Mommy and Daddy?”
I fold my arms, and my facial muscles contract as I sigh. He’s so irritating I forgot to conceal my frustration.
Dax lifts the cigarette, inspecting it. “Wait. Is it this? Were you trying to stop me from lighting up?”
“You have to admit, it’s a vile habit.”
He takes another drag of the cigarette, gradually exhaling the smoke. “You called your little outburst a panic attack. I’d call it having a good day.” He lifts the cigarette, and his shoulders slump forward. “These things keep me from spiraling. I’m leveled out when I have one.”
I bite my lip, contemplating his words.
He takes another drag, perching against the bike. “It’s better than getting loaded on booze every day.”
Is it? “Hmm. I guess.”
After another puff, Dax stands, drops the cigarette, and stomps on it with his heavy boot. Clutching his side with one hand, he dips to retrieve the helmet I chucked on the ground.
