“Yes.” Her voice is barely a whisper now. “Just get us out of here.”
I shove my phone in my pocket and fire up the engine. “Tell me where to go. I’ll follow your directions.”
Her directions come in clipped yells over the engine. Left here, straight ahead, avoid that street. But the Ducati has other plans.
The engine sputters. Her grip tightens desperately around my waist. “Tristan.”
“I know. I’m trying.” We make it maybe two more blocks before it starts grinding so loud I know we’re done. I coast to a stop on a side street, my jaw clenched. “Birdie, I’m sorry, but—”
A pack of motorcycles roar past in formation.
“No.” Birdie is off the bike before I can finish, backing away like it’s betrayed her. “No, no, no.”
I’m beside her in a flash, pushing her behind me, hiding her rather than protecting her. The bikers slow down in tight single file and glance in my direction. I’m on high alert, assessing the threats, hands ready for guns.
One of them flashes his teeth at me. One is gold, two are missing and the rest are brown. “Nice ride.”
It's normal for bikers to admire a good machine when they see one, but Birdie’s reaction can’t be ignored. Until I decide if the compliment is genuine or if they’re here for trouble, I nod, hand on hip, closer to my Glock. “She’s a rare breed.”
“She giving you trouble?” His Southern accent shows.
“Not this beauty, no.”
“All right,” he drawls, heavier on the accent. “Get home safe.”
“You too.”
He revs the engine and motions for the rest of them to move. Their stares linger on us for a while until they all follow him and tear down the road.
“What the fuck was that? Do you know these guys?” Behind me, Birdie is shaking like a leaf.
“Hey, it’s okay. They’re gone. I’m right here with you. I won’t let anything happen to you.”
“We have to leave.”
“Sure. Scratch the gas station. Let me call an Uber back to the hotel. I’ll tell Brandon to come get the bike.”
“No. You can’t leave it here for long. It’ll get stolen.”
I point a thumb back at where those bikers went. “By them?”
She nods once.
“I don’t give a shit about the bike. You’re spiraling. Your safety is my top priority, Birdie. Who are they anyway? What did they do to you?”
“Did you not see their cuts? It’s an MC.” She swallows. “Shane’s MC.”
“Holy shit.”
“They usually run on the other side of town. I didn’t expect…” Her breathing accelerates. “I don’t know if they recognize me… This was a mistake. I shouldn’t have left the hotel.”
“Hey, hey, breathe. They can’t hurt you. You’re safe. Do you hear me, Birdie? You’re safe here with me.”
She nods, trying to even her breath. “Thank you, Tristan, but we really need to get out of here. Can you push the bike until we get to the gas station?”
“Forget about it. I’ll figure something out.”
She starts pushing the Ducati herself. “If they recognize me, not only will they take the bike but they’ll find out it’s you who bought it and track me down through you.”
