My chest caves a little at the sight. Figures Adora wouldn’t be with her. I don’t know why the fuck I’m still hoping.
I push off the bike and follow her. “Ria. Where are you going?”
She doesn’t even break stride. “Leave me the fuck alone, Haunt Solo.”
“I can’t, Small Fry. I’m your designated guard dog until Fang gets his ass here.”
She stops like I just spat in her face. Then she whirls around, arms crossed, face stormy.
“What?” Her voice is sharp enough to slice concrete. “You were never on my babysitter list. Did you ask for this?”
“No,” I answer slowly. She looks two seconds away from throwing something at me. “I’m just filling in for now. So… where are we going? Figured I could use the time to talk to you.”
“No. Fucking. Way.” She points her key ring at me like she’s wielding a sword. “You are not coming with me anywhere.”
I don’t stretch this any longer. I just snatch the keys from her hand and head toward the cage.
Predictably, she charges after me, trying to yank them back.
She’s tiny. Fierce. But so tiny.
With a sigh, I drop my palm on top of her head and hold her in place like an unruly toddler. She freezes and I swear there’s scorching lava coming out of her eyes.
“Give it up, Powerpuff,” I mutter. “I’m driving. We talk on the way.”
She glares up at me, cheeks red from rage or cold — or both. Definitely both. Then that wicked little smirk of hers curls across her lips.
“Oh, you’re so dead. You were already on my shit list, but congrats — your dumb ass just passed your boss and took the number one spot. Hope it’s everything you ever dreamed of.”
I tilt my head. Huh. First time I’ve felt even mildly entertained in over a week.
“Then I might as well go for it,” I say, and walk toward the cage without looking back. “Where to?”
She grumbles behind me, her feathers completely ruffled. “Groceries.”
We’ve been driving in silence for a few minutes. I’m trying to gather my thoughts when the gremlin in the passenger seat opens her mouth.
“So… no lecture about how it’s not safe to keep my legs on the dash?” she asks, all snark and sass.
I smirk, eyes on the road. “I’m an outlaw biker, Bubbles. Car safety isn’t exactly my gospel. Keep your legs wherever the hell you want.” I shrug. “But if we crash and the impact hits right? Might shear ‘em clean off. You’ll bleed out before an ambulance even gets here. Or better yet — you’ll survive. But with jelly legs. Every bone inside ‘em pulverized. Or maybe your femur will snap in half. Tear through muscle and skin and the bone will end up ripping your stomach open. Pretty picture, huh? All your insides spilling out right onto this cage’s floor.”
Her jaw drops. I don’t even have to look at her to know. I hear the way she slowly pulls her legs off the dashboard.
“What the actual fuck, Gloomy Gus,” she mutters.
I shrug again. “Just keeping it educational.”
Silence stretches. Then I get to what I actually care about.
“How’s Adora?”
“Nope.” She crosses her arms. “Not telling you shit. If she wanted you to know how she’s doing, you’d know. But she doesn’t. So you don’t.”
The words hit like a punch. But I don’t let it show. I breathe through it. Swallow the ache. I asked for it.
But she’s not done. She twists toward me fully, fury blazing in those deceptively innocent eyes.
“And while we’re at it, let me remind you of something real quick. The woman you supposedly love so goddamn much? I’m the one who saved her. You keep being a pain in my ass, but you need to check yourself. You sent her to her death and I pulled her out of it.”
