“So he likes to remind me.”
“He likes you, you know.”
I scoff in disbelief. “He has an interesting way of showing it.”
Roz stops and folds her arms over her chest. “He’s a prick, there’s no doubt about it, but I care for that prick, so you better remember that. Now, do what he says and get outta here. I’vegot this.” Roz winks. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” She turns around, dismissing me, and continues to stock the cooler. I push the cleaning spray and rag toward her and head to the back.
By the time I push through the back door, into the alley where Aiden mutilated Ricky, I’ve changed into the clothes I wore in for my shift—yoga tights and an off-the-shoulder tee over a comfortable sports bra. My girls are thanking me for the break from the underwire push up I rocked all night. Aiden is waiting, leaning against his Harley, halfway through a cigarette, looking like the man of my lust-filled nightmares.
I wrinkle my nose. “Myfirst rule? I’ll never be with a man who smokes. It’s repulsive.” Aiden brings his cigarette to his lips and takes a long, exaggerated drag. The rings on his first two fingers glint in the glow of the streetlight as he exhales, blowing the smoke right into my face. I choke and turn my head as he shows me once more that he simply doesn’t give a fuck what I think. He pulls a black helmet from the throttle of his bike and hands it to me.
I take it reluctantly. “So, what, I’ve earned the right to ride with you now?” I ask quickly.
He looks at me in all seriousness, despite my sarcasm. “Defending Cara the other night, standing up for her without hesitation…” His eyes move over my face. “Yeah, you’ve earned it.”
What he’s really saying, in his own terms, is that he respects me for what I did, and I hate that it makes me feel warm inside.
“Let’s go.” He tosses the last of his smoke into a puddle at my feet, almost hitting my shoe.
“Charming,” I offer, as I slowly step around it.
I guess I’m not moving fast enough for his liking, because he takes the helmet from me, places it on my head, and clips the strap under my chin. The thick definition of his neckstrains as he looks down at me. “Don’t give a flying fuck about charming you.”
I scoff. “Is that any way to treat your ol’ lady?”
“Just get on the fucking bike, Mia.” He puts on his own helmet, then climbs on the bike and fires it up. The sound of the engine rumbles through me, adding to the live-wire feeling I already have just from being near him.
“Dick,” I mutter, making sure the helmet is secure on my head. Wanting himandwanting to hit him is a dangerous combination.
Putting my foot on the kick and climbing onto the bike behind him comes easily.
“This isn’t your first time on a bike,” he notes.
I’ve been riding on the back of a bike since I was a little girl. The slow, heavy rumble of a Harley is the sound of my childhood.
“Nope” is all I offer as I widen my legs and take a deep breath before wrapping my arms around his waist. It’s inevitable to touch him, so I own it, willing myself not to feel anything as I pull in close, settling my arms around his warm, chiseled body. He’s so large it’s like trying to hug a bear.
But then he surprisesme, hooking his fingers behind my knees to pull me in even closer. I do my best to ignore the electricity zinging up my thighs as his big hands grip me, and the tightening in my chest as I press it to his wide, leather-clad back and inhale the smoky, spicy scent of him.
I fight the desire with everything in me, but as he pats both my hands and then revs the throttle, adrenaline flows through my veins.
“Where are you taking me?” I ask, realizing I hadn’t before.
“Wherever the fuck I want.”
Chapter 21
Mia
The coastal plains of the Georgia countryside are dark and ominous at night. Miles of farm fields line the roads as I cling tight to Aiden—the man I now temporarily belong to. I have no idea where he’s taking me. We rode down the I-24 for at least twenty minutes after leaving Lakeside. I’m keeping some faith, but a small part of me worries he’s decided I’m more trouble than I’m worth and is about to murder me and dump my body.
My fears are quelled when Aiden pulls off the highway into the parking lot of a long rectangular building, which looks to be a glorified trailer. The front is all glass windows, and the lights inside are low. There are fewer than ten cars in the parking lot, and a large, angular sign spins slowly overhead in neon blue and pink:Diner 24 Hours.
“Aww, our first date, dinner at eleven p.m.,” I chirp with a wrinkle of my nose as I unclip my helmet and hang it from the handlebar.
“This isn’t a date,” Aiden says, doing the same and turningto head in. He looks back over his shoulder. “And you should consider yourself lucky to eat here,” he adds.
I don’t argue as I follow him up wooden steps that have clearly seen better days. This seems safe enough, but still, I brush my hand over my hip, and the familiar feeling of my razor-sharp Adamas knife clipped to the inside waistband of my tights settles me.
