Page 140 of Spring Break Fling

I climbed onto the back of the motorcycle, wrapping my arms around him. The engine roared to life beneath us, vibrating through our bodies, and we pulled away from the beach. The wind whipped my hair around, the salty air still clinging to our skin.

The road curved along the coastline. I pressed my cheek against Nikko’s back, feeling the muscles tense and relax beneath his shirt as he maneuvered the bike. It was exhilarating, this freedom matched only by the thrill I felt being with him.

As we rode, I thought about everything that had happened between us. It was like a whirlwind had scooped me up and set me down in a completely different life—a better one, filled with passion and adventure. It scared me sometimes how quickly everything had changed, yet it felt so incredibly right. The fear was part of the excitement. It made each moment more vivid, more vital.

Nikko pulled into his garage and parked. We walked inside to find Diego had not only brought my bags, but left a six pack of beer in the fridge and a bottle of wine along with a note that said there was an order of fried chicken, mashed potatoes, and coleslaw waiting in the fridge. And that he expected a tip.

We laughed together, grateful for the thoughtfulness—and the fact that we wouldn’t have to cook.

As he reheated the food, the comforting aroma of chicken filled the air, grounding me back to reality after the surreal, beautiful blur on the beach. “It’s perfect,” I said, meaning more than just the meal.

Nikko flashed me that heart-stopping grin and pulled two plates from the cabinet. “Eat up, babe,” he said, loading our plates high. We sat across from each other at his small kitchen table, our knees occasionally brushing. I loved these little accidental touches. They set me on fire.

Dinner was delicious, but I enjoyed the easy silence between us even more. It was comfortable. I couldn’t wait to see what tomorrow held. And the week after and the week after that.

49

NIKKO

The sound of water running behind the bathroom door had become the backdrop to my mornings lately, and honestly, I was starting to get used to it. Still, I didn’t need to stick around and hear Hannah belt out Total Eclipse of the Heart for the fourth time this week.

I pushed the door open just enough to poke my head in, steam swirling around like a bad music video. “I’m heading out. Be back in an hour.”

She peeked out from behind the curtain, her hair piled up like a soap-covered beehive. “Where are you going?”

“Just a ride.”

She narrowed her eyes. “A ride? You’re being mysterious.”

“Relax, Sherlock. I’ll be back before you have time to miss me.”

“I’m timing you,” she called as I shut the door.

Firing up the bike a few minutes later, I let the familiar rumble of the engine settle my nerves. I wasn’t heading anywhere fun, but this ride was overdue.

The warehouse looked like it had been dipped in rust. It was a perfect image for everything I’d tried to leave behind. The ocean breeze did little to mask the smell of oil and burnt rubber.

I cut the engine and stared up at the place. I knew this was probably a dangerous move. Real dangerous. But I didn’t have a chance of solving this if I didn’t try to end things. I wasn’t going to spend the rest of my days looking over my shoulder. I had to think about Hannah. I couldn’t put her in jeopardy. If she was going to be living with me, I couldn’t take chances with her safety.

I climbed off the bike and walked into the shop. The low hum of machinery mingled with the occasional burst of muffled laughter. No one paid me any attention. A few looks, but they could care less who I was or why I was there.

I remembered the place well. It was impossible to forget no matter how hard you tried. I found Braggs in his office, the guy lounging in his chair like a king holding court. His face lit up when he saw me.

“Well, well, if it isn’t Zip’s boy. Long time, Nikko.”

“Braggs.” I shut the door behind me, feeling the weight of every memory tied to this place. If I knew the first thing about explosives, I would blow this place to high heaven. The city would thank me.

He puffed on a cigar, his grin smug. “What brings you back? Don’t tell me you’re looking for work.”

“Not quite.”

“I told you I would have a job for you when you came crawling back.”

“No one is crawling anywhere,” I said. “I don’t want a fucking job. Especially not with you.”

He laughed. “You always thought you were too good for everyone.”

“No, I always thought everyone was too good for this place,” I said.