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“No fucking clue. He’s been like that for hours. Little ray of sunshine.”
“We shouldn’t be gone long,” Colt said, gathering me into his arms. He kissed me, bringing me flush against his body.
The horn blared, causing me to jump and Colt to turn around and shoot a scowl in Zip’s direction. “Bastard,” he growled. “I’ll see you soon.”
I closed the door, making sure to lock and dead bolt it. Not that it mattered. If someone was determined enough to get through the door, then a thin chain wouldn’t stop him. Boxer lounged on one of the double beds, his booted feet crossed at the ankles, smiling in reassurance.
“Take a load off, Mia. It’s gonna be a while.”
I removed my shoes and slid underneath the taupe bedspread. It was old and faded, but it was clean enough.
“Why are these motels so…”
Zip looked around at the decor. “Brown? Tacky? Trapped in the seventies?”
“All of the above.”
I closed my eyes, but instead of relief, the strain was worse.
“He’ll be fine,” he assured me.
“I know,” I said, eyes still shut. “You guys rode your bikes?”
“Yeah.”
“Where’d you stash them?”
“Cluster of trees behind this shit hole.” Boxer was quiet for a moment and then in an effort to distract me, he asked, “So you got any single friends?”
“No,” I retorted.
“How about a single cousin?”
“None of those either.”
“Leave Colt for me.”
“Never gonna happen. Besides, I already got his name on my back. You don’t think that would be a pain in the ass to remove?”
“I’ll scratch it out with a Sharpie. See? I don’t even want to cause you pain.”
“You’re not really looking for a lady, are you?” I opened one eye and peered at him. “If I recall correctly, I saw you with two naked women one morning. In broad daylight. On the clubhouse’s living room floor.”
He suggestively dragged a finger across his lip. “Thinking about me, are ya?”
“You couldn’t handle me.” I closed my eyes.
“Yeah,” he said with a laugh. “Probably not. Fucking handful that’s for sure.”
A few hours later, something woke me from a sound sleep. I shot up from the bed, scrambled to get my hair off my face, and looked to Boxer.
He was awake, alert, boots on, a pistol in his hand. He put a signal to his lips to be quiet and I nodded. On silent feet, he padded toward the door.
“Dude, it’s us,” came Zip’s agitated voice.
Boxer stuck his pistol in his vest pocket as he peeked through the peephole. A moment later, he slid off the chain, turned the lock, and opened the door.
Colt and his VP entered the motel room. I looked Colt over. He wasn’t bleeding, he had no injuries, and I breathed a sigh of relief.
