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“Shit. Hallie, we gotta go.” I push the helmet over her head and climb onto the bike. “Get on.”
She glances back at the approaching reporter, then looks back to me, knowing she has no other option. Swinging her leg over the back of the bike, she climbs on behind me, her arms snaking around my waist. I can feel from her grip, and her racing heart as she presses her front to my back, she’s terrified. Covering her hand with mine, I ride as fast as possible to get her as far away from her nightmare.
ChapterEight
Hallie
As my hands grip tighter onto the material of Sawyer’s T-shirt, I press my body closer to his, convinced that with every turn of the bike I’m going to fall off. One of his hands is covering mine in what I think is a gesture of reassurance. It’s not working. I’m terrified. I’ve never been on the back of a motorcycle, and if that reporter hadn’t noticed me, I’d still have my feet planted firmly on the ground.
We’ve been riding for about five minutes, although it feels like five hours when Sawyer pats my hand and looks over his shoulder. “You okay?” he shouts over the noise of the air rushing past us.
“Don’t turn around! Look where you’re going,” I yell into his ear, feeling the bike slightly turn as he moves. His stomach ripples under my fingers as he laughs, and I smack his stomach, my hands letting go briefly on the death grip I have on his T-shirt.
“I’m going to pull over,” he shouts, laughter still evident in his voice. I drop my helmet-covered head onto his back, opening my eyes as the bike slows down, eventually stopping on the side of the road. Releasing my grip on him, I climb off, my legs shaking as I stand. I pull at the helmet to get it off, but it’s stuck, so I panic, pulling harder on the strap under my chin.
“Hey, calm down. Let me…” Sawyer reaches over, his hand gently pushing mine away. Within seconds, he’s released the clasp on the helmet and is gently lifting it off my head. I drop my hands to my knees and draw in mouthfuls of air as I calm down. I’m overreacting, but I am powerless to stop it.
“Are you okay?” Sawyer asks, his voice full of concern.
Taking in a few more breaths, I stand up, my cheeks flushed with embarrassment. He thinks I’m freaking out about being on the bike. He’s right, but it’s not only that. I’ve never been this alone with a guy before. I’ve never allowed myself to be in a position where any guy can get close. But I can’t tell Sawyer that. I’m sure he already thinks I’m crazy. Instead, I tell him what he already knows.
“I’m sorry. I’ve just… never been on a bike before and after everything today…” I pause, “… it’s too much.”
Taking my hand, he pulls me gently away from the road, sitting with me on the curb next to where he’s parked the bike.
“Take as long as you need. There’s no rush to be anywhere.”
“But I have to get back on there, don’t I?” I gesture to the bike before meeting his eye.
He flashes me a small smile. “I’ll go slow. I promise.” He stares at me with sympathy and confusion, trying to figure me out. One minute, I’m yelling at him, and the next, I’m crying. Hell, at this point, even I can’t figure myself out. He doesn’t stand a chance.
“How far away is your place?”
“Tybee Island.”
“Shit! That’s far.”
“Not that far.” We sit in silence for a few minutes, the traffic rushing past. Knowing I have to get back on the bike, I eventually stand and take the helmet from Sawyer’s hands.
“Come on, let’s get this over with.” I pull the helmet on, and now that my hands have stopped shaking, I’m able to do up the clasp.
“I bet you end up loving this bike,” Sawyer says with a grin as he pushes away the kickstand and throws his leg over, settling into the seat.
“Don’t count on it.” I climb on the back, my hands immediately going around his waist again.
“Try keeping your eyes open this time and less of the death grip. I promise you won’t fall off.”
“How did you know I had my eyes closed?”
“Lucky guess.” He chuckles.
I roll my eyes and increase my grip around his stomach. He laughs again and starts the engine, waiting for a gap in the traffic so we can join the interstate. Spotting one, he opens up the throttle, and if at all possible, I hold on even tighter as he pulls away, my body moving backward slightly. I start to close my eyes but remember what he said and keep them open. I never got the chance to do anything reckless as a teenager. While riding a motorcycle at twenty-four isn’t up there with the craziest of things, it’s the craziest thing I’ve ever done.
My parents, understandable after what happened, were reluctant to let me out of their sight when I returned from Cedar Falls. I can’t help but smile now as I think about how much my mom would freak if she knew my close protection officer had me on the back of a motorcycle. I don’t think she’d have been so quick to push me into agreeing to protection if she’d known.
Despite not wanting to admit Sawyer was right, the longer I spend on the back of his bike, the more I enjoy it. The wind whips my long hair around my helmet, and dropping my head back, it almost feels like I’m flying. I’m still holding on tightly to Sawyer, but maybe not as tight as I was. I feel so free like nothing and no one can touch me. Sawyer squeezes my hand—he must be able to tell I’ve relaxed a little.
“Not far now,” he shouts. “Just a few minutes.” Even though he can’t see me, I nod and take in my surroundings. We’re on a suburban street, and he slows the bike down as kids play on the sidewalk. I’ve been to the beach on Tybee Island hundreds of times, but I’ve never been where Sawyer’s taking me. The street is lined with trees, and the houses are nice. I wonder if he lives in one of them and how much a close protection officer earns if he can afford to live on a street like this. We don’t stop at any of the houses, though. Instead, we come up alongside an apartment block not dissimilar to mine. He slows the bike down a little more as we go into an underground parking lot.
