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She smiled at me. “It wasn’t much of a risk.”
I leaned over the rail and stared down into the choppy water below. Big Sur was temperamental on a good day. Most people knew not to mess around in her waters. Yet, this woman had dove in head first.
“Sure.” I saw Drew motion for me. “So, can I get that ride?”
Her lips quirked at my blunt question, but she nodded. “Okay.”
“I’ll be right back.” Jogging over to my friend, I winced as the water sloshed in my boots. They were ruined. My fucking cut probably was, too. My bike was gone. My siren was literally the only positive thing about this day.
“What’s the plan?” Drew asked.
“I’m going to catch a ride with her,” I answered, pointing my thumb over my shoulder.
His brows shot up. “What about Eric?”
“We know where that asshole is headed, thanks to Rat. Fuck off and let me have this one.”
Rat was our Austin chapter’s resident computer genius. The only person who came anywhere close to his skill was his wife. He and his wife Ari had been helping us keep tabs on Eric. He’d been evading us for too long not to bring them in. They were talented enough that it wasn’t a risk to have them help. Every time Eric scurried into a hole, making it impossible to find him, they stepped in. They worked their black magic and always found him. A street camera, an ATM, there was always a way.
“I’ll meet you back at the club,” I told him with a grin. Not only would riding with her be more comfortable since I was soaked to the bone, but I’d have the added benefit of getting to know her.
He shot a smirk at the woman who was waiting by her car for me. It occurred to me I hadn’t asked her name, or told her mine.
“Alright. Later.” Drew started up his bike and took off down the winding road.
I walked back over and we got into her little car. She’d laid towels down over the seats, but we were still going to get things wet.
Sliding my seat all the way back, I stretched my legs as far as they would go in the cramped passenger seat. Her car was not made for a man who was six-three. I had to slouch in my seat so my head didn’t hit the ceiling. She looked to be about five-eight or so. I wondered why she hadn’t bought a bigger car. This thing had to be too small for her to comfortably drive.
“What’s your name?” she asked, as she pulled out onto the road.
“Trip.”
She shot me a look of disbelief. “Were you exceptionally clumsy as a child?”
I chuckled at her teasing. “No, it’s my road name. I’m in a motorcycle club.” There’d been an incident with a trap I’d set once. It’d been a whole thing—one I didn’t care to tell a stranger—and ever since they’d called me Tripwire. It was that fucking squirrel’s fault that my device hadn’t worked properly. That didn’t keep my brothers from hounding me about it. Luckily for them I was a forgiving guy. One who liked to laugh, even if it was at myself.
She nodded and motioned to my cut. “Figured.”
“You know much about MCs?” I asked, shrugging off the sopping leather. Next I tugged off my shirt while she turned up the heat. We were both still shivering despite the seventy-degree weather outside. The cold Pacific waters had leached all heat from our bodies. I’d offer to lay in the backseat, skin to skin with her if I wasn’t worried about her kicking me out of her car. Being left, stranded, on the side of the road wasn’t the ending that I wanted for this day.
“Not really. I’ve just seen them riding around in San Francisco.” She bit her lush bottom lip as she glanced over at my naked chest and abs. “They look a lot like you.”
Interesting. “Like me how?” I wasn’t offended, just wondering how she saw me. I made sure to flex for her.
“Huge, tattoos, leather, boots, and looking like they could beat you to death in a few minutes,” she admitted, eyes darting back toward the road as twin spots of color appeared on her cheeks.
She wasn’t wrong exactly. “We never beat anyone we like to death,” I admitted.
Her eyes widened as her lips parted in surprise. “That’s…comforting.” Her tone was equal parts amused and worried.
She was an enigma, one I wanted to figure out. I got the distinct impression that she wasn’t the type to give rides to strange men, yet she’d rushed headlong into the ocean to help me. Maybe my initial impression that she was impulsive wasn’t quite on the nose. “Why does that surprise you?”
“That means you beat people you don’t like to death?”
I scratched the back of my neck and shot her an innocent look. “Is that a bad thing?” I said it with a joking smile, but really she was closer than she’d be comfortable realizing.
I wasn’t about to admit to her that I was far from what society would consider a ‘good guy’. In fact, I was a criminal. Some would say a psychopath due to the things I did for my club. It was the lifestyle I’d chosen and it suited me. Telling her that too soon would send her running in the opposite direction and that was the last thing I wanted.
