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“Hey!” I yell at her. She ignores me and keeps trucking down the street at a fast clip.
“Goddamnit.” I jog over to my bike, fire it up, then pull out onto the street and come up even with her a few seconds later. “Who the fuck was that?” I call to her over the sound of the engine. “What did he want with you?”
“His name is Hooch. And none of your business,” she calls back without turning around. Her face is angled away and obscured by a large pair of sunglasses and a ball cap she’s got pulled low on her forehead. For some reason, she won’t look in my direction. Maybe she’s embarrassed or something. But even though I can’t see her face, I can tell she’s a looker. She’s got a hot as fuck body, in tight little jeans and a T-shirt that’s molded to her. Her tits aren’t huge, but the swell of them makes my dick jump to attention. Something about her calls to me. I don’t know quite what it is.
“You need a ride somewhere?” I try again.
“I’m fine!” she shouts. “Thanks for helping me. You can go now!”
I start to get frustrated. “Look, I knocked that asshole out, but there’s no telling how long he’ll be unconscious. When he comes to, he’s probably gonna come looking for you. It’d be best if you weren’t out here somewhere he could find you.”
She slows down a little at my words. I can tell I’ve hit a nerve.
“Come on,” I urge her, pushing my advantage. “Let me take you somewhere. Home, or wherever you need to go.”
I see her sigh. Her shoulders sag, and she gives me a little nod, still looking away from me.
“Okay.”
She ducks her head as she walks toward the bike, the bill of her cap still obscuring her face. Wordlessly, she climbs onto the seat behind me.
“You ever been on a bike before?” I ask her.
A snort erupts from her. “Yes,” she says sarcastically. “I have been on a bike before.”
Damn, there is really something familiar about this chick. She sure has an attitude, though. All I’m trying to do is help her out. But I’m not gonna call her on it, because something tells me that if I do she’ll just hop off the bike and walk away without another word. And I really don’t want to have to keep following her down the street like some damn stalker.
“Okay, good,” I say patiently. “Then you’ll know to keep your feet on those damn pegs and to not put them down when we stop. You think you can remember that?”
She huffs out a breath. “This is a seriously bad idea,” she says under her breath.
“Look, I’m just trying to get you somewhere safe, okay? Calm the hell down. Where’m I taking you?”
“Just drive,” she says tightly. “I’ll tell you where to go.”
I don’t press it. I put the bike back into gear. She slides her arms around me, loosely, like she’s trying not to touch me. For a couple minutes, we just ride. I feel like maybe she’s trying to decide where to have me take her. Maybe she doesn’t want me to know where she lives. I don’t ask any questions, though. I just keep driving like she says. To be honest, there’s something about having her back there that makes me want to keep her there for a while.
“You okay back there?” I ask after a while, just to make conversation.
For a second. She doesn’t reply. Then she leans forward.
“You really don’t recognize me. Do you?”
I frown. “How would I recognize you? I haven’t even seen your face, behind those glasses and your cap.”
But again, there’s something about her voice. Low and throaty, with just enough of a sexy rasp to make my dick stir in my pants. It has sounded familiar since back in the parking lot. But I didn’t really think much about it.
“You still got that tattoo on your right bicep?” she asks.
“Sweetheart, I got a whole mess of tattoos,” I shoot back. “Bikers generally tend to…”
I trail off as it finally hits me. What she’s saying.
And who she is.
Jesus Christ.
“Kat?” I ask, stunned.
