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I’m surprised that she’s been able to come out of her shell so quickly. I mean, we’re not even finished with our burgers yet and she’s talking to us as if she’s known us her whole life rather than less than a week—for me anyway. Barely a few hours, for Reaper.
But I think that’s part of her charm. Part of what makes her so special. No matter what room she’s in, I imagine that people gravitate to her. And when they’re in her orbit, it’s easy for me to see just how special she makes each and every person feel.
Molly is one of those people who’s able to connect to everybody around her on some level and make whoever she’s talking to feel heard and seen. It’s a rare gift. It’s certainly not one I have. But to be in the presence of somebody who does is an incredible feeling.
Even more than that though, I feel like she and I are connecting on an entirely different level. I really felt it when we were sitting on that bench behind the clubhouse. It wasn’t just stories and the usual getting to know you garbage we were sharing. We were talking about things that mattered to us. Things that hit each of us on a deep level. I can’t say we totally bared our souls to each other but if we’d had more time, we very well might have.
Our connection is genuine and strong. When I notice the way she looks at me, I don’t think it’s simply misplaced affection for somebody who’s saved her life, as sometimes happens. At least, I hope not. When I look into her eyes, I see something deeper. I see something real. That’s what I keep telling myself anyway. It just feels like she has the same feelings I do when she looks at me, when she holds my hand, when she lays her head on my back and squeezes me tight as we ride.
I want to believe she feels the connection between us every bit as strongly as I do. There’s still so much up in the air and to be sorted out. I suppose we’ll see what happens. But it’s like I said earlier: whether it’s a day or a year, I’m going to enjoy every single minute I have with her.
We finish up our meals and thank Dawn for her outstanding service. After we pay our bill and make sure we leave a healthy tip for her, we head out to the parking lot. We get to our bikes and start to gear up with our helmets and gloves.
“Probably best for us to lie low for a little bit,” I tell Reaper. “We don’t want the Howlers showing up in Vegas and finding us there when they thought they found my dead body.”
“Good point,” he nods. “Probably best to let things cool down before you start poking your face around town. I’ll head back to the clubhouse and catch up Old Grim on everything. It’s all good. And if they come out to Vegas with questions, I’ll contact you.”
“I appreciate that, Prez. I owe you big time.”
“So do I,” Molly says. “So, thank you.”
He shakes his head. “No you don’t. Just keep yourself safe—and keep her even safer.”
“I’ll do that,” I nod. “Thanks for everything, brother.”
“Hey, if you really want to pay me back, if you’ve got a sister…”
We all share a laugh before I pull Reaper into a tight hug. He claps me on the back, and we wish each other well then climb onto our bikes and head out. Molly and I are racing down the road and I hear her laughing as she enjoys the sun on her face and the wind in her hair. It’s all just as it should be.
“Where are we going?” she has to shout in my ear.
I turn my head. “You’ll see.”
“You have a plan, huh?”
I nod. “I have a plan.”
“You always do.”
I give the bike a little more throttle and we tear off down the highway, chasing the sun.
CHAPTERTWENTY-TWO
After stopping at an outlet mall to get some clothes and other essentials on the way out of Nevada, Hawk stops at a small hotel after we crossed into California. We dismount and I have to say, my legs are a little shaky. Riding on the back of a bike is thrilling and scary all at the same time, but it’s also hell on my legs and back.
He gives me a smile and leads me to the office. I walk in and the first thing that I notice is that this place is nice. Very nice. It’s not a resort or anything, but I don’t think I’ve ever been inside a hotel this nice, even in my life before. There are plants artfully arranged throughout the lobby and jazz music softly tinkling from hidden speakers somewhere.
Hawk takes one look at my dazzled expression and chuckles. “Nobody would expect a biker to come to a place like this, right?” He taps his forehead with one finger. “Even if the Howlers somehow regrouped and found their way out west, they’d think we stopped at some ratty-ass motel. Not a fine establishment like this.”
A bell above the door chimes as we step forward and an older man steps out of a back room and greets us with a warm expression. He’s about average height, slim, and has a head full of iron-gray hair. He kind of reminds me of how I think my dad would look at his age. It’s a thought that sends a ripple of sadness through my heart. More than almost anything, I want to know where my folks are right now. I want to know what happened to them after I was taken. I want to know they’re all right.
“How we doin’ today, folks?” he asks.
“Doin’ well,” Hawk answers.
“That’s good to hear. Now, what can I do for ya?”
“We’d like two rooms for the ni—”
