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“Why?”
Griz shrugged. “Going to stomp on his head until he’s dead.”
“What?” Becca said. “Ew! No! No… head… stomping!”
“Why not?”
“Just… come on, let’s just get out of here. We need to get you to the hospital.”
“I’m fine.”
Becca gestured around at the motel. All over, doors were cracking open and curtains were being pulled aside, and curious faces were peeking out and looking at the commotion.
“There’s a million people looking, Griz. Besides, what if there’s more of them? The Skull Face guys? Hiding nearby or something?”
Griz paused. “More Death’s Head?”
“Yes!”
“That’s a good point,” Griz said. “We should go.”
“Exactly. See? I know what I’m doing,” Becca said, setting off down the walkway.
“Your bags, Becca.”
“Right, I know,” Becca said, scurrying back the way she came. “I knew that.”
12
Before today, Becca would’ve told anyone willing to listen that she hated motorcycles and everything about them. The noise, the exhaust, the people that rode on them… everything about them was a no-go for her.
But now… now, she didn’t seem to mind, as she sat on the back of Griz’s motorcycle and held on tight as they sped out of the motel parking lot and into the night. Now, the noise of the engine and the feel of it vibrating beneath her was a sort of comforting buzz, smoothing out her nerves after her close call with Skinny.
Now, the smell of the exhaust was blown away by the wind as they pushed through the air, leaving Becca with nothing but deep, clean breaths of fresh air. Now, she felt comfortable with her arms wrapped tightly around Griz, hanging on to keep from falling off, but if she was being honest, she was leaning in to his back a little more than she needed to, grateful for the close contact so soon after being so terrified.
The fear of the encounter with Skinny was starting to fade, slowly being replaced by the thrill of hanging on to Griz on the back of a motorcycle speeding through the night. She supposed she could see the appeal of it, now, riding a motorcycle, although she wasn’t completely sold on the experience.
She had no idea where they were going, but she found herself putting her trust in Griz completely, even as he steered the motorcycle down a long, winding dirt road. It seemed to go on for quite a ways back, away from the main road and deep into the trees.
Finally, they came to a halt. The motorcycle’s headlight partly illuminated a small, quaint looking cottage that seemed nestled perfectly among the trees, fitting in like part of the natural scenery.
“Where are we?” Becca said after she pulled her helmet off.
“This is my dad’s fishing cabin,” Griz said. “We used to come here a lot as kids, me and Wyatt.”
“And nobody’s here now?”
“Nobody. Dad hasn’t been out here in a month or two… I don’t think anybody other than me and Wyatt even knows where this place is. Dad wanted to have a place away from the club, away from everything.”
“I’d say this qualifies,” Becca said, looking around at the trees. She didn’t see any other lights anywhere; no neighbors within a mile or more, perhaps.
“Don’t worry,” Griz said. “It’s not as rough as it looks. We even have running water and a flush toilet.”
“Wow. Luxury,” she said, climbing off of the bike.
Griz unlocked the front door and led her inside, switching on the lights as he went. It was a small cabin, mostly consisting of a bedroom, kitchen, and living room, with a small screened in patio on the far side of the living room. Becca thought she could hear a creek somewhere in the darkness outside past the patio.
“We’ll be safe here for the night,” Griz said. “You can relax.”
