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“How are you gonna get back home?” Dante asked as he mimicked her posture and crossed his arms.
Bulging biceps covered in colorful tattoos caught Sage’s attention. There were names and dates in cursive as well as a military logo. She’d studied the tattoos from pictures she’d taken of him, but pictures had nothing on the real thing.
Then she realized she was staring and looked up. Dante smiled that shit eating grin again.
“I’ll find a way. I called Sam on my way here, but he’s out of town this weekend.”
Sam Jones owned the Long Road Diner, the only restaurant within a twenty-mile radius. He’d been one of the first people in town to welcome her. The widower was in his fifties, a man with a strong work ethic and kind eyes. They shared friendly dinners and sometimes, a game of cards. Sage appreciated his kindness and understood the man’s loneliness. Even though she’d had to remind him a time or two that she could only offer friendship.
Nothing could disrupt her focus.
Dante looked her over again. “I can give you a ride back, if you don’t mind getting on my bike.”
“Oh, uh, okay. Thanks, I appreciate it,” she replied and glanced at the far end of town then back at Dante. “Was that Jesse?”
Dante flinched and his eyes hardened.
Goosebumps popped up all over her skin, until Dante looked away.
“Yeah, he works for me part-time. Just let me grab my stuff. Pull your car into the first dock.”
The wind had picked up and her long hair blew around her face. She opened her door and sat down, starting up the engine again. It barely rumbled to life, and then the muffler started to rattle. Shifting into drive, she pulled into the first bay as instructed and parked. Hauling her purse into her lap, she slid out of the car and wandered back outside.
Dante was busy closing the shop, so she walked around his bike and admired it. She’d ridden a few motorcycles back in B.C. and conceded it might be nice to own one out here. It was safe enough since there were so few drivers on the roads in and around town.
Then again, if another biker crew was moving in, maybe not.
“Like what you see?” Dante asked as he sauntered up beside her.
He was dressed in dark jeans, a plain black t-shirt, his cut, and his leather boots.
“I’m considering buying one of my own. Second-hand,” Sage replied and ignored Dante’s innuendo. “Plenty of roads out here to roam, no traffic, no chaos. I imagine it’s great riding.”
“Once you get one, you’re hooked. There’s nothing like that power between your legs and the freedom of the road. Makes you feel fucking alive.”
Sage met his eyes head on.
She couldn’t remember the last time she felt alive. Before Rosemary’s death.
Something in Dante’s gaze told her that he recognized her pain. Or maybe it was a trick of the eye in the darkness.
The moment passed when Dante shoved a black helmet in her hand and turned, straddling the bike. Gunning the engine, he waited for her to get on.
Maybe she hadn’t thought this part through. Not only would she have to hold onto him for the next ten minutes, but her whole body was going to be pressed up tight against him.
Don’t be stupid. He’s like Sam. He’s harmless.
Then Sage looked at Dante’s wide back and his cut. The H&H logo was worn. There were faint spatters of pink on the lettering and suddenly she wondered if that meant old bloodstains. The man was in an outlaw crew after all. She’d do well to remember that. He was no different than Padraig and Midnight Carnage.
Bikers that ignored the regular rule of law to forge one of their own. With no regard for human life. They were drug runners, gun smugglers, killers…harmless, my ass.
Still, she was on a mission. And getting close to H&H was a means to an end.
She shoved the helmet on and adjusted the chin strap. Slowly, she threw one leg over the bike and sat down, sliding in behind Dante.
“Move closer and hold onto my waist or you’ll be in danger of falling off!” he yelled.
Sage leaned in, her body notching into Dante’s perfectly.
