Chapter 33
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Considering she hadn’t done a single goddamn thing he’d ever asked her to do without a litany of complaints, the fact that Vanessa was quietly trotting beside him down the street, in practical black leather boots, holding Nigel in a pet carrier, was oddly satisfying.
He hadn’t known what to expect when he told her he was taking her away.
Yes, their relationship had shifted to something less hostile and more…
harmonious lately, but he still braced for her defiance at every turn.
It was part of her, and honestly, her fighting instinct was something he’d always admired.
As he led her toward an underground garage half a block away, the dank smell of urine and gasoline stung his nostrils.
Even though it was a short distance, he’d tracked their entire route the whole way, making sure there was no tail on them, no eyes he didn’t want.
He hated that he had to extract her from her life like this.
The desire to put his arm around her and reassure her was overwhelming.
Instead, he gripped the bag in his hand harder to keep from acting on the urge.
She didn’t belong anywhere near a place like this.
“So, I take it wherever we’re going, Anderson won’t be the one driving us, huh?” She pressed closer to him.
A low rumble of satisfaction vibrated through his chest at the contact. “No one knows where we’re going,” he reminded her. “It’s safer that way.”
“Is that also why you wouldn’t let me take my phone?”
Oh, she’d been sore about that. It had been harder to convince her to leave her phone in the apartment than it had been to convince her to come with him. They’d almost been delayed, for all the persuading he’d had to do.
“More or less.” No point in saying more. He didn’t want to argue again.
Apparently, she didn’t either, because she changed the topic. “I didn’t know you had a car.”
“I don’t. We’re taking my bike.”
She stopped short. “You’re joking, right?”
He said nothing.
“What? Are you hooking a trailer to the back for me to ride in? Is this going to be like those tour guides downtown that pedal you around for a hundred bucks per twenty minutes? I know I’ve done a lot of personal growth over the last few weeks, but if you expect me to stand on two pegs and hold on to your shoulders whilst you—”
“No.” His voice echoed through the lot as he cut her off.
“As entertaining as that would be, I don’t expect you to stand on two pegs while I pedal you to safety, princess.
” He returned her standoffish glare with a reassuring one of his own.
“I plan on taking you on that.” Without taking his sight off her, he pointed over his shoulder to the Harley, then bit back a smirk at the utter shock that transformed her face.
“You have a motorcycle?” she squeaked. “I knew it!”
“Did you?” He nudged her toward his bike. “Glad I’m easy to read.” He knew he wasn’t.
She might have pegged him as the biker type, but there was still so much she didn’t know. So much he’d never shown her.
Some of it she would discover in the next few hours. His carefully curated privacy was about to be shattered, but it was a price for her safety he was willing to pay.
He quickly stowed her pack in one of his saddlebags, then secured Nigel onto the rack at the back of the bike.
He tied a fleece around the carrier for extra protection.
Poor thing was going to hate this ride, but he was important to Vanessa, so he was coming.
Besides, he’d offer her more comfort than Jordan was capable of.
“Where is your bag?” Vanessa asked. “I thought we were going away for a few days.”
“Don’t worry about me.” Out of the other saddlebag, he withdrew a neatly folded leather jacket that matched the one he was wearing but was cut for a woman. “Here, put this on. The ride will be cold. This will help.”
She took the jacket tentatively. “Whose is this?”
“It’s yours.”
“You bought me a jacket?” Her tone was guarded, like she didn’t believe that he’d do such a thing.
“Who else would I buy it for?”
“I don’t know.” She got that haughty expression that she reserved for when she was pissed…or insecure. “Maybe a girlfriend or something.”
Shock nearly dislodged his jaw from its hinges. Meanwhile, Vanessa swallowed visibly and wrapped her arms around herself.
“A girlfriend?” he parroted.
“Or y-you know, a woman. A lady friend.”
Shock bled to confusion, then melted as a warmth flooded his heart. Was she jealous?
Keeping his focus on her, he closed the distance between them with slow, deliberate steps.
When her chin tipped downward, he nudged it back up with his index finger until their gazes latched.
“There is no girlfriend.” Those warm brown eyes softened with relief, and his heart did the most ridiculous flip in his chest. “No lady friends, no flings, no other women. There’s only you. ”
He hadn’t meant to let the last part slip.
It was supposed to stay locked in the vault of his inner voice.
Maybe it was the exhaustion, or the stress, or the gnawing fear that she was in more danger than anyone realized.
But the words were out now and he couldn’t take them back, so he deflected by turning back to the bike.
As soon as she put on the jacket, and the gloves that went with it, he stowed the puffer coat she’d been wearing and held up a helmet.
“This too.” He eased the helmet over her head, then clicked the buckle under her chin.
His fingers brushed the soft underside of her jaw, and he heard her soft intake of breath.
Their gazes locked again, and something ricocheted between them that he swore she must have experienced as strongly as he did because her breath caught, like his, and neither of them could look away.
Before he did something reckless, like kiss her senseless, he swung his leg over the bike and held out his hand to her. “Ever ride one of these?”
“No,” she said softly as she climbed on behind him.
Satisfaction unfurled in his chest. He liked the idea of being her first in this. There was something intimate about it.
She grabbed the side bars of her seat awkwardly.
“You can wrap your arms around my waist. It will feel the most secure your first time.” Fuck. Why did he sound like he was talking her through sex? He cleared his throat.
“Okay.” Her arms wrapped around his torso and squeezed half the air right out of him until he wheezed.
“Ease up, princess. I need to breathe if I want to get us there safely.”
She relaxed her hold the tiniest bit and slid closer, her breasts pressing against his back. The contact ignited something low in his belly. He tried to ignore it.
“Feet up on the pegs. Keep them there, even when we stop. When I turn, lean with me. Don’t fight it. While we’re on this bike, we’re one person. We move together. I’ll keep us balanced.”
When she let out a skeptical hum, he added, “I promise. Tap my chest twice if you want me to pull over and stop. If you only tap once, I’ll assume you’re good. Ready?”
She let out a soft laugh. “I don’t know. This all feels like some elaborate trust fall exercise, except we’re balancing precariously on two wheels and swerving down highways.”
He glanced back. “Well then, I guess this is your last chance to decide if you trust me or not.”
Don’t show her how terrified you are to hear the answer to that. He kept his face neutral and waited.
When she tapped his chest once and snuggled closer against his back, something tugged deep inside him.
“Where are we going anyway?” she asked.
With the flick of his wrist, he revved the engine to life, the loud roar sending a familiar thrill rushing through his body. “You’ll see,” was the answer he gave her as he rode out of the garage and onto the dimly lit street.
The drive to Cannon Beach usually took him an hour and twenty minutes. He liked to take the highway fast, pushing speed limits without exceeding them because, God knew with his record, he couldn’t afford even a speeding ticket.
But with Vanessa tucked behind him, he took it slower.
The first half of the ride, as the city turned to countryside, he sensed her anxiety in the clamp of her thighs, how her arms hugged the breath out of him every time he took a corner, and the way her chest stayed pressed his back like she was a jetpack.
It wasn’t until they hit a quiet stretch of two-lane highway through the forest that she relaxed, melting against him, her head resting on his shoulder blades.
She moved with him, her body molding against his, and he reveled in the trust it took to be that calm on her first ride, especially given the circumstances.
Motorcycles had a bad rep. Many people associated them with vicious gangs and roadside disasters. His own mother had forbidden him from getting his motorcycle license, and even though he continued to do many of the things she’d forbidden him to do, he didn’t get a bike until recently.
Before jail, he’d had a souped-up Escalade, the whole deal with tinted windows and chrome rims. For a minute, he had a Dodge Charger, but a rival crew shot it up before it met its first birthday.
When he got out of prison, he’d been flat broke and couldn’t afford more than a bus pass.
Once he settled in Portland and found a couple of jobs, he’d relied on public transportation until he scraped together money for a bicycle, one that was sturdy enough for city commuting but could take him off-road when he needed space, needed to be alone.
It wasn’t until he began working for Morgan Enterprises that the money came in faster than he’d expected.
Joel paid well. With limited expenses, Jordan’s savings piled up quickly.
Three months ago, he’d walked into a dealership and paid cash for the Harley.
That was after he’d closed on the cottage in the town of Cannon Beach.
Proof that he wasn’t scraping by anymore. Wrapping his head around that was still hard.