CHAPTER 21
DIMPLES
After our meal in Galway, we hit Lake Luzerne, and now we’re heading to our halfway stop in Lake George. It’s early in the season, so the town won’t be overrun by tourists, which is good with two hundred bikes rolling in. Tourists spook easily, which isn’t good for business.
With the number of bikes, a tight formation is crucial, but realistically, the pack splinters. It’s not just a ride—it’s choreography at sixty miles an hour. If the Thorns led, it’d be at seventy-five.
Traveling slower, there’s more opportunity to enjoy the buds on the trees.
With temps in the mid-sixties and the sunshine, the harsh winter is giving way to spring.
I glance over at Storm, who’s holding the handlebars with one hand and resting the other on her thigh.
It’s nice to see her relaxed. But it isn’t the scenery. It’s Shadow.
I’ve never seen Storm get snagged on a woman like this. I’m dying to quiz her, but I’ve gotta get her alone. While I love seeing her happy, alarm bells go off in my head.
A Thorn chasing a Grace is asking for trouble.
Wiz would have Shadow’s head if she started something with Storm.
An unsettling thought eats at me. Wiz could separate them with an order.
So why hasn’t she? I also worry about Frost, who’s been taking it all in.
I’m not sure how she could use it, but I don’t trust the woman.
I shift into the curve, knees tight against the tank, and let the bike do what it was built to do. The pavement hums under my tires. Halfway through, I feather the throttle and hold my speed.
Storm is next to me with her body in the same position as mine. A faraway smile parts her lips, and I know she’d like to take it at a much greater speed. For me, curves are my meditation, a place to clear my mind, so I’m not bothered by the pace.
When we near the end of the curve, I open the throttle and bring the bike upright and surge forward. Storm is right beside me. At first, I think she’s drifting, but when I look at her face, I see it’s on purpose. I shoot her a questioning look.
At the top of her lungs, she yells, “Isn’t it great to be alive?” At least that’s what I think she said since the wind takes her words.
“You’re insane,” I yell back.
She just smiles and drifts back into position.
My heart warms. It’s been a while since I’ve seen her playful side.
After years in the club, her dark, brooding personality waned.
So much so that Aces teased that she was gonna rename her Sunny.
Of course, that was an exaggeration. Storm will always have an intense, sometimes volatile energy, but since she’s been president, the lighter side of her has retreated.
A mischievous thought runs through my head, and I smile.
As road captain, I signal the pace, so I extend my left arm out beside me with my palm facing the ground. I move it up and down, letting the girls know to slow down. Storm shoots me a look, but I let off my throttle and keep giving the signal.
Once they pull away, I glance at my GPS.
Perfect. We’re about nine miles from the city limits.
I cut back further on the throttle, willing the bikes in front of us to disappear.
Despite the revving behind me, I keep up this pace for a few minutes.
When I glance over at Storm, she’s got a smirk on her face. She knows what I’m up to.
I hold the slow signal until the bikes are gone, then I flip my palm up. Come on, let’s run. I hear the roar of the engines behind me, so I accelerate harder.
At the higher speed, the chill in the spring air is more evident, and the freshness fills my lungs.
We hit seventy. Eighty. By the time we hit ninety, the rest of the formation comes into view.
We speed toward them. Before long, I realize we’re gaining on them faster than I expect, so I drop back to eighty—then seventy.
We slip back into position a half mile from city limits, and Storm raises her fist in victory. Several horns blast from behind me, signifying the girls appreciate my efforts. I let out my own battle cry. I’m not sure if anyone hears or if it gets lost in the wind, but damn, it feels good.
As soon as we roll into the lot on the other side of Lake George, Wiz marches toward us.
“Uh-oh,” Storm says under her breath as she removes her helmet. “You’re in trouble.”
I grin. “You’re the president. Not my fault you can’t control your club.”
Storm laughs.
“What the fuck is so funny?” Wiz says as she stomps up.
Storm gives her a crooked grin. “Dimples just told me a really funny joke.”
“She did, did she?” Wiz’s face is beet red. “What was it?”
Without missing a beat, Storm says, “Knock. Knock.”
“Oh, fuck you, Storm,” Wiz says, and I half expect to see spittle flying from her mouth.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Shadow approaching with a deck of cards. Amusement dances in her eyes, but her expression is stoic.
Wiz turns to me and points. “Don’t either of you ever pull a stunt like that again, or—”
“What?” I give her my best innocent look. “Tail end got loose for a minute. Did you want us to leave her behind?”
“Yeah,” Rouge says and puts her arm over Jazmin’s shoulder. “The prospect was having trouble with her gears.”
“Really?” Wiz eyes Rouge suspiciously. “And magically her gears corrected themselves?”
“User error,” Rouge says with a straight face. “You know how prospects are.”
Jazmin hangs her head and looks at the ground. “Sorry. Coming out of that curve threw me. I thought I was supposed to downshift.”
I nearly burst out laughing, but I hold it together.
“Damn it, Prospect, how many times do I have to tell you? Accelerate out of the curve,” Storm says, raising her voice. She looks at Wiz and rolls her eyes. “Prospects nowadays.”
Wiz is still looking between Storm and Jazmin, trying to find a crack in their game.
Jazmin looks up wide-eyed. “Does that mean I’m gonna haveta peel more potatoes?”
Jesus. I’m gonna lose it. Jazmin is playing it perfectly.
“Damn right.” Storm puts her hand on her hip. “And we’re making potato soup for the ladies’ auxiliary next week, so you’re gonna be peeling a lot of fucking potatoes.”
“Accelerate out of the curve,” Jazmin mutters. “Got it, Pres.”
Crap. Crap. It’s getting harder to keep a straight face. I bite the inside of my cheek.
Storm turns to Wiz. “She won’t fuck up your run again.” Then a mischievous twinkle dances in her eyes. “But I thought you would’ve sent a scout to check if we were okay.”
Wiz’s nostrils flare. She looks around like she’s wanting to escape and spots Shadow. She points and says, “Hand out the damn poker cards.” Then she turns and stomps off.
We stand there like guilty schoolchildren, waiting to see who will crack first. Shadow is biting down hard on her lip, while Storm’s upper lip trembles. Jazmin is the only one holding it together, but mischief dances in her eyes.
Finally, Storm can’t do it any longer and bursts out laughing, causing the rest of us to lose it. Wiz is far enough away from us that she either doesn’t hear, or she’s ignoring us because she doesn’t turn back.
“Jesus,” Storm says and punches Jazmin in the upper arm. “Where the hell did peeling potatoes come from?”
Jazmin smiles. “Whenever I got into trouble, my mama always made me peel the taters.”
I laugh. “I about lost it when Storm said we were making soup for the ladies’ auxiliary.”
Through her laughter, Shadow says, “Where the hell were you guys?” She looks at Jazmin. “No way you downshifted out of the curve.”
“I wanted to give the girls a little fun,” I say. “And we were going so slow…”
“So you hung back,” Shadow says.
“Yep,” Storm says. “I think we hit ninety at one point. It was beautiful.”
Shadow shakes her head. “Don’t tell Wiz, or she’ll have a coronary or call the cops. The Graces keep to the speed limit.”
I point at Jazmin. “Nope. It’s all her fault. That’s our story, and we’re sticking to it.”
Jazmin shrugs and gives Shadow a sheepish smile. “What can I say? I’m a prospect, so I don’t know what I’m doing.”
“Damn, and I was hoping you could look at my bike,” Shadow says.
“Oh, I can work on them, I just don’t know how to ride ’em,” Jazmin says with a wink. “What’s up with it?”
Shadow sighs. “It was overheating for the last five miles.”
“I’ll come with,” Storm says.
Of course she will. Any reason to stick close to Shadow.
“Shit.” Shadow waves a deck of cards. “I’m in charge of poker this stop.”
“I hope you bring me luck,” I say. “I’ve got a king and jack.”
Jazmin pulls two cards from her pocket. “Two aces, baby. I need a third.”
Shadow makes a show of shuffling the cards, doing a bridge and then reversing it before she fans the cards out.
I draw a ten, which keeps my straight alive. Shadow records my card on her clipboard before she holds the cards out to Jazmin.
Jazmin cracks her knuckles, making a big show of studying the back of the cards, before she yanks one from the deck. Without looking at the card, she says, “Ace,” and slams it onto the clipboard.
“Looks like a nine to me,” Shadow says.
We all laugh.
As Shadow records Jazmin’s draw, she chuckles. “Ouch, Storm, a three of diamonds and an eight of clubs. It’s not looking good for you.”
Storm snorts. “I’ve got this. My luck’s about to turn around.” She pulls a card and groans as she drops a two of spades onto the clipboard. “Fuck.” She winks at Shadow. “You were supposed to be my good luck charm.”
For fuck’s sake. Storm isn’t even trying to hide it anymore, and Frost is close enough to see every damn second.
Shadow smiles, even though her cheeks redden.
“I need someone to take over the cards if you’re sure you don’t mind looking at my bike,” Shadow says to Jazmin.
“It’d be my pleasure,” Jazmin answers.
Shadow waves to Edge, the Graces’ VP, who wanders over. She greets us before she asks Shadow what she needs.
Once Shadow explains about her bike, Edge says, “Not a problem.” She takes the cards and clipboard from Shadow and points toward Frost. “Maybe I’ll see if Frost will help me out.”
I try not to show my surprise. I’d noticed the pair were quite chummy at the last stop, but I’m not liking this.
“I’m not a mechanic,” I tell Edge. “So I’ll stay and help you with the cards.”