Chapter 6 Bullet #2
When she stood to go to the kitchen, he took the opportunity to turn his back to her and lift his helmet enough to take several long gulps of water. By the time she returned, the helmet was securely back in place.
“I have a proposal,” she said, setting a fresh glass beside him.
Archer raised an eyebrow behind his visor. “I’m listening.”
“What are your plans for tomorrow?” she asked, a hint of boldness in her voice.
Tomorrow was Sunday—the one day a week he didn’t have to be Archer Sullivan. Every Sunday consisted of a long ride with his small circle of trusted friends. Kane, Viper, Hawk, and Diesel were the only ones who knew both sides of his life, fellow veterans who valued privacy as much as he did.
“I actually have a ride planned,” he admitted. “With a few friends. We try to do it weekly.”
“Oh.” Her face fell slightly. “Of course you have plans. Sorry, I just thought—”
“You should come,” he said before he could overthink it. The words surprised him as much as they seemed to surprise her.
Her eyes widened. “With your friends? Are you sure?”
Was he sure? Bringing an outsider into his tight circle was unprecedented. Never before had any of them brought someone, let alone a woman, with them on their rides. Yet the thought of introducing Morgan to a deeper part of his private life was oddly appealing.
“I’m sure,” he said with more confidence than he felt. “They’re good people. Former military, like me. You’d like them. Kane usually comes too, but tomorrow he has other plans, so he won’t be there.”
“And they wouldn’t mind some random woman tagging along?”
Archer chuckled. “They’ll be too busy giving me hell about our helmet arrangement to worry about you.”
Morgan’s smile returned, bright and genuine. “In that case, I’d love to. But..." she gestured vaguely at herself, “What does one wear for a motorcycle ride? I’ve never been and I definitely don’t own any riding gear.”
“I’ll take care of it,” he said without hesitation. “What size shoes do you wear?”
He’d need to arrange proper riding gear by tomorrow morning—helmet, jacket, boots, gloves. Quality pieces, not some off-the-rack rental set. Viper had his moto-lifestyle brand and would know exactly who could get her outfitted overnight.
“What time?” she asked, excitement evident in her voice.
“We’re meeting at ten. I’ll pick you up at nine.” He paused, considering. “It’s a full day ride. We’ll be back late.”
“Even better.” The light in her eyes suggested she was genuinely looking forward to it. “I haven’t done anything spontaneous in... well, longer than I can remember.”
The clock on her wall read 11:27. Far later than Archer had intended to stay. He had a full day planned for tomorrow. The ride with his friends now carrying a different kind of anticipation, with Morgan in the mix, and preparations to make before then.
“I should go,” he said reluctantly.
“So soon?” There was genuine disappointment in her voice.
“I need to arrange your gear for tomorrow,” he explained, standing. “And it’s been a long day.”
Morgan stood as well, smoothing down her dress. “I had a nice time tonight. Despite—or maybe because of—all the strangeness.”
“So did I.” More than he’d had in longer than he could remember.
They moved toward the door, the narrow entryway bringing them as close as they had been when she’d been blindly touching his face. Archer could smell her perfume through his helmet—subtle, floral with a hint of jasmine and vanilla. The same scent he’d noticed when he first met her.
She looked up at him, and for a moment, he could almost feel the phantom touch of her fingers on his face again.
In his line of work, in his position, touch was rare. Handshakes, the occasional shoulder clap—always professional, never intimate. Even his previous encounters were more transactional than tender. The sensation of her exploring his features had been electrifying in its simple humanity.
“Tomorrow morning,” she confirmed, her voice softer now that they stood closer.
“Nine sharp,” he echoed with a nod.
The moment stretched, taut with possibility. Part of him—the reckless part he usually kept firmly in check—wanted to remove the helmet and kiss her properly. But that would cross a line he wasn’t prepared to cross. Introduce her to a life he wasn’t sure she’d want. Not yet. Perhaps not ever.
“Goodnight, Morgan Reeves,” he said instead, using her full name for the first time.
She smiled, catching the change. “Goodnight, Bullet No-Last-Name.”
As Archer descended the six flights of stairs and nodded to the still-suspicious security guard on his way out, he found himself immediately making mental lists.
He needed to call Diesel and let him know they’d have company tomorrow.
He needed to arrange proper riding gear for Morgan.
He needed to adjust the route to something suitable for a first-time rider.
His work phone chimed as he started the engine. The corporate world intruding on this brief escape.
A text from Kane: Preliminary review of Vertex Creative completed. Full report waiting in your secure server. Interesting findings. Acquisitions already had a light copy, now they have the in-depth one as well.
Archer paused, helmet still on, bike idling beneath him. He’d asked for the report on Morgan’s workplace out of curiosity, perhaps a desire to understand her better; he hadn’t realized they were already looking into acquiring the company.
Now, sitting outside her apartment building, the line between his worlds seemed suddenly, dangerously thin.
Tomorrow he would introduce her to his closest friends, the only people who knew him as both Archer and Bullet.
The walls he’d built between his identities were crumbling faster than he could prepare for.
But he’d heard it said a time or two about the best made plans, and how they didn’t always work out. Maybe this was one instance where it could work out, despite everything not going to plan.
He gunned the engine and pulled away from the curb, his mind already spinning with preparations for tomorrow. As the wind rushed past his helmet and the city lights blurred around him, one thought remained crystal clear:
Morgan Reeves was becoming a complication he couldn’t simply file away in either of his carefully separated lives.
And the most troubling part was that he didn’t want to.