Chapter 14 #2
Carefully, I remove it and place it on the workbench next to me.
I’m tempted to destroy it. Or maybe lean in close and whisper Sergeant Allen has a tiny penis .
For now, I leave it be and focus on checking the rest of my bike—body, brakes, tires, fluids.
It takes hours, but I’m thorough, ensuring that everything is as it should be before puzzling the metal innards back together.
By the time I’m done, it’s almost nightfall.
Me:
Left a little gift from the sergeant in your desk drawer. Don’t get too chatty around it.
Axe:
10-4
I walk my motorcycle out of the garage and into the parking lot before kicking my leg over it. I crank the ignition and let the engine idle while I tug on my helmet and zip up my leather jacket.
The stress leaks from my body the second I put it into gear and start down the road.
This is what I needed.
Wheel to pavement, open air, the shake of the engine thrumming in my chest as I pick up speed and rip through town. A moment to let go. To forget about my messy life and focus on clearing my mind, on the oxygen pouring into my lungs.
The back roads leading to the old farmlands surrounding South Bay have seen better days. Asphalt cracked and crumbling at the edges, potholes scattered across the blacktop. But empty. Perfect for the kind of ride I need right now. Fast and wild and unincumbered by traffic.
When I hit the first stretch of pavement, I crank the throttle, riding on the centreline and picking up speed.
With the faded yellow strip painted on the road as my guide, I tear down the old, battered highway, the headlight lighting up the night, the forest to my left blurring, the fields to my right a smeared sea of browns and greens.
The road bends, and as I curve with it, I catch a light flashing in my side mirror.
Headlights. One headlight.
Shit.
A bike. Someone following me.
My stomach does a little flip, and I pick up my speed, eyes trained on that white glow. It’s too dark to make out any identifying insignia, but the rider is gaining ground, that light getting bigger in my mirror at the same rate my pulse picks up.
Keegan.
I kick up my speed.
One hundred, one-ten, one-twenty.
Too fast, but not fast enough, the distance between me and the man on my tail quickly shrinking.
I ease on the throttle and swerve to avoid a cluster of badly patched potholes, then again when I dodge the crater-sized divot slicing across my lane.
I don’t know these roads anymore—the thick fissures scarring the old asphalt, the sharp bends as the road winds through the valley edging the town line, the massive break in the pavement that’s suddenly appeared out of nowhere.
Oh shit?—
I hit my brakes too late and slam over the edge of the sunken gash that stretches across the road.
My tail zigzags, my bike wobbling. Heart lurching, I white-knuckle my grips, moving my body with the machine and trying like hell to regain control.
I brace for a crash, ready to eat pavement as I hurtle towards the approaching guard rails, the rock-cut.
Shit. Shit . This will fucking kill me.
Gritting my teeth, I pull on my handlebars, willing them to steady. By some miracle, the bike obeys, the wobble evening out just as I curve around the bend and hit another straight stretch of road.
Heart hammering against my ribs, my whole body trembling, I slow to a stop.
A second later, the bike on my heels pulls up beside me. Leather jacket, black helmet, black sports bike. One I recognize.
The rider cocks his head as he flicks up his visor. “Nice save,” Decker says. “See you got your bike back.”
I flip up my own as I swallow the vomit trying to claw its way up my throat. Never let ’em see you sweat. “Yeah, I did.”
“Everything… uh, working as it should be?” he asks, eyes wandering over my machine.
“There were a few… bugs. Courtesy of that bag of dicks you call a sergeant. But I handled it.”
He snorts. “Sergeant Bag of Dicks will be very unhappy to learn that.” His expression shifts from amused to serious. “You need to be careful in these parts, Grace. It’s not safe driving like that out here.”
Yeah. No fucking shit.
He jerks his head to the road in front of us. “You wanna tear up the pavement, I know a place. If you’re game.”
I arch a brow. “I’m always game.”
He lets out a low chuckle, barely discernable over the growl of our machines, then motions for me to follow.
I tread a distance behind him as he leads me out of the valley and deeper into farm country.
He slows when the pavement begins to smooth out, then stops completely as we approach a train crossing.
“After the tracks, you got a good few kilometres of straight stretch. A couple sharp curves towards the end, but otherwise it’s a pretty clean ride,” he says over the purr of his bike. “Might get the odd tractor traffic, but this time of night, roads are pretty well dead.”
“Police?” I ask.
He grins. “Just me.”
I roll my eyes. “What are you even doing out here? Shouldn’t you be out brutalizing innocent civilians or whatever the hell it is you cops do after the sun goes down?”
“Just taking my girl here out for some exercise,” he says as he pats his machine.
“What is it with men assigning a gender to all their favourite toys? Did you give her a slutty name too?”
“Definitely. But you watch that pretty mouth when you’re talking about her. She’s beautiful, reliable, and fast as all hell. The perfect woman.”
I scoff. “Fast, huh? Prove it.”
That gorgeous smile of his broadens. “Careful. You might have a little speed on me with that thing, but I’m a hell of a rider. I’ll out-maneuver you easy.”
My bike growls as I rev my engine, a challenge lying between us. “On a straight stretch? Please. I could do this in my sleep.”
“Let’s go, then.” He points to the overgrown wheat fields in the distance.
Now that the sun has set, they’re near black.
“Can’t see it from here, but there’s a white farmhouse at the end of the stretch.
Big tree in the front yard. First one to pass it wins.
Let’s see what you got, Gracie.” He snaps down his visor and rolls slowly over the tracks.
I follow suit and line up my front wheel with his. Then I exhale a deep breath. I may not know these roads, but I know my bike, and I sure as hell know how to leave a man in the dust.
“I’ll count us down,” he yells with a rev of his engine.
I do the same, matching his volume.
“Three!”
I adjust my grip and squeeze my handlebars, laser focused on the road ahead.
“Two!”
Then he’s gone, blasting ahead of me.
I yank on the throttle and race after him, a string of curses escaping me.
Asshole.
With my eyes glued to the red glow of Decker’s taillight, I slice through the space between us, wind whipping past me, my engine screaming. Adrenaline surges through my veins as I shift gears and ramp up my speed.
We’re both punching well over a hundred as I catch up.
I move to pass, but he swerves in front of me.
To avoid slamming into him, I pull back and maneuver to the right, losing the precious ground I’d gained.
At these speeds, we’re already running out of road, that sharp curve he mentioned approaching fast as we rush down the old highway, fighting for the lead, for the win.
I jerk down on the throttle and accelerate, but the moment I make headway, he cuts me off again and forces me to slow.
Releasing a breath, I squint through the dark and refocus on the road ahead. That curve. It’s coming. Sudden, sharp, winding through the miles of farmland to another straight stretch. The farmhouse is just on the other side. The finish line. I know what I need to do to cross it first.
There’s no way in hell I’m letting him win.
Decker slows slightly as he hits the first bend, but I kick up my speed, hitting the gravel lining the edge of the road and slicing straight through, barely making it out without crashing, without killing myself. But the move puts me just in front of him.
A second later, I’m tearing past the farmhouse.
“Hell yeah!” I yell as I stop in front of the overgrown gravel driveway and kill my engine.
Decker rolls up beside me as I’m yanking off my helmet and does the same, a grin painted on his face. “Just gonna say it, Gracie. You look sexy as hell on that bike. Even sexier when you’re beating me.”
I arch a brow. “And you are a dirty cheater.”
He shrugs. “So?”
“So I should kick your ass for that.”
His eyes flash with amusement. “Oh, I’d love for you to try.”
I ignore the heat that curls in my belly when he looks at me like that. “Fun as that sounds, you and I aren’t on speaking terms. Best we part ways.” I jerk my head towards the road. “I’ll wait for you to leave.”
“Figured we could move past all that.” He dismounts and leans over my handlebars. “Take a walk with me, Grace.”
I snort. “I’m not walking down any more dark roads with you.”
He smirks. “Why not? Worked out for you the last time, didn’t it?”
Right. Hand at my throat. Fingers between my legs. Mind-bending, leg-shaking orgasm. It’s hard to forget. But so is the asshole he turned into after. I’m still pissed.
And maybe I need Decker to pay for that. Maybe I need to teach him a lesson.
Matching his smirk, I angle in until our lips nearly touch. “I guess it did.”
We stare at each other, and he does that thing. Looks at me too long, thinking, assessing. Then he smiles, reaches over me, and yanks my keys from the ignition.
“Hey.” I lunge for them, but he dodges me and takes a step back. When he shoves them into his pocket, I’m forced to fully jump off my bike.
“Five minutes,” he says.
“Fine. But just know I’m intimately familiar with how to use a knife. And I’ve taken enough self-defence classes to put you on your ass. Don’t mess with me, Linc.”
Hands raised in surrender, he does a slow scan of my body. “Not sure where you could be hiding a knife in jeans that tight, Gracie. But noted.”