"You don't grow up with Matthew and not try to kick his ass at dirt biking," I responded.
"Hold up," Lysa said. "There's no way your top is gonna stay up in the wind. You can borrow some clothes."
That momentarily stopped everything as all eyes traveled down to my boobs. I hiked a brow and then shoved my hands up under them, plumping them up. "Got them memorized yet?" I snarked, before climbing off the bike and following Lysa through the bar to the kitchen. She pulled open a locker and handed me a black outfit with pants, socks, and riding boots, then tossed me the leather jacket that had been stuffed in at the bottom.
I changed in the bathroom, and came out feeling much better in a leather tank top and stretchy black pants than I did in that other get-up. I pulled on the cropped leather jacket last and checked myself out in the mirror. Lysa had good taste. The shirt had v cut that wasn't so low that I was afraid of popping out of it and a high, cinched waist. It was classy badass.
I chuckled at my own assessment as I headed back outside. The van we'd arrived in was driving up a ramp into the back of the semi. It parked inside and then Gray hopped down, tossing the keys at the semi driver as he headed down the ramp.
"Compact." I knew Gray's one-word order doomed our van. It would be scrunched into a metal pancake by noon. The driver nodded and closed up the back of his trailer as I joined the group.
Andros and Evan already straddled their bikes, but Malcolm was waiting near mine with a helmet for me. He gently pulled my hair back and helped me slide it on before striding over to his own.
Gray and I mounted up, then I flicked my visor open and looked over at Cotton and Lysa. "Thank you. I owe you one."
Cotton shook his head but Lysa put her hand on his arm to stop him. "I'll take you up on that someday," she said with a wink. "Might need some tips on how to get my own Sweet Butts."
Z climbed on behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist as he muttered, "We aren't damn Sweet Butts."
Lysa held up a hand to her ear and leaned forward. "What's that? Sorry, couldn't hear you from way back there where you're riding bitch."
Z growled and gripped me harder. Before he could retort, Gray and the guys started their engines and the growl of motors cut off anything he might have said.
I peeled out of the parking lot and joined the guys on the highway. We spaced out and rode single file, following Gray to our next, unknown location as the sun started to tiptoe into the sky.
Just as my thoughts were about to bombard me with worries, a voice sounded in my ear. I swerved and nearly crashed the damn bike.
"Fuck! Don't do that!" I cursed at Z.
Apparently, there was a mic in my helmet that no one had bothered to tell me about and Z had figured out how to work it.
"Shit. Fine. I won't compliment the way your ass feels as it vibrates against me."
Bastard. Of course, he had to go and make me laugh. I tried to swallow my amusement and project annoyance. "You nearly killed us."
"You're the one driving, so I think you'd technically be the killer."
"But if the passenger distracts the driver--"
Z pressed up against my back. I could feel he was hard. "Distract? How could I possibly distract you?"
I didn't respond, just tried to focus on the road as Z's thighs heated my hips and his fingertips found a tiny gap between my shirt and pants and caressed my skin.
I tried to remind myself of all the rules Matthew had 'taught' me about riding motorcycles. Like carefully twisting the throttle. The first time he'd let me drive, I'd twisted it so hard we'd gone into a spinning wheelie, my brother screaming in my ear behind me. The memory brought a smile to my face. And this time, it wasn't the half-sad, half-haunted combination I'd been nursing for years. My smile was as light and bright as the sunrays peeking over the treetops. Playful and hopeful.
“Maybe if I can give her Matthew, Mom won’t mind so much about Claude,” I muttered under my breath. That was my hope, at least.
I blinked hard when a sunray suddenly shot through a gap in the trees, blinding me. I nearly missed our exit. I swerved—too much—we tipped sideways.
Fuck!
My stomach tried to bail out through my nose and I floored the gas and jerked the bike—a last ditch effort to avoid crashing.
As my life flashed before my eyes, I thought I saw Claude appear in the brush that lined the road. But as I straightened the bike back out, Z shifting his weight to help me, no one was there. I even checked the rear-view mirror twice before scolding myself.
My overexcited, exhausted brain was just fried, crossing wires and making me panic.
I blew out a breath as I pulled up to a stop sign and apologized to Z.
"No one I'd rather wipe out with," he replied.
I took a longer stop than necessary there, shaking the adrenaline out of my hands before I sped back up and followed the guys—who’d been half a mile ahead of us—down several country roads.
The rest of our ride went off without a hitch. Gray led us to an abandoned farmhouse, a white building with peeling paint, some cracked windows, and hanging shutters—it looked like it had been caught up in a twister, fallen back out of Oz, and been dumped here while Dorothy's family moved on to bigger and better things.
This was where the billionaire bad boy had decided to stash us? Here? Not some yacht in international waters where Pinnacle laws wouldn't apply?
He and I had a thing or two to discuss regarding strategy.
I killed the bike and let Z slide off first. The rest of the guys stopped around us and I yanked off my helmet before dismounting.
But before I could lay into Gray, Malcolm marched over and laid a big one on me. His kiss was hard and fast and furious. His tongue plunged into my mouth and gave me no quarter. He poured all his panic, fear, and relief into that kiss—not just for the bike ride, but for the entire fucking night.
He gave me an epic reunion after a close call kiss, a potent kiss full of panic and promise so jumbled together that they couldn't ever be untangled.
I didn't even notice when the others tromped inside.
Malcolm only pulled away when he was completely breathless. His hand traced my cheek. "You're never driving a motorcycle again."
"You can't tell me what to--"
He swatted my ass and grabbed my hand, ignoring me when I launched completely logical protests his way. He nodded at Z but then turned and quickly strode through the living room, hardly giving me a second to gawk at the place, which seemed frozen in time. The gold-painted frames surrounding little paintings, the many vases and cluttered surfaces covered with Hummel figurines and other knick-knacks, the flower-print couch and loveseat--it all flashed by as he led me to a wooden staircase.
The stairs creaked under my shoes as we walked.
"Where are we going?" I asked breathlessly.
"Bath," was his one-word answer.
I nearly melted at that. Yes. That was exactly what I needed right now. I was three layers of disgusting. I followed him down the hallway as he checked each door, revealing bedroom after bedroom, until we finally discovered a bathroom that had mint green tiles leftover from the sixties.
Malcolm pulled me inside and locked the door behind us before turning to the freestanding tub and turning the tap on. Once the water was steaming, he let the bath fill with hot water while he watched in silence.