“You make that easy, hubby. Don’t take all night about joining me,” she says, clutching my shoulders and seamlessly standing on the seat without any further instructions, as if she’s fucking done this a thousand times.
The sirens still blare in the not-so-far distance. The flashing lights are drawing nearer, strobing into the dark, puffy clouds. They don’t know which way we’ve gone, but they’re closing in nevertheless. My teeth gnaw at the fleshy inside of my cheek, heart battering my sternum, breath a painful bubble at the base of my throat.
Crunch. Squeak.
No. Not now.
Her leaping is our only choice. Our only way out.
“You got this, Moonshine,” Liam encourages. “One big jump over the bed wall. Land on your knees.”
Without hesitation, she springs off the seat, soars through the air, and lands on her feet with a tinny thud in the truck bed, gripping on to the cab roof for support.
Always intent on putting her own fucking spin on things.
“Jesus Christ,” I hiss as Gage and Liam both croon celebratorywhoops.
“The Navy’s got nothing on the fucking circus,” Gage exclaims. “Breathe, Tytan. Our girl is safe. It’s time to trash that crotch rocket.”
My jump is a bit more precarious because I have to steady the bike in the process and because I have about sixty seconds before the cops catch up to us. I hop to my feet on the seat, steering like that for a few beats while Liam, Gage, and Rena all dole out encouragement. Or taunts. Depending on your perspective.
Either way, in the span of yet another gifted heartbeat, with the monotonous drone of our humming engines as my soundtrack, I bound from the bike to the truck bed, landing on my knees with a thud while the motorcycle spins out into a crashing burn.
Sparks and roars and shrilling clanks.
“Not bad, old man,” Rena quips as we watch the bike shatter and bounce.
“You two stay the fuck down,” Liam orders. “They’re headed this way, so they’ll be looking for a transfer vehicle soon enough.”
We both lie flat, and I rip off Rena’s helmet and ski mask, then my own before dragging her into my arms and breathing in her scent of deliverance—blueberry fields and butterscotch. Life renewed and dreams realized.
Her just-do-it approach to living is certainly an asset, but I wouldn’t be surprised if it sent me into cardiac arrest at some point. Although, no matter how unhinged our moments, I’m more alive in her presence than I’ve ever been.
She lifts her chin to me, beaming as if she’s privy to my thoughts. “You feel fucking high, don’t you? Imagine if we had risked it all and taken an Uber.”
A hushed laugh spills out of me, and I press my lips to hers, kissing her with abandon as the pursuit carries on around us and wondering how she does it. How does she bleed joy into even the most distressing circumstances? Cloak affliction in hope?
Rena is the essence of the moon—seizing the light and sharing it with the dark.
But as I release her lips and she nestles against my chest, her defenses wither. She trembles, finally coming down after all her nonchalant daredevil feats. And here, in the sounds of our silent cocoon,I hear that she’s hiding something. That she’s afraid. That, as perilous as this was, what lies ahead will most certainly be more treacherous.
It has me wondering about something far less uplifting than how my girl harnesses glee within tribulation. Now that I found my reason for living, how the fuck do I keep us alive?
Crunch. Squeak. Blood.
TY
We’re back at the house. I ushered a fragile shell of my girl inside, drew her a hot bath, set a few things up, and rushed outside to talk briefly with the guys. All three of us stripped off our phones and earpieces—anything that could be bugged.
“Something’s not fucking right,” I hiss, and Gage barks a humorless laugh.
“No fuck. We’re up to our eyeballs in some shit we can’t see,” he whisper-growls. “That felt like a goddamn setup.”
“Maybe,” I concede, considering all the twisted events of the evening. “She did get spotted by that lady, which could have set everything in motion early. But what concerns me more is that she looked rocked when I saw her on the roof before that.”
Liam whips out his Zippo, clanking it open and closed in a far quicker rhythm than usual. “Did you ask what rattled her?”
“Yeah,” I huff. “I told her over and over she could tell meanything, but she maintained she was just startled, afraid she had to shoot someone.”
