There's a softening around his eyes and mouth for a brief second. It's gone before I can truly capture the image in my mind, hold that scrap of concern close to keep me warm for nights to come. It makes a girlish part of me happy that he still cares. But I can't count on love to save me this time around. I need to screw my head on straight and get to the bottom of what's happening.
I take the helmet he offers me, piling my hair on top of my head before fitting it snugly around my ears. My Street 500 isn't the only thing distinctive about me. If I go flying down the highway clutching Kase Cruz's waist with my hair flying behind me like a white flag,someoneis bound to take notice.
It's as natural as breathing to slide in behind him on the bike. I've been riding since I turned twelve–long before I was ever legal–courtesy of my father. But Kase is the only person I'll surrender the lead to. My arms wind around his waist and I pull myself as close as I can until every crease in his leather jacket presses into my skin. I nestle my head into the dip between his shoulder blades. It's not often I let myself feel dainty and feminine. The Kings are a tough crowd, and I have to possess the same mettle as any man to make it. You are either weak or strong. The predator or the prey. And it kills a part of me that I'm running scared.
But it's not only my skin on the line here, so I hike my legs up as Kase takes off, sending us hurtling toward the storm gathering above town. It isn't just icy rain that has me shivering. It's him. It's this. It's the possibility ofus.
I don't ask where we're going. Maybe it's better if I don't know, anyway. I'm the one being tracked after all. So I close my eyes and let the gentle rise and fall of his chest lull me into the only calm I'll find for a long time to come.
5
Kase
My thoughts are like birdshot thrown into a blender. They scatter wildly, bounce around, and hurt like a son of a bitch when they finally stick.
Someone hurt Brooklyn.MyBrooklyn. I have no right to call her that anymore, but I can't shake the caveman urge I have to tear the heads off whoever laid hands on her. For all I know big daddy Gardel has married her off by now, cementing his alliance with a new power by offering his daughter as a bargaining chip. Just the thought of it makes my knuckles go white around the handlebars. I send the bike hurtling even faster down the road in my mindless agitation. Just the thought of another man touching her makes me want to punch things.
But it's been years. What did I expect? For her to come crawling back to me, as untouched as she'd been when we first met? Not fucking likely.
Anger, concern, fear, and pain bounce around the inside of my skull. The dark bruises are my foremost concern. The attacker either plans to hurt or kill her, or is too stupid to know he's risking his meal ticket. I've learned the subtle art of kicking a man into compliance and making sure he gets up the following morning to remember the lesson. Her bruises could be masking serious injury. I need to get her to a hospital.
But I also know that's next to impossible. Hospitals mean questions, cops, and witnesses. None of which we can afford right now. So I'll make do with the next best thing.
It's almost an hour until I'm satisfied enough to stop. We've put a decent stretch of damp pavement between us and South Hollens. It's still too close for my comfort, but maybe I'm biased. Staying within the samestateseems too close at this point. I park my bike beneath the overhang near the small hotel and direct Brooklyn to stay put as she pulls the helmet off.
For a few seconds, I'm pretty sure she's going to tell me to fuck off. Anger pulls her mouth into a thin, pale line.
"For just a minute," I amend, when it looks like she'll deck me. I could probably stop her, but it won't create a stellar impression on the hotel owner if we come in looking like a walking domestic dispute. "I need to call a friend."
"No," she snaps immediately, leaning toward me. Her nails rake the air, trying to seize my phone. I hold it just out of her reach. "You can't! No phone calls!"
"Relax will you? I'm not going to say a thing about you. And I'm not calling Cruz."
Her pale brows knit together and her gaze flits from my mouth and up to my eyes several times, as though she's trying to catch either one in a lie. It takes a minute, but she leans back and rests her weight on the bike again.
"You mean it?"
I snort once in amusement. Even before dad died, Cruz and I hadn't been bosom friends or anything. Too busy competing for girls or pulling stupid shit on our bikes to outdo each other. And after dad passed, everything that he could lob at me, he had. Cruz is never going to be who I go to in times of crisis.
"Trust me. If I called, he'd send me straight to voicemail. Even if I wanted to spill your secret, he's not going to listen."
"Then who are you calling?"
"Just relax. I'll be right back." I scrounge around in my back pocket and toss her my wallet. "Go inside and get a room. There should be enough cash."
I stride out into the rainy lot before she can argue with me, and I catch a grumble of annoyance before she dismounts and heads toward the door. I hide a smile. She's just as stubborn as ever. I'm glad. Part of me was afraid that time had worn her prickly edges down into something soft. Soft women don't make an impression on me.
My phone is pressed to my ear by the time I reach the edge of the lot. I raise a hand to shield it and my eyes, taking stock of what's around us. There are only two other cars in the lot. A rusted out 92 Mercury Sable and a white cargo van that might or might not be used to lure small children with the promise of candy.
Ryker picks up on the third ring, and I'm almost immediately deafened by the high, screeching wail of an infant. I hold the phone away from my ear with a grimace until Ryker can pawn off his kid to Cleo. Poor bastard has a baby and a one year old to deal with. I don't envy him.
"Shh. It's okay. Cleo can you–yes. Thank you. Hello?"
"It's Kase," I say, lest he confuse me for Cruz. It would be fun to fuck with him on a normal day, but I figure I've run out of normal days for a while.
"Kase?" Ryker's voice is guarded. I try not to take offense. He's my brother's best friend, not mine. I really shouldn't give two shits if he likes me, so long as he can help me with Brooklyn.
"Yeah, that's what I said. I need to ask you a question."
