Glug. Glug. Glug.
The vile, violent-eyed Diesel seemed to know her need and took pleasure in tormenting her by drinking loudly from a bottle before pouring what was left of the life-sustaining liquid over the top of his head.
She nearly opened her mouth to beg for a sip. But what few synapses she still had that weren’t desiccated to dust reminded her it wasn’t time.
Not yet.
Her hands weren’t free.
She needed her hands free if she had any hope of following through on her plan to take one of these sonsofbitches out.
Dropping her chin back to her chest because she couldn’t stand the prurient gleam in Diesel’s eyes or the way Kurt wagged his tongue at her, she concentrated on her movements. Slowly, slowly, she used the glass shard she’d secreted between her palms to saw at the thick, plastic zip tie binding her wrists.
It was awkward. The edges of the glass were hard to hold onto without slicing her own fingers off. The angle she had to use was far from ideal. And she needed to be ever-so-mindful of keeping her elbows and shoulders from moving too much lest she alert her captors to what she was up to.
She searched for a memory to distract herself from the tediousness of the task. Something absorbing. Something affecting. Something to make her forget where she was and what she was doing and the tearing misery of thirst.
North Avenue Beach, three months ago…
“Let’s walk down to the water,” Hew said after removing his helmet and raking a hand back through his thick, unruly hair.
His accent curled around the words, missing Rs and all, and had her smiling.
She mirrored his movements, shaking her hair free of the helmet and turning her face into the cool breeze wafting in off the lake.
Spring had sprung with a vengeance, thawing the ice flows in the water, turning the city parks emerald green, and reminding her that, despite everything, despite all she’d lost and mourned over the previous cold, bleak months, life did go on.
Snow melted. Flowers bloomed. Hearts and minds and bodies healed.
When Hew had suggested they take advantage of the beautiful weather, she’d jumped at the chance to climb onto the back of Freedom.
She’d spent months staring longingly at the rows of gleaming custom motorcycles. Marveling at the intricacy of their designs and the power of their V-twin motors. Longing for the day she might know what it was to ride one.
Er…ride on the back of one.
She didn’t have a motorcycle license. And the thought of getting one sent her into an anxiety spiral because…seriously? Why did each appendage have a different job?
When she’d expressed an interest in learning to ride, Hew had patiently explained how her right hand was responsible for the throttle and the front brake, her left hand took care of the clutch and sometimes the turn signals, her right foot operated the rear brake while her left foot was in charge of shifting gears.
“Wicked wild, right?” he’d said with a knowing smirk. “Like tryin’ to pat your head, rub your belly, and recite the alphabet backwards. All while doin’ sixty miles per hour. But don’t worry. Practice makes perfect, and muscle memory eventually takes over.”
Yeah. No, thank you, she had decided then and there. I’ll just be a passenger princess.
And honestly, now that she’d done it, she could say with certainty that being a passenger princess was where it was at.
She could enjoy the view. Feel the powerful machine roaring beneath her without worrying about controlling it. And hang on to the big, broad-shouldered man in front of her.
He pulled a blanket from the compartment on the back of the bike. After walking with her down to the beach, he spread it on the sand near where the water lapped lazily at the shore.
They lay on their backs, hands behind their heads, to watch white, fluffy clouds morph into familiar shapes against a postcard-worthy blue sky.
It was the perfect day.
She was free from the danger that had stalked her. Free from the worst of the crushing weight of her grief.
With Hew’s help, her emotional scales were no longer tipped constantly toward despair. She would miss Cooper each and every day, but missing him was no longer all she did. And piece by piece, the walls she’d built around herself after her assault were starting to come down.
She was starting to feel like herself again.
