Fifteen minutes later, I spot the place on my right. I lean to peer through the passenger window as I pass. The junkyard sign is still there. There’s a chain-link gate, but it stands propped open.
Going down a way, I make a U-turn and head back. There’s no traffic on the highway, and on impulse, I slow and turn into the drive. If they catch me, I’ll just say I’m turning around.
A large warehouse-style building comes into view. It’s not at all what I expected. To tell the truth, I don’t know whatI expected. I’m not sure it’s the place until I spot the Saint’s Outlaws’ logo painted above the door. I’m surprised when I don’t find a bunch of motorcycles parked out front. There are only two, and one of them is Blue’s. My heart leaps.He’s here.
Do I dare stop?
Maybe this is my chance to talk to him. If there’s only one other guy here, this could be the perfect opportunity.
I roll to a stop, staring at the door.
Be brave, Luisa.
Putting the car in park, I turn it off and climb out.
The steel door opens when I pull on the knob, and it creaks when it swings wide.
It’s dark inside the big open room, and it takes my eyes a moment to adjust. A bar sits off to the right with pool tables on the left. The place appears empty except a guy behind the bar.
“Can I help you, ma’am?” He leans his forearms on the bar top and gives me a grin, his eyes sweeping me head to toe.
I’m wearing a summer dress with my hair pulled up and a pair of gold hoop earrings.
“Is Blue here?” my voice quivers, and the heavy metal door slams behind me, making me jump.
“Blue? Yeah, he’s in the back. Come on.” He pushes off the bar and comes out from behind it. Low music echoes through the place.
I follow him down a long hall and through a door, noticing his vest says prospect on the back of it. The hall opens into a big room with a concrete floor and a bunch of exercise equipment. A skylight in the roof is the only illumination.
Across the room, Blue has his back to us and is hitting a punching bag. He’s also shirtless.
“Hey, Blue,” the prospect yells over the music blasting from a speaker. “You’ve got a visitor.”
Blue pauses and glances over his shoulder to the prospect, then his eyes go past the man to me, and he turns fully, his chest heaving and sweat gleaming on his tattooed skin.
My eyes trail over the ink and all that muscle on display.
“Thanks, prospect. Beat it,” Blue tells him, then stares at me as the man exits the way we came, leaving us alone.
Blue flicks off the music, and suddenly the quiet is deafening. His eyes trail over me, then lock on mine. “What are you doing here, Luisa?”
“I… I don’t know. I was driving past, and then before I knew it, I was turning in the drive. I saw your bike out front.”
“Yeah? So?”
He’s being difficult, and he knows it. “I wanted to see you.”
“You found me. Now what?”
I’m at a loss for words. I’ve texted this man, telling him things about myself no one knows. He’s seen my breasts; he’s had his mouth on them. Why can’t I speak now? I take a step closer and lay a palm on his chest. His heart pounds beneath it, but is it from the punching bag or from my nearness?
His eyes drop to my hand, then lift to mine.
“You look real pretty in that dress, sweetheart. All fresh and sweet, and I’m a sweaty mess.”
“I don’t mind,” I whisper, inching closer. “Kiss me, Blue.”
And then he moves with a suddenness that has me gasping. He takes my face in his hands, then spins us and backs me against the wall, his big body boxing mine in and his face dipping close, his mouth a mere inch from mine.
