“Oh, um, yeah. I can take you where you need to go. Drop you off.” He shrugged and glanced at the ground before he began picking up his tools. There weren’t many lying around, and he stacked them back into a small toolbox. The lid clanged loudly when he flipped it shut.
“I mean, I have plans with ya that aren’t floating round some hoity-toity shops and then eating food neither of us likes. So, not a date, really.”
His shoulders hunched, and then he turned a bit and looked up at me. The way his eyes warmed again had me wanting to drag him into my arms.
“Ya there,” I said to the guard, holding out my hand to get Hunter onto his feet. This time he let me haul him upright without acting like I was trying to accost him. “Take all this shite back to the Virtue.”
Hunter made eyes at me like he was telling me I shouldn’t’ve done that, but like I gave a fuck what that careless arsehole thought. I was ready to take Hunter out and about, and the guard was lucky I didn’t have Corbin shoot him on the spot.
“You want to… okay. We’re going for a ride.” Hunter’s smile blazed to life. He handed me a full helmet from where it rested on his seat, and there was another smaller one that didn’t cover as much. I snagged the wee one and gave him mine. He didn’t argue, though he gave me a reproachful look I could feel all the way to my bones. I was beginning to realize he did talk quite a lot, but it was mostly with his eyes and body and I needed to pay keen attention.
“Where are we going?”
Barely containing my self-congratulations, I flashed him a wink. “Willetts Point. It’s in Queens.”
He shrugged, apparently without recognition, and my excitement ratcheted up another notch. “You know the way?”
“Yes.”
He approached his bike, and for a second it was painfully clear he wasn’t Forrest. He swung his leg over the seat and kicked up the stand. He stood there, legs strong and steady, and seemed to be bonding with the metal underneath him. He caressed his fingers over the fuel tank and smiled at it. My cock took the chance to remind me I wanted his magic touch on me, and then he turned and laid a hand on the seat behind him. I jammed the helmet on my head and tried to remind myself I wasn’t the teenager Corbin had accused me of being, but my stomach was hot and tingling. I climbed on behind him, and though I wanted to slide forward and pump my hips against his delightful arse, I was good. I sat back and behaved myself.
“Don’t ride with anyone often,” he said, so quietly I barely heard him. “I’ll be taking my time.”
“Ya don’t?” I rested my hands on his hips and popped my feet up onto the metal pegs that stuck out on each side of the bike. Releasing this much control to him was unusual and exciting for me, and I let out a long breath. Normally I kept myself in charge of every interaction I could, it was just the way it had to be in my business, but this was nice. He smiled back at me and then pulled his helmet on. With one pat of his hand on mine, he started the bike.
“You’re gonna go Northern Boulevard when we’re closer to Queens, but I’ll tell ya where to go,” I said over the rumble of the engine. He nodded and didn’t lower the visor on his helmet as he backed out of the spot and started from the parking garage. For an out-of-towner, he was surprisingly not bad in the midafternoon traffic. The humid air sat heavy on us and I was soon speckled with sweat in spite of the breeze. We did as much stopping as starting; it wasn’t rush hour yet, but the street was packed.
Every time we came to a standstill at a light, I leaned forward to tell him where we wanted to go next, till we were traveling at a decent rate on Northern Boulevard. Not much scared me, but he didn’t seem moved by the tractor trailers that blew past us at a fast clip and stole my breath.
“That exit!” I said as Flushing Bay came up glittering on our left. In the distance, thunderheads loomed out over the water, but I tried not to worry about it. If we got caught in the rain, I’d have someone take us—take him—back to the Virtue safely.
Once we left the freeway it was much easier to guide him along smaller streets until we came upon the Flushing Industrial Park. Ahead of us, another motorcycle went through an open gate. He looked over his shoulder at me as we entered. The intimidating metal barrier that normally kept the park closed off had been entirely removed and leaned against the tall gray cement wall that went on far enough either side of the narrow street that it wasn’t easy to see where—or if—it ended, though I knew it must. The bay wasn’t far from us.
“Keep going!” I called above the road noise.
He nodded and drove on. After that, I didn’t really need to tell him directions anymore because a massive gathering came into view, and all the people walking and talking in clumps everywhere seemed out of place surrounded by empty parking lots and shuttered, dark manufacturing buildings and warehouses. Some cars ahead of us turned in to park in a lot near an old food company that hadn’t been in use for years and years, by the state of disrepair on the building. More people were walking away from the car park, down a small slope of grass nearby.
Hunter took us past several rows of cars over near a long line of motorcycles and stopped his at the very end. He held the bike steady while I climbed off, and then he swung his leg free on the left side. He put down his kickstand and stood there for a second staring around. I unhooked my helmet, and he caught my eye as he did the same. I stood by, trying to think of something to say as he settled the helmets on the seat, apparently not worried anyone would take them. Some people hanging out near their bikes, a group of laughing men and women, were dressed a lot like we were—well, he was—and he seemed happy with that. No one near the bikes had on fancy duds, though farther out by the cars I saw one man in a suit. Hunter’s shoulders eased down, and he gave me a relaxed smile.
“Okay”—he glanced around—“I’ll play. What is this?” His eyes flashed with curiosity.
“It’s an abandoned manufacturing park.”
He shook his head, and I got the impression that if he was more comfortable, I might have been in for a snarky response, but all I got was a stare.
“I’ll show ya why we’re here.” I stepped around the bike and stopped at his side, reaching out to caress the back of his hand with my fingers. His eyelids fluttered shut, and then he was giving me that intrigued stare again.
“Come on, now. You’ll like this.”
He didn’t gift me a response, but walked with me down the hill next to the car park, following the same path as everyone else, and as soon as we were far enough down the knoll, he could see the sparkling row of cars in what looked to have been a cleared field, where perhaps another large warehouse had stood at one time. Strong wind from the bayside puffed up dervishes on the dusty ground between mounds of bricks and debris, barrels, and other manufacturing castoffs, with the exception of where the wide loop of the racetrack had been smoothed and decluttered.
“Are those souped-up race cars?” He stopped for a second and then turned to grin at me, bumping our shoulders together. I wasn’t entirely sure, but I thought that was the first time he’d taken the initiative to touch me today, and it had my heart pattering harder.
“Will we go look before the race?”
He nodded fast, and I let out a relieved chuckle as we made our way along a mound of red dirt and then hopped into the scooped-out bowl of land that made up the track. Excitement was in the air and everyone seemed to be moving fast, laughing too loud, shouting instead of chatting. We stood close enough together that his shoulder bumped mine again, and our fingers brushed and shot sparks into my gut, all while we walked down the line of cars.
The drivers stood outside, detailing their mods to the folks who stopped to ask, and Hunter’s smile grew until it stuck and then stayed on his face. I couldn’t have told anyone who asked a damned thing about any of the cars, but he checked over each one intently and stopped to listen to the drivers speaking with other people, though he didn’t ask any questions of his own. I entertained myself by caressing my fingers to his wrist or palm every now and then, and breathed through the thrill of heat that simmered in me, especially when his fingers twitched and lightly touched mine back.
