“Nothing's going to happen to me,” I retort, anger simmering inside me.
“You’re a pretty dumb shit if you believe it isn’t a possibility.”
I press my lips together in frustration, not wanting to give him the point but knowing he’s correct. “Well, if that happened, then you’ve got her.”
“And what if I don’t?”
Panic boils inside me at the thought. I don’t say anything, so he adds, “Would you want her just stranded there? Stranded with no way to escape?”
I curse under my breath, glancing over at her now astride the bike as I mutter, “Did you have to get her one so big?”
Cornelius laughs. “Well, typically we’d start somebody out a lot smaller, but time is of the essence here. She’s gotta be able to keep up.”
“What if she hurts herself?”
“Oh, good lord, Zion. Do you hear yourself?”
I blow out a breath, knowing I’m pissing up the wrong tree here with my argument. And Vivian is obviously as happy as a pig in shit with her new ride. Throwing Cornelius a dirty look, I walk over and stop beside Vivian. She lifts her head, looking toward me, but all I can see is my reflection in her visor.
And I know she’s grinning. I remember what it feels like to be sitting on your first motorcycle, knowing the power and exhilaration that’s there. Also, the potential for danger that makes your heart pound in your chest.
But this is the first time I’ve ever viewed a motorcycle with fear. Fear for her.
I reach for the straps on her helmet that are still hanging. Making quick work of the buckles, I secure it and then grip the bottom front of her helmet firmly, yanking her toward me so my face is just shy of pressing into the visor. I stare through the glass, knowing she can see me clearly, knowing that everythingI have to say will be reflected in my eyes. Then her warm palm presses into my side beneath my shirt, quieting that inferno if only for a moment.
I step back, tapping her helmet twice, then turn and walk over to my own bike, readying myself as Cornelius does the same.
I watch her, figuring if she can’t even start the goddamn thing, then that might change someone's mind. But no, smoothly, she rights the bike beneath her, disengaging the stand, and next thing I know, it purrs to life.
I curse to myself, but realizing there's no point in wasting any more time arguing, I do the same, and then nod to Cornelius, who rides out with Vivian right behind him. I fall in behind her, making sure the doors are closing behind us before focusing on how she’s handling the bike. I edge a little closer to her, noticing some writing on the back of her helmet, so I come up slightly beside her and laugh as I realize what’s written there, in a delicate gold script.
Hurricane.
TWENTY-FOUR
A DEMON’S LAIR
Vivian
To say I was surprised to find my very own bike waiting for me would be an understatement. It never occurred to me that I might need my own ride, and from Zion’s reaction, I’m sure it hadn’t crossed his mind either.
Overhearing most of his discussion with Cornelius, I had to admit that some good points were made. I understand Zion being fearful that something might happen, but assuming I have a lick of sense in dangerous situations, we’re better off being solo. Not that I don’t trust him to do his very best to get us out of danger safely, but maneuvering at high rates of speed with a passenger only increases the odds of serious injury or death.
Admittedly, I’m accustomed to a smaller bike, and it doesn’t take me long to figure out this bike likely isn't street legal. Sure, it appears so at a glance, but all it would take is a closer look from a discerning eye to establish that it is, in large part, entirely illegal. Which basically means, don’t get caught.
Under different circumstances, I would ease myself into it, but given there’s no time for ease, I’m incredibly grateful for Cornelius’s foresight in getting me appropriate safety gear.Because the reality of it is, it’s highly likely I’m going to end up eating asphalt at some point.
Cornelius doesn’t even pretend to take it easy on me. I’m sure the only reason he keeps it reasonable as we leave the stables and head down the driveway is because he’s worried about the bike. Once he hits the pavement, he takes off like lightning, and I follow in kind, trusting that he won’t go in too hot.
Relief overwhelms me when I manage to follow him smoothly, and then complete euphoria as the distinctive whine of the engine kicks in as my velocity increases. With the sudden speed increase, the drag of the wind around my helmet becomes a nuisance. I bend my elbows, dropping my head and ducking down behind the minuscule wind screen as we all bullet down the highway.
I don’t know the area overly well, but in the few times I’ve frequented this stretch of highway with Zion, I know there’s a sharp turn coming up shortly. My heart rate accelerates exponentially, and I force myself to relax my jaw, my neck, and my shoulders. My hands grip the handles firmly as I adjust my seat, preparing for the turn.
As expected, Cornelius doesn’t slow, and if nothing else, I can be thankful for the pitch-black not showing any incoming headlights. Zion is right behind me. I know if I slow down, if I decide to take it easy, he’ll be right there with me, but the stubborn part of me knows if I give in so easily, I’ll just continue to play it safe and most likely end up getting myself killed.
Because at the end of the day, this is a test. Every moment since walking into that bar and pulling that gun on Zion has been a test. I didn’t know it then, but I sure as shit know it now.
I enter that corner on a high, adrenaline kicking in as I ease off, allowing myself to lean and flow through the apex, twisting the accelerator as we come out of it like a shot. Cornelius glances briefly over his shoulder, and I just know he’s laughing. I can’thelp the grin, a whoop of excitement falling from my lips as I clear that first level of comfort with the ride.
