“So you’re the obstinate princess. Got it. Doesn’t make me want to help you any better,” he said, unclipping his helmet from underneath his chin. The veins in his arms stood out, all strength and power.
Been here, done this. It only made you run.
“I could get that changed for you.”
He’s just a biker. Don’t be a sucker for a bad boy, Roxy.
I went back to work on the lug nuts, but as I cranked the wrench, it slipped, smacking my knuckles. “Ouch!” I cradled my injured hand to my chest. I bit back a scream, tasting blood. Pain wasn’t new, but I’d forgotten I had an audience until he exhaled through his nose. I lurched upright too fast. My legs gave out, dumping me into the dirt, slamming my hand against the ground. The pain radiated up my arm.
“If you’d just asked me nicely, I could have been done by now.”
“Who says I’m not already regretting every minute of this?”
“Fuck this shit,” he said, throwing his leg over his bike. He approached me with measured steps, one foot in front of the other. I tried to look away, but my eyes constantly calculated how close he was. My pulse picked up with each measurement.
I didn’t see his club cut until he came closer—the one-percent patch sending a chill down my spine. My stomach knotted. I’d just left a one-percent club, and here was another.Is this going to be a common thing?I knew enough. He wasn’t a man to play with, and I couldn’t run. He’d probably give chase.
He leaned against the trunk of my car, crossing his arms over his chest, hiding the patch from my view. I wasn’t sure if he had done it for me, or if this was his natural stance. I wasn’t about to ask, letting on that I knew what the patch represented. His brows furrowed.
“I don’t get it. What the fuck is going through your head?” His hand came up, waving around, as if I didn’t know we were in the middle of the desert. “Last chance, sweetheart,” he said, jaw tight. He shoved his sunglasses up and rubbed his eyes.
“I’m fine,” I said. “You don’t have to stay.” My voice shook, but I was hoping he hadn’t heard it.
“What are you so afraid of that you won’t ask for help?” I should never have taken my eyes off of him. He moved quicker than I could react, grabbing the wrench from my hand. I quickly stood as he stalked past, yanking open the back passenger door and pointing at the seat. “Sit.”
My brain screamed, but my body froze as I stared at him. It always remembered first. He was very close to the car. I wouldn’t put myself in the position of being cornered. I had visions of being knocked out with the wrench. He’d shove me in the car, and I wouldn’t have anyone who would know to look for me.
He took a few steps away from the door. We shifted around each other until I was closer to the seat, and he crouched down, sighing as he analyzed my blown tire. He finished removing the lug nuts in quick succession, and it was obvious this wasn’t his first time. It would have taken me all night, but he made it look easy.
He stood, dusting his hands on his pants before pulling the tire off of the hub. I leaned forward, my gaze following him as he rolled it towards the trunk. It wasn’t like he could go through my things. The bags were behind me in the back seat, untouchable without a fight. If I could get out of here quicker, I wouldn’tcomplain. He didn’t ask me for help, barely saying anything as he raised the trunk lid. When he reached for the spare, I saw only his arm as he jerked it out. It bounced to the ground before he set the flat down. He was a biker, and they took what they wanted without bothering to ask for permission. I understood, but I was safer if he ignored me.
Grabbing the spare, he rolled it back into position. I was silently counting down until this was over, but he stopped to examine the tire, and I had to crack my knuckles to release the pressure. He trapped the tire between his legs, placing his hands on either side. Every so often, he would flip it, stopping to look at the tread before rotating the tire again.
“You know this tire is bald, right?” He focused on me, waiting for a response.
I shrugged, knowing what he was asking me and not having an answer.
“Sweetheart,” he snapped. “Pay attention. If this doesn’t pop, you’ll probably get to Tombstone, but not much past that.” He swiped at the sweat on his forehead with his sleeve. “Where are you heading?”
“Why?” I said too quickly. I didn’t want him to follow me. I didn’t care if he thought he was making sure I was safe. There was no way I could outrun him in my car. I couldn’t think fast enough to come up with a plan. “So you can stalk me later?” I cringed when I heard what I had said. No stalker was going to tell the truth, and now I’d alerted him to my line of thought. “No, thanks.”
“Yeah, like I don’t have other…better things to be doing,” he deadpanned, placing the first lug nut back on.
I’d just left a man who hadn’t respected me. I didn’t need to encourage another one in the middle of the desert. Especially a man who appeared old enough to be my daddy. I should have kept quiet, but the words were already out of my mouth. “I’m not a damsel in distress.” Saving face was more important in those few seconds.
“I need you to pop the hood.” He clapped his hands, the dirt floating through the air as he ignored what I had said.
“Excuse me? I’m not popping out a boob.”
“Didn’t ask to see a boob. Have you looked at yourself lately?” He raised an eyebrow in my direction, probably regretting stopping. “If you’re going to survive this trip, you need to pay attention. I saw smoke when I first passed you.” He stood, throwing the wrench and the tire into my trunk before shutting it. “If you want to pop something else, that’s on you.”
I didn’t know what he was talking about, but I caught my reflection in the window as I stood, shutting the door. “Dry heat, my ass,” I groaned. My tank top was white, and it stuck to my bra. He didn’t have to ask to see. He could have just looked anytime he wanted. There wasn’t much left to the imagination, and I felt like a fool. “Not interested,” I called out behind me.I’m not popping anything for him.
All I wanted to do was grab a crappy motel room for the night and start looking for a job tomorrow. The car was going to need some maintenance, but I didn’t mind, as long as it got me out of here. Some gut feeling told me to leave. I didn’t have an outstanding track record with one-percenters, and while he hadn’t made a move to hurt me, I didn’t want to take any chances. My gut was screaming at me to drive, and I was a firm believer in its mystical powers. As long as I was far away from here, I’d figure it all out later.
Sitting in the driver’s seat, I started the car, praying the engine would turn over. It sputtered, but wouldn’t start. Leaning against the headrest, I closed my eyes. Saying a quick prayer, I turned the key again, desperate for the engine to turn over. It sputtered and then stopped. “Come on, baby,” I whispered, hoping the sweet-talking would work. The engine puttered and then gave up. My thumb rubbed the vinyl of the steering wheel. “Come on, baby,” I tried again, but I didn’t have any hope.
Third time was the charm. The engine purred as if there had never been an issue. I’d never been lucky, but I couldn’t believe my good fortune. A dry chuckle escaped my lips as I put the car in gear.
