“Didn’t hear you come in,” I say instead.
He nods casually. “Parked down the street. Didn’t want to spook you.”
I narrow my eyes. “You think you scare me?”
He huffs a laugh and lifts his glass to his lips. “No, baby. I know I don’t.”
He continues to watch me with that easy calm, looking like he could wait all day if I needed him to. But I sense the hunger underneath it… The kind of energy that says the second I give him permission, he’ll tear right through me.
And I’m surprised I want him to.
Still, I lift my glass and drink, letting the moment hang.
And all he does is smile.
But the longer we stand here in silence, each of us waiting for the other to move, the more something stirs inside me. Something restless and electric, brushing against the edges of my nerves like static looking for somewhere to land.
And before I even realize what I’m doing, the words are coming out of my mouth. “What are you doing here?”
His smile grows darker, and something absolutely feral enters his gaze. He lifts his glass to his lips, draining the last of it in one slow swallow, his cut parting just enough to show a flash of the gun strapped to his side. The low hum under my skin grows louder, demanding something from me and pressing harder with every second I keep still.
“I told you we’re going to spend more time together,” he says, stepping forward as he sets the empty glass on the coffee table. “And I need to open you up.”
My eyes stay locked on his, the sunlight catching in them and revealing flecks of gold in all that dark. He has the kind of gaze that shouldn’t feel warm, but somehow… it does.
Like danger waiting for permission.
“You need to step out of that cage you keep building for yourself,” he says, his hand lifting to run up my chest, his fingers dragging slowly over the fabric of my T-shirt. “And find out what it’s like to actually live.”
My eyes drop to the ink on his neck, taking in the trees and wildflowers tangled down one side, and a dagger and a crow inked onto the other.
Life and death.
Roots and ruin.
His hand slides up my chest until his fingers curl around my throat, and I involuntarily pull in a sharp breath. My heart thumps, and the static that’s been building finally lands, crackling over my skin.
“I’m working tonight,” he says, leaning in close enough so I can smell the whiskey on his breath. “And you’re coming with me.”
TWELVE
My grip tightensaround Alder’s waist as he leans into a curve on the winding, tree-lined road, and the hum of his Harley deepens into a growl beneath us. We're at least two hours outside of Fredericton now, swallowed by thick forest in every direction—just trees, shadows, and the stretch of pavement ahead. I have no idea where we are or where we’re going.
The single headlight cuts through the darkness ahead, illuminating flashes of bark and brush before they vanish again into black. It must be getting close to midnight, and I should probably be worried. I should be asking questions, like where’s taking me, and why. But I just hold on tighter as he leans into the next turn, the force of it tilting my body with his as the rumble of the engine vibrates up through my thighs and into my chest like a second heartbeat.
He rides exactly how I thought he would. Reckless and unhinged… and somehow completely in control. Like he owns the road and everything it leads to. And it only makes me want more.
We round a corner, and just up ahead, an RCMP cruiser is parked on the shoulder. My body stiffens behind Alder as some of that worry starts creeping in. While Alder didn’t say what hiswork is tonight, I can take an educated guess and assume it’s not legal.
Alder slows as we approach the car, and eases to a stop beside the rolled-down window where a Mountie sits in the driver’s seat.
“’Bout time,” the Mountie says lazily.
“Fuck off, Donnie,” Alder replies, barely raising his voice over the rumbling of the bike. “We good?”
The Mountie—Donnie—nods and gestures up the dark stretch of road ahead. “Henry’s on patrol near Plaster Rock, covering the east entrance as planned. I’ve got units sweeping the 130 and 105 near the border, where the sergeant assumes something’s going down. Guess that anonymous tip paid off.” He pauses and shakes his head. “He’s going to be insufferable when he comes up empty again.” Then his eyes flick towards me, sitting behind Alder. “Giving buyers rides now?”
Alder revs his engine sharply. “He’s along for a different kind of ride later.”
