“Are they giving you a hard time?” Bullet asked as he pulled up a chair to their booth to sit beside her.
“Just getting to know your crew,” Morgan said with a small smile.
Viper leaned back, hands behind his head. “We’re a charming bunch. Practically irresistible.”
Bullet snorted. “Yeah, that’s one word for it.” He turned to Morgan, saying in an exaggerated whisper. “They mean well.”
“Protective?” she asked, only half-joking.
“Something like that,” Diesel said, more sincere than she expected.
The weight of that settled softly over the table. Morgan glanced at Bullet, but his face was still hidden behind the mask and sunglasses.
She couldn’t help wondering—why her?
“So,” Hawk said, breaking the moment, “Are we sticking to the usual route?”
The conversation shifted to roads and timing, weather conditions and traffic patterns. Morgan sipped her latte and watched the four men interact—the shorthand of long friendship, the easy ribbing, the absolute trust. It was beautiful to witness.
When they finished their coffee and pastries, they strolled outside and towards their parked bikes, each one unique and different, just like their owners.
They prepared to mount their bikes and Bullet helped Morgan with her helmet, his touch lingering slightly longer than necessary.
“We’re changing up the ride a bit. About thirty minutes to a lookout for a break at Lands End, then maybe another thirty minutes and we’ll stop for lunch. Break up the ride a bit so you aren’t too sore tomorrow. Still want to come?”
“Try and stop me,” she challenged, feeling a confidence she hadn’t experienced in longer than she could remember.
He nodded and turned away to get situated behind his own helmet before mounting his bike to steady it for her to do the same.
As they pulled out of the parking lot, the four bikes in formation, Morgan tightened her hold around Bullet’s waist and surrendered to the experience. The morning sun warmed her shoulders, the wind rushed past her helmet, and ahead stretched the open road and possibility.
For the first time since her parents died, since her career stalled, even before Jason’s betrayal, Morgan felt like she was moving forward instead of simply treading water. And it had all started with a man whose face she still hadn’t seen.
The irony wasn’t lost on her—finding clarity through a relationship built on mystery. But as they accelerated onto the highway, the powerful machine beneath them responding to Bullet’s confident handling, Morgan decided some contradictions were worth embracing.
8
Morgan
Morgan could barely feel her legs as they pulled off to the lookout at Lands End, her body vibrating from the last thirty minutes or so on the motorcycle. She’d never experienced anything like it—the rush of wind, the perfect synchronicity as she leaned with Bullet’s body through each curve, the freedom of the open road stretching before them.
She was confused as they passed the first few bikers on the road who flashed them a low ‘peace’ sign. But after she had asked over the comms if Bullet had known them, he revealed the ‘secret biker lingo’ to acknowledge another biker.
She started reaching out to initiate the acknowledgement anytime she saw fellow bikers on the road. The feeling it created of being seen and understood, something within her that she hadn't felt with anyone in years. Like a shift, transforming her from the inside out into a different, more confident version of herself.
“Wow,” she breathed as she carefully dismounted, legs wobbling slightly. She removed her helmet and did some stretches to loosen her tight leg muscles. As she walked around she undid the french braids that had given her a slight headache with how tight she had originally done them this morning. She shook out her hair, the sea breeze immediately catching the loose strands. “Is it always this incredible?”
Bullet remained on the bike, watching her through his helmet visor before dismounting and turning away to remove his helmet, only for his face to be concealed once again with the fabric and sunglasses.
“The view?” he asked once he was done, gesturing to the spectacular coastline.
“All of it.” She spread her arms wide, encompassing the ocean, the sky, the entire experience. “The freedom, the sensation... I don’t even know how to describe it.”
“You said it, freedom,” he said simply, easily walking towards her as if he hadn’t just been riding a high-powered machine. “It’s the only name I can think of for such a feeling. It’s why we ride.”
The other three riders had already wandered to the cliff’s edge, giving them space—a courtesy Morgan appreciated but found slightly amusing. For men who looked so intimidating in their riding gear, they were surprisingly considerate.
“Come on,” Bullet said, nodding toward the overlook. “The view from the edge is worth seeing.”
