“Postpone?” Knox opens his eyes, staring at the concrete floor in front of the bike. “Yeah. I do. He’s a suit, Rhett. He doesn’t understand the ride. He doesn’t understand that we do this because we have to. If he shuts it down, he thinks he’s saving face. He doesn’t realize he’s killing us.”
“We’ll figure it out,” I say. “If the circuit folds, we find another one. Or you start your own. You have the name. You have the talent.”
Knox looks up at me. “You think?”
“I know,” I say. “You’re the best rider I’ve ever seen. With or without APBRA.”
He nods, but the doubt doesn’t leave his eyes. He climbs off the bike, carefully setting the kickstand. He walks over to a rack of helmets and pulls one down. He tosses it to me.
“What’s this for?”
“Put it on,” he says. He grabs another one for himself. “The mechanic said I could take the demo for a spin if I was serious. Let’s go.”
I catch the helmet. It’s heavy in my hands. “You just said you can’t ride without a chute operator. This is the same thing.”
“No,” Knox says, grinning now. A real grin. “This is different. On a bull, you’re holding on for dear life. On a bike... you’re the one in control.”
He has a point. And the thought of the wind in my face, the engine roaring between my legs, drowning out the noise of the rumors and the scandals and the documents... it sounds like salvation.
I pull the helmet on and buckle the strap.
“Let’s go,” I say.
We walk the bikes out the back door. Knox kicks his engine to life first. It barks, a loud, aggressive sound that echoes off the brick walls of the alley. I follow suit.
The vibration travels up through my spine, settling in my chest. It feels good. It feels real.
Knox looks over at me, his face hidden behind the visor. He gives me a thumbs up.
We hit the road. We don’t go fast. The town speed limit is strictly enforced, and neither of us needs a ticket today. But as we ride out past the city limits, toward the open highway that leads to the mountains, I feel the tension start to bleed out of me.
I wonder what she’ll think when she sees the leases. I wonder if she’ll hate us more, or if she’ll finally understand that Anthony wasn’t just a stubborn old man, but someone who was trying to build something that lasted.
I think about the rumor—that we’re a pack. That we’re together. It’s absurd. But as I ride behind Knox, watching him lean into a curve, I realize that in a way, we are. We aren’tbonded by blood or bite marks. We’re bonded by the land. By the ranch. And now, by the woman who wants to tear it all down.
We ride until the sky begins to darken. We don’t talk. There’s no need to. The roar of the engines is the only conversation we need.
We ride for so long that by the time we return the bikes and head back to the ranch, the sun is setting behind the mountains, the sky a bruise of purple and red.
“Thanks,” Knox says, running a hand through his hair. “I needed that.”
“Me too,” I admit.
“Think she’s looked at the papers yet?” Knox asks, looking toward the main house. The lights are on inside. I can see a shadow moving past the window.
“She’s looked at them,” I say. “And she’s probably plotting our murder right now.”
Knox laughs. “Good. Let her plot. It gives her something to do besides trying to sell the place.”
He heads toward his cabin, but I stand there for a moment longer. I look at the main house. I think about the fight, the blood, the rumors. I think about the way Saramaria looked at me when I handed her the documents.
I’m not sure what happens next. The circuit is in danger. The ranch is in limbo. And we’re right in the middle of it, caught between the past and a future that doesn’t want us.
I tighten the strap of my helmet and walk toward my cabin. Tomorrow is coming. We’ll face it when it gets here.
Boone
I’ve been watching her for three hours.
