He nodded. “I’ll cover you.”
I pulled the heavy bike up from the stand, starting it up, feeling it growl in greeting underneath me. Then, I looked back at where she stood waiting. Unsure.
“Come on, Soph. We need to go.”
I saw the motion of her chest as she exhaled. But she didn’t move. Just stood and stared, clutching the helmet in her hands.
I kicked out the stand and let it settle to the side again, climbing off and leaving it. I could almost hear the impatience in the engine as I stepped towards my doctor. Pressing both handseither side of her face, I tipped her head up, reaching for her eyes, for the multiple shades of grey I knew I’d see in there.
“I know this is a lot right now.” Sophie looked at me. Really looked at me. Her eyes gripping mine. Not pleading. Not screaming. But searching for reassurance. For help. “You know how to ride pillion, Soph. Just this time you have a helmet. And that bike, it won’t let you down. Get on. Wrap your arms round me. Close your eyes if you need to. But I need you to get on the bike.”
I took half a step back, watching her carefully. Her top teeth pulled over her bottom lip, not even for a second, but I saw it. Then she took a breath and pushed the helmet onto her head and stepped towards me.
Chapter Twenty Three
I tried to stop my hands trembling as I clutched his sides. Wind rushed at me. The bike growled underneath me, angry rage vibrating up my legs. This wasn’t like the little bike he’d had those years ago. It didn’t screech like a banshee. This one gave orders. And right now, those orders were to hold on tight as we escaped into the night.
Ryan barely paused. Slipping between lanes, not waiting for anyone to move out the way. He just moved round them. Thebike glided beneath us, smooth and effortless. In control. Of us and the road.
I tucked my head behind Ry, his massive bulk creating a windshield. My fingers were numb from the rushing cold. That same cold infiltrating the cotton of my clothes and creeping under the wool of my coat. I didn’t know what speed we were doing, but I knew it was over the limit.
The man behind me stayed close. At times I could see him move into my peripheral vision, and Ryan would acknowledge him in wordless conversation. He did it again as we left the Tyne Bridge, but this time he came up on our right and sat beside us. Ryan’s head moved between watching the road and talking to the man on the big, black, and equally as loud bike next to us. And then I felt the power feed into the bike, and I squeezed my arms around Ryan harder.
The man on the other bike pulled ahead, space forming between us and him until he was a speck in the distance and the only thing I could hear was the deep roar of Ry’s bike in my ears.
We moved from the faster road, Ryan making a series of turns down side streets until I’d completely lost my bearings. At one point I thought we’d doubled back on ourselves, but then it had happened again, and I didn’t know whether I was up or down. Just as I was starting to worry, the bike moved to the right of the road, and I caught a glimpse of the street we turned into with a motorbike at the very end.
Ryan slowed now, but the engine still growled. I watched each window we passed. Barely a curtain twitched or shadow flinched. A street used to motorbikes. He stopped almost at the end of the row of terraced cottages.
I slid off the back carefully, my legs unsteady for a second as the world caught up with me. The air felt different here. Quieter, but not peaceful. Like it held its breath rather than relaxed. The houses were close, all joined to one another. Old Tyneside cottages spreading back into tiny yards. Some had been extended into the loft space, windows poking out of roofs, felt weatherproofing the wooden frames that now jutted out. The street was tired. Paint peeling from window frames, brickwork worn soft with time and weather. No neat lines. No polished edges. Just life, lived in and left to show it.
I glanced up the street, then down. No one outside. No voices. No movement. But it didn’t feel empty. It felt watched. Not in a way that made my skin crawl. Not like earlier. I wrapped my arms around myself, more because of cold than fear, my eyes dragging over the details I didn’t recognise but somehow understood. This wasn’t Ponteland. There were no wide drives or quiet cul-de-sacs here. No space between people. Everything was closer. Tighter. Real.
My gaze flicked back to Ryan as he swung off the bike, completely at ease, like he belonged to every inch of this place. Like it had shaped him. And maybe that was what I felt. Not danger. Not really. Just the weight of where he’d come from.
“Everywhere checked out,” the man on the big shiny Harley Davidson spoke.
I recognised the bike. Or at least the seat. The design was different. Slightly feminine. Roses and barbed wire intertwined.
“We weren’t followed. Doubled back a few times to check,” Ryan replied.
“You going to be good here?”
“Aye. Safe as anywhere else. Need to get her in off the street now though.”
The other man nodded. “Nice to meet you, Sophie.” He swung his leg back over his bike.
“Magnet,” Ryan called just as the man’s hand poised over the key in his bike. “Ride safe, brother.”
“Always do, Reap. Speak later.”
He nodded again in my direction and then turned his hand, and the Harley gurgled to life, clearing its throat before settling into that rhythmical deep purr.
“Just go in,” Ryan pushed the front door open. “I’ll be right there. I’ll just put the bike round the back.”
The door closed behind me, shutting the night out but not the deep rumble of the motorbike that started up outside. For a moment I stood still, my mind swimming. Emotions threatening to overwhelm me, a familiar pressure building in my chest. Deep. Strong. The rumble outside faded, moved. And now everything slowed. Apart from my heart. I could feel it pounding in my chest. In my ears. In the ends of my fingers. And suddenly all I could hear was my own heartbeat. But it was fading. Or maybe that was the light.
“Fuck! Sophie!”
