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He also hands her a small bag.

“Clothes and toiletries,” he explains. “We keep extras for women who come through the shelter.”

Madison peers inside.

“You're telling me I get clean underwear out of this disaster?”

Razor grins.

“Try not to sound too grateful.”

“I'm overwhelmed.”

Outside, six motorcycles wait near a black SUV.

Vex sits astride his bike. Striker stands beside Grim, and the others are checking their equipment.

Madison stops.

“Is this an escort or a parade?”

“Depends how much you complain,” I tell her.

“Then definitely a parade.”

Vex laughs.

“She's going to be fun.”

“Get on your bike,” I tell him.

“See? Fun.”

Grim approaches us.

“We're taking a longer route. Stay in the vehicle and let us handle anything that comes up.”

Madison looks him in the eye.

“Expecting trouble?”

“Taking precautions.”

She doesn't look entirely reassured, but she climbs into the SUV beside me.

The bikes pull out around us.

Grim leads.

Striker rides ahead on the other side of the lane.

Two brothers hold the rear, while Vex hangs farther back, watching the traffic.

We've ridden together often enough that nobody needs a speech.

Madison watches the mirrors.

“Do they always ride like this?”