“Shit!” I yelled, flooring the gas pedal to pull ahead of the minivan. From my peripheral vision I saw the guy on the bike veer to the shoulder, and I looked in the rearview mirror, watching him make it back on the road. My heart was thumping wildly in my chest. I had nearly hit him.
I should pull over and make sure he’s okay, I thought. Then, yeah, that’s what I need to do. Pull over and make sure some biker is okay. That’s how you get killed. That thought was ironic, given what had just happened with Billy. Besides, I hadn’t actually hit the biker. But it was a reminder that I needed to get my head screwed on straight. Maybe I shouldn’t be driving home by myself after all.
My heart pounded in my chest. I breathed in deeply, big calming breaths, trying to get my heart rate to return to normal. It was just a scare, that’s all.
It took a half hour for my heart rate to come back down and for me to feel less on edge. I wasn’t usually the panicky type, but today was just not my day. I was exhausted already. I should look at finding a nice hotel and spend the night relaxing in a bubble bath with a glass of wine. Maybe at the bed and breakfast up the road, the place I'd stayed before. That might be exactly what the doctor ordered.
I drove on until I saw the red light on the dashboard. How had I not noticed the low gas light before? Five miles left until empty. Are you fucking kidding me? Now this day could not get any worse. There were no billboards, and I tried to remember if there were any towns along here, anything that might have a gas station. Was there a gas station before the hotel? I fumbled for my cell phone on the center console, sliding my thumb across the screen. No signal. Of course I had no signal.
So, I was going to be stranded on the side of the road. Then my father would send one of his men up to school to find me gone. Maybe next my mother’s killer would come along and get rid of me too. After all that had happened with Billy last night- now this? My father would flip out. He’d insist that I have an escort everywhere, and who could blame him? The idea of being under house arrest on top of everything else struck me as hysterical. I felt a giggle build up in my chest, and I started to laugh, first just a little and then uncontrollably.
When the car actually sputtered, jerking as it came to a stop, I was resigned to my fate. Apparently I was just a magnet for shit right now. Checking my phone for a signal again, I confirmed I was in a dead zone. Perfect. What the fuck am I going to do now? I tried to calm myself, think through the options. Okay. I could hike to a gas station or sit here and wait for a stranger to help me. Both seemed like choices that involved getting picked up by an axe-murdering serial killer, so they were equally stellar.
I leaned forward, resting my head against the steering wheel, and breathed out. Calm. I breathed in. Relax. I practiced the deep breathing I had learned in yoga. Yoga didn’t exactly prepare me for this. I breathed in and my breath turned into sobs. Deep, heaving, body-racking sobs. Once I started crying, I couldn’t stop, tears streaming down my face. I suddenly felt like I was gasping for air, choking. In my mind's eye, Billy's face flashed in front of mine, inches away, and I felt his hands, a vise grip around my neck, squeezing the life from me.
I can’t breathe. I can’t breathe.
Pulling at the door handle, I stumbled out of the car, falling to my knees in the dirt and overgrown grass on the side of the road. I heard an engine, and knew I should be out there flagging down the vehicle, but I felt bile in the back of my throat, and then the contents of my stomach came up, burning. Even after I’d vomited, I knelt there dry-heaving and sobbing.
When I finally stopped, I wiped my mouth with my hand. My nose dripped, and I brushed it against the back of my hand, sniffling. Gross. The last time I’d cried was at my mother’s funeral. I felt like I’d just spilled out years worth of tears. It was like I’d expelled everything I’d been building up since I was fourteen.
I spit on the ground. My mouth tastes like crap. I need a piece of gum, I thought. Standing, I brushed the dirt from my jeans and straightened the scarf I’d tied around my neck earlier.
Fuck my life.
There he was, the biker I’d nearly side-swiped before, standing by my car, helmet in his hand. Motorcycles weren’t exactly quiet. How had I not heard him pull up? How could I have been that absorbed in my own shit that I hadn’t noticed?
Oh, crap. That meant he had to have seen me crying and throwing up. I felt heat rise to my face as I flushed with embarrassment. That was just great. My face was scarlet, I was sure. Then I looked at him. Really looked at him. Holy shit, he is hot. That made this doubly embarrassing.
Blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail, blue eyes, chiseled jawline. He wasn't hot the way Billy had been attractive, compensating for some inner insecurity with all his pricey things. This guy was different. Absolutely nothing about him said money. But everything about him screamed raw masculinity. I had a brief fantasy of what he would look like naked, wondered whether the tattoos that snaked up his forearm covered the rest of his body as well, thought about how it would feel to have his body pressed against mine. What the hell was wrong with me that I was thinking about this biker that way, hours after Billy had choked me?
Way to go, Dani, I thought. Congratulations. You officially have the world’s worst taste in men. They should give out awards for that.
I wiped my nose again, aware I had to be standing there in front of him covered in vomit and snot. This day could not get any worse. Who cares what he thinks, anyway?
“You okay?” he asked.
“I ran out of gas,” I said, as if that would explain the vomiting and crying.
“Okay. But are you all right?” He gestured toward the grass where I had knelt. So he had seen everything.
“Yes.” I paused. “No. I’m having a really bad day.” I half expected him to laugh at me, the rich girl in the Mercedes, whining about having a rough life. But he didn’t laugh. He just nodded, looking at me.
“I can see that.”
“I’m sorry about nearly running you off the road before. I didn’t see you at all. I was going to stop, but you were still riding…” My voice trailed off, and I knew my excuse sounded lame, even as I spoke. I felt naked under the intensity of his stare.
“Okay then,” he said. “You want a lift to the gas station? I'm pretty sure there’s one a couple miles down the road here.”
“That would be great. Thank you,” I said. “I’m Dani.”
“Blaze.”
Blaze? What the hell kind of a name was Blaze? I opened my mouth, then closed it again. “Blaze?”
“Yeah?”
“Thanks for the help.”
He nodded, and I followed him to the motorcycle, a blacked out Harley Crossbones. “You ridden a bike before?”
“A couple of times.”
“Good,” he said. “Hang on tight. You have to move with me.” Move with him. That won’t be a problem, I thought. I took the Pacific Highway on the way back, down the road past Big Sur, enjoying the weather and the scenery. Nothing felt better than the bike between my legs, the sun on my face, and a ride like this. I should have taken the highway and just headed straight back to the clubhouse, but hell, Tank and Itchy and the other guys were already on their way back. It would be no big deal if I took my time. Mad Dog would understand. Shit, he’d understand anything that involved getting pussy.
Riding solo like this gave me time to breathe. I loved the Inferno MC, more than anything, but it was like spending all your time with family, a huge fucked up dysfunctional one. Sometimes you just needed to get out and ride alone, clear your head. Of course, my head was plenty clear right now. Hell, I'd just gotten laid this morning. But it was too sunny and this was too good a ride to trade for the shorter one down the interstate.
It was late afternoon when I hit open road, and I finally sped up, trying to cover more mileage before nightfall. I'd gotten out of the scenic part of the the Pacific Highway, so I needed to get this show on the road. I shifted uncomfortably on the seat. I needed to stop and stretch. My back and hands started getting sore now more than they used to; at thirty-eight, I was nowhere near old, but damned if I hadn't started feeling old the past few years. I really needed a piss break too.
I looked up at a couple of cars ahead of me, after miles of nothing- a minivan full of kids and a red convertible, some rich kid probably out for a joyride. Revving the engine, I started to pass the cars, and saw red out of the corner of my eye.
"What the hell?" I swerved onto the shoulder, feeling my back tire start to spin out and nearly losing control of the bike.
"Fucking bitch." Slowing to a stop, I adjusted my helmet and took a minute to calm myself down. The convertible was up ahead of the minivan now. That girl hadn't even slowed down. Motorists never fucking watched for bikes, and that kind- the rich, entitled college girls whose daddies bought them expensive cars? Those were the worst.
Heat boiled in my chest. I could chase her down, run her off the road, teach her a lesson. You should do it. A year ago, that's what I would have done. Before Althea died. A year ago, I'd have pulled up beside her, kicked her driver's side mirror off the car, and made sure she understood she needed to watch where she was fucking going.
"Fuck!" I yelled, letting the rage pass. Althea's death had hit me hard, made me rethink things, start calming my shit down. Calm? That’s not a good thing for a biker, that voice in my head said. No, it is a good thing. Means you gave a shit about your foster mom, actually learned something from her.
Down the road a while longer, I had let it all go. I was fucking Zen, thoughts of that spoiled rich bitch completely gone from my head. Then I saw it up ahead. That bright red convertible, pulled over to the shoulder, and I was right back in the same spot I was twenty minutes ago. Filled with rage. I might have let it go before instead of chasing her down and kicking the shit out of her car, but now? The car up there, disabled on the side of the road, was a gift from God, a big flashing neon sign telling me this girl needed to learn a lesson. And I was a good fucking teacher.
I slowed the bike, rolled up behind the vehicle, and turned off the engine. Up ahead, the driver's side door was open, and I craned my neck to see around it. There she was, ahead of the car, on her knees in the dirt.
What was she doing? Oh, Christ. She was puking her brains out, crying something fierce. I sat there, frozen on the bike. I was good at beating the shit out of things, but chicks crying? I would rather someone kick me in the nuts a bunch of times than have to deal with a crying girl.
I didn't think she saw me yet. I could just ride away. It's not like I know her.
I thought of Althea, about the look on her face if she knew I had just abandoned some girl on the side of the road. Goddamn it, Althea, I thought. Even from beyond the grave you still know how to guilt me into doing what you think is right. Now I was going to have to get involved in some drama I didn't need.
Swinging my leg over the seat, I dismounted the bike and stood a few feet away, watching her. I was waiting for an excuse, anything she might do or say that would give me a reason to get back on my bike and burn rubber out of there. I was still pissed about her cutting me off, even if she was a total mess on the side of the road. I shut her driver's side door with a bang, but I didn’t kick a dent in it with my boot. Even though I wanted to. Give me a reason, I thought.
The girl jumped up, wiping her mouth on her hand. She might be a mess but she’s hot mess, I thought. Emphasis on hot. Keep your dick in your pants, Blaze.
She looked up at me, with big brown doe eyes and pouty lips, tears still wet on her cheeks. I squinted at her. Yup, she had snot dripping from her nose. Not that I’d kick her out of bed, even for that. I looked her over. Shit, she had to be all of twenty.
"You ok?" I asked. She blinked back tears, lower lip still trembling, and I shifted uncomfortably. Getting a hard on here for this kid stranded on the side of the road with snot dripping out of her nose was the last thing I needed. Of course, she was hardly a kid. Hot wasn't really the right word either. Hot was for the girls I banged regularly, the ones with fake tits and tattoos. This girl was something else entirely.
She was beautiful even with vomit on her shirt. The scarf tied around her head barely kept her brown hair restrained, and pieces fell out of it, giving her this wild look. She had another scarf tied around her neck, which was really out of place, like something from a fifties movie. But what the hell did I know about fashion. She wore jeans and a long sleeved black shirt, even though it was still eighty degrees outside, but the clothes couldn't disguise her hourglass figure. I had to force myself to not picture her naked.
"I ran out of gas," she said, sniffling. She wiped her nose on the back of her hand.
I hid a smile. That's karma, I thought. But seriously, what was with kids these days? Run out of gas on the side of the road, and you're crying and puking? I'd be thumbing or hiking down to the gas station, not acting like it was the end of the world. I almost hated to offer her a ride. She obviously needed some life skills. And you only got life skills by learning how to cope when shit happened, like figuring out what to do when you ran out of gas and were stranded on the side of the road.
But then again, she was really hot.
"Okay. But are you all right?" I asked, gesturing toward the grass where she'd been vomiting, not because I was all that concerned, but because I was just having a hard time believing anyone would be this much drama over running out of gas.
"Yes." She paused, sniffling again. "No. I'm just having a really bad day."
No shit, I thought. I was about to give her a lesson in bad days, like the one I'd nearly had when she ran me off the road, but she spoke too quickly.
"I'm sorry about almost running you off the road before. I didn't see you at all. I was going to stop, but you were still riding..."
I stared at her, trying to tell whether she was just some kid having a shitty day or whether she was an entitled rich bitch who needed to learn a lesson about riding bikers off the road. Then her big brown eyes welled up again, and she blinked back tears. I groaned. Shit. I was getting soft in my old age.
I sighed. "Okay then," I said. "You want a lift to the gas station? I'm pretty sure there's one a couple of miles down the road here."
"That would be great," she said. "Thank you. I'm Dani."
Dani. It was nice. Suited her. I shook my head. No, I didn't need to think about what suited her.
"Blaze," I said.
"Blaze?"
She was about to say something, and I waited for her to make a smart comment about my name so I could ditch her here and leave her for some trucker to find. “Yeah?”
"Thanks for the help."
I nodded, and she followed me to the bike. "You ever ridden a bike before?" I doubted it. She didn't look like the type to be riding on the back of a motorcycle. More like the kind of girl you see on the pages of a magazine, yachting with her rich boyfriends.
She nodded. "A couple times."
All right then. "Hang on tight. You have to move with me."
Dani pressed her body against my back, arms wrapped around me, gripping my chest. I revved the engine to life, the motor rumbling between my legs. This bike was the surest way of picking up chicks. Better than a cute little puppy. There was something about having a monstrous piece of metal vibrating between their legs that made women wet.
Quit, I told myself. You've got no call to be thinking about this one like that. Just drop her off at the gas station and be done with her.
I felt her breasts against my back, and I had to focus on not getting hard as I rode with her. An image of Dani naked, her body pressed against my back, flashed through my mind. Get her out of your head, I thought. This isn't the time or place. I actively focused on the road, but when we got to the gas station, I still had to adjust, pulling at my jeans, trying to make sure my arousal wasn’t evident.
When she hopped off the bike, I expected this girl to give me a quick 'thanks' and jet. Instead, she stood in front of me, no longer the bundle of emotions and nerves I'd seen on the side of the road. She was giving me a once-over.
"Thanks for the ride," she said.
I nodded. "There's a payphone in there, I'm sure. Or you should have cell reception, if you want to call someone."
Dani smiled. "I appreciate it. It's not every day I get to ride a sweet Crossbones like this.”
"You know bikes?"
"A little bit. My dad has business associates who ride. I grew up around them."
"Well, you're full of surprises." The way she said business associates made me think of the mafia, and I hid a smile. Her father's business associates were probably some group of accountants who rode motorcycles on the weekend. Fucking weekend warriors.
Dani's eyes twinkled. "You have no idea, Blaze." She winked, stepping back. Not only was she not that train wreck by the side of the road anymore, she was confident. Cocky. "Anyway, thanks for the help. I appreciate it." She started toward the store.
"Hey!" I called. What the fuck am I doing? Let her go. "You want me to give you a ride back out to your car?"
Dani turned, looking at me with those big brown eyes again. Those eyes. My heart raced. Man, this girl was going to be the death of me.
"I don't want to be any trouble,” she said.
I shrugged. "No trouble. I need to stop and get something to eat though. There’s a diner here I’ve eaten at before- it’s pretty decent. I can give you a ride back out there after that." Why had I just said that about eating? I wasn't planning on stopping for food.
Dani smiled. "You sure?"