“How was I supposed to know you’d answer? I tried to call you after the Bullstow job, and you ignored me. I tried to call you tonight, and you ignored me. How would I know you’d actually pick up this time?”
Tristan closed his mouth and stared at the kill switch. “I shouldn’t have ignored you before, but I would have come and picked you up if you needed me.”
“That almost sounded like an apology. Why are you here, and on my bike, no less?”
“Shirley’s team is already taking everything we used tonight and prepping for new paint jobs. She’s pretty pissed she’s having to redo it so soon.”
“You could have ridden your Amazon.”
“I could have, but I knew you’d recognize your Firefly. I got worried something had happened to you. I thought maybe you’d been pinched. I’ve been driving around for the last half-hour looking.”
“Where are the others?” Lila asked, stretching her ankle.
“One of the trucks is still out, but they shook off the militia. They’re just lying low until they can work their way around back to the shop. Fry and Dice made it back on the bikes before I did. Doc says Toxic and Frank will be fine, by the way. They’re in a spare room back at the shop, sleeping.”
“And Dixon?”
“He’s fine too.” Tristan shifted on her bike and squeezed the grips, head ducked low. “Look, Lila. I wanted to talk to you about Dixon. This thing you’re starting up with him—tread carefully. He doesn’t get mixed up with women often. Certainly not highborn women. He didn’t even know who you were at first, or it wouldn’t have gotten started up in the first place.”
“Because highborn women are horrible monsters?”
“Occasionally, some are. Look, just don’t… If you aren’t into him, don’t lead him on.”
Lila stopped mid-stretch. “Okay, Mother.”
“Don’t mock me.”
“Don’t leave yourself open to it. Dixon’s a big boy. I think he can manage his sex life on his own. I know I can.”
“Don’t you think he’s got enough shit to deal with?”
“Yeah, I pity him.”
“Pity? He doesn’t need your damn pity.”
“Sure he does. He has to live with you, doesn’t he? I couldn’t imagine the horror. Now slide back. You’re on my bike. A bike I actually paid money for.”
Tristan reluctantly scooted back, and Lila swung her leg over. She put on her helmet, which he’d stuffed into netting behind him. She barely felt it when Tristan put his hands on her waist.
“If you don’t hold on tighter than that, you’re going to fall off. I really don’t want to see your temper when I start laughing my ass off about it.”
He gripped her a bit tighter. She smelled his soap, the hint of whiskey, and the shop. His scent and touch were so inviting that she had to stop herself from leaning back into him. It was so inviting that she had trouble thinking about anything else while she rode. His warmth upon her back, his arms on her hips.
The vibrating motor between her legs.
She definitely needed a vacation. After she wrapped up the Wilson case, she’d take a week off and head to some highborn resort a million kilometers away from New Bristol, the security office, her mother, the High Council, the next season, Tristan. She wouldn’t even have to worry about condoms. Alex would slip them in her luggage for her.
She’d done it before.
When they rounded the corner onto Shippers Lane, Dixon pushed off the wall and flung open the dock door. The pair rode into the shop, narrowly avoiding Shirley and her team, who’d already removed several panels off the first truck.
Two small, mismatched socks poked out an open tailgate of another, and a flash of ginger peeked out of a blanket at the other end.
“Couldn’t get him to his bedroll. Had to move it down here. He says he wants to help,” Shirley grunted. “Told him I’d wake him up later so that he could learn how to sand down the paint. It put him back to sleep, at least for a while.”
“He won’t sleep easy until everyone’s back,” Tristan said. “Not for a long time yet. He’ll either grow out of it, or he won’t.”
Dixon pointed up.