Outlaw Road (A MC Romance) (17 page)

It had been a few months since I'd last ridden Claudine's bike. The old adage about never forgetting? God, I hoped it was true.

Jumping on top, I straddled the metal beast. The weight of it, the power, infused me with the strength I needed. This was it; now or never. Hesitation would cut the frail string that was taut between Ronin and I.

I wasn't ready for it to be over so soon.

Lighting up the dark blue landscape, I tore around the gas station in a burst of speed. I got my first good look at the men. It was kind of nice, how shocked they appeared. They were nothing but white eyes and open mouths as I bore down on them.

My hope was that they'd scatter. I needed their instinct for saving their own asses to kick in. But the closer I got, the bike roaring between my thighs, the more I worried they'd stand their ground. I didn't want to mow them all down, but if I did, would Ronin be able to dodge?

Move!
I thought desperately.
Get out of the way!

Like they heard my prayers, they jumped in all directions. I was going so fast by then that I had to swerve so I didn't hit Ronin. He looked surprised, too, but more so...

He looked relieved.

I slammed the brakes, wanting him to get the hint and jump on. I thought he knew my plan, his legs pumping as he ran at me. “Hurry!” I screamed. “We have—” His hand dipped low, snatching my pistol from the back of my khakis.

I think he winked at me, but it was too dark to tell.

Spinning, he dazzled the night with flares from the gun's muzzle. Again, and again, until the three men were down—either hurt or ducking to save themselves. “Ronin!” I pleaded, watching him stride further away.

I understood why when he kicked a biker over, crouching—then standing with his own gun in triumph. Of course, they'd taken his weapon earlier.

Someone moved, but Ronin was ready, his senses on edge. That time, when he fired, I saw the blood fly. I was thrilling with his success, how he'd proven he was the faster man. I should have been sickened.

How quickly was I becoming desensitized to the violence?

“Go!” Ronin shouted, rushing to me at top speed. I choked the bike, hardly waiting for him to hop on. It was a funny change; him, gripping my waist as we spun across the dirt and onto the strip of road. I didn't look back, but I flinched at the gunfire—Ronin's bullets—as he pelted the other bikes, popping their tires. He squeezed the trigger until the gun clicked, empty. They wouldn't be chasing us anymore.

Together, we flew down the pavement.

****

H
ow long did we ride for? I didn't know. Not so long that the recent fueling emptied the tank, but long enough that I was cramping up.

We had just passed a construction site and crossed into Florida when Ronin tapped me on the shoulder, indicating we should pull off the road. I did as he asked, leading the bike off into the brush.

My thighs ached, and even my hands were sore as I turned the motorcycle off. Grimacing, I carefully slid down, testing the strength of my legs. Fuck, I was exhausted.

Bending over, I flexed my joints and just... breathed. We were alive. That would never become a novelty, not to me.

The silence was brief. I didn't know how to explain Ronin's tone; it was soft, velvet in texture... and at the same time, insistent. “Who the hell taught you to ride like that?”

Cracking my back, I let a proud smile take hold. “Claudine.”

From how he laughed, I don't think he was expecting that answer. “No shit,” he said, shaking his head in a slow swing. Tucking his hand into his hip, he offered me my pistol back. “It's out of bullets, but you should still keep it.”

“Right,” I said, tucking the weapon away. Without ammo, it couldn't kill or injure. But, it would still work as a blunt instrument, or to threaten, if I had to.

Folding his arms, he said, “You saved me back there. Thanks.”

His praise made me glow. The heat wriggled from my heart, down to some place much less innocent. “I didn't have any choice.”

“You could have taken my bike and let them shoot me.” The humor had fled. The air felt heavy. “You had that option.”

Breathing in slowly, I took one step his way. My eyes never wavered. “No. That was never an option.”

He stared me down, judging me like I'd never experienced. It was as if the sky had split, a hailstorm rumbling my way and daring me to dodge. Ronin had seen so many of my facets, but whatever it was he was looking for... or expecting... I sensed I kept surprising him.

I liked that.

His hand moved by his side. I tensed, ready and entirely unprepared. Was he going to touch me? What would it be like to taste his lips, so soon after our near death escape?

I was disappointed when he turned away, head hanging low as he walked. “I'll grab some wood for a small fire.”

“Aren't you worried we'll be seen?” The idea of more men attacking us was too much.

“They can't follow us this time.” There wasn't a hint of doubt in his voice.

His confidence reminded me of how little I knew. “How can you be so sure?”

With one brief, final glance, he said, “Trust me.”

Recently, the thought of associating that word with him would have been hilarious. When had it all changed?
Probably somewhere between New Jersey and here,
I mused.

It was incredible what a long stretch of road and time could do for the soul.

Hugging myself, I relaxed on the grass and watched his shadow. He returned with a pile of various branches and logs, the lighter I'd seen him use when he smoked setting everything ablaze.

Sitting beside me, he rested his elbows on his knees. “You manage to get any water from the gas station?”

He mentioned the place so casually. How much had he seen that we didn't even need to talk about, or decompress, from the fight? Digging into my purse, I offered him one of the bottles.

“Good job,” he chuckled.

Flushing, I hid my smile. “Will you tell me who those guys were?”

Sipping the drink, Ronin's throat worked. I watched the muscles flex, enjoying the sight, feeling myself growing thirsty for something else. Something more solid than water. “Just my past catching up with me.”

“Were they the Knights of the whatever?”

“No,” he said, smiling sideways. “At least, not directly. I was right though, Lucky did put a bounty on my head.”

It wasn't much of an answer, but I was too tired to probe further. Getting the full truth out of Ronin was exhausting.

“You did a lot of good tonight.” His voice was tender.

It pulled me back, our eyes meeting. “I did what I had to.”

Ronin's teeth shone in the firelight. “Don't we all.”

Unsure what to say, I stared into the flames.

“She really taught you to ride?”

I willed the glowing dots in my eyesight to go away. Ronin had his mouth set in a curious line. “Yeah,” I said, smiling at the thought. “She got a motorcycle years ago. Her pride and joy.”

He mulled that over, the rim of the bottle to his lips. “The one in your photo.” It was a simple statement, not a question.

I nodded. “I don't know what happened to it. It was missing back home. Now that I think about it... I'm sure Fiddle took it, dumped it or sold it to make it look like she drove off. The cops were sure convinced.” My chuckle was as hollow as a drum. “She loved that thing. Took it everywhere, and me with her. Once, she let me drive us for miles. Up to this part of the woods, where I'd never even been before. We sat there and listened to the birds, the peace. It was beautiful.”

My eyes watered at the memory; I willed them to stop. “She said we'd leave together, one day. Just her and me... riding across the country. No burdens.” The implication was massive. I was reminded of what my sister had done for me, what she'd endured... and what she'd sacrificed.

Was she alright? Was she locked up somewhere in Miami, wasting away, being used by awful men? Or had she been shipped elsewhere already?

Ronin took another drink. “She sounds like a good kid.”

That shook me from my painful reverie. Cocking my head, I considered his words. “Good kid. As in, not a junkie?”

His simple glance stopped my heart. “People can be good and still do bad shit, Flora. Sometimes you can't choose between being a saint and a sinner. Sometimes the choice is thrust upon you and you just have to make the best of it.”

With the night hours cloaking us, the ambiance sank. I wasn't cold, but I still shuddered, my knees tucking to my chest. Ronin slid between casual humor and somberness as easily as water dripped through my fingers.

Closing my eyes, I debated on a way to make him understand. Claudine wasn't a sinner. She was flawed, but she couldn't be both good and bad... and I
knew
she wasn't bad.

“Afghanistan.”

It was a single word. It made me sit up straight. “What?”

“Afghanistan,” he said again, looking into the fire. “You asked what I did before I was in the club.” The edges of his eyes sharpened.

“You were a soldier?” I would never have guessed. I associated the army with stiff, rule following protectors of the innocent.

But then...

Ronin
had
protected me.

Afraid he would stop talking, I held my tongue and waited. I was rewarded by his rumbling words. “A friend of mine, an Afghan translator I'd known for the better part of a year, was out on patrol with us. He and I fell behind and went down the wrong alley to catch up. We were ambushed.” Ronin made a fist, his knuckles shining. “He was wounded. Shot in the leg... The firefight nearly killed us both. Bullets were coming from both buildings, we were completely surrounded. I'm still not sure how I got us both out of there, but I did. I saved his life. My
friend
.”

How could he sound so bitter about that?

It was as if he wasn't even talking to me anymore. “A week later, he came back to base with a cast over his leg, claiming he was ready to get back to work. They searched him, like they did for everyone entering the base, but they didn't check him well enough. My friend had his leg amputated and had hid a bomb in the cast, knowing they wouldn't check it. He walked into the busy mess hall during lunch and detonated. Dozens of good men were killed or wounded.”

The kindling popped, making my pulse skip.

He whispered, “I saved the man that went on to kill my comrades.”

Ronin strangled the plastic bottle absently. I imagined what he was seeing in the embers. Was it himself burning away, or his friends?

“It wasn't your fault,” I said gently.

He still didn't look at me. Across his lips, a tormented smile peeled free. “I was at the gate that day when he came back to base, I vouched for him because I trusted him. Trust...” His chuckle was black. “They sent me home with an 'honorable' discharge for it. Saints and sinners.”

This revelation was opening my mind, and my heart. I was so busy with my own suffering, I'd never considered what tragedies a man like Ronin had endured. The hard claws of empathy ravaged my guts. Suddenly, everything about this biker made sense to me.

Reaching out, I clasped his forearm. A magnetic rush slid between us, sparking our awareness. I saw it happen for him, too, those gorgeous irises focusing on my surprised face.

“You couldn't have known,” I said softly, earnestly. “But your good deed isn't wasted just because another man chose a terrible path.”

Ronin's stare was intense, pushing me down into the earth. “Here I am, a killer, standing by a campfire with a beautiful woman, while better men—
brothers, even—
are below ground somewhere because of my choices. Does that seem fair to you?”

Of course it didn't seem fair, but since when was the world fair? If I knew anything at all, it was that life didn't care where you weighed in on the scales. My own life was proof of that.

But somehow, faced with his dilemma, I couldn't let such a cynical thing be said.

I clutched his hand, squeezing. “Maybe you still have some saintly things to do.”

In the hard lighting, the corners of his lips looked deeper, lusher. His skin was crimson, like he'd stolen the heat of the fire, letting it dance over his flesh where it belonged.

Sliding my fingers to his wrist, I noticed how true that was. Ronin was burning up, a beacon that called to me the way nothing else ever had.

I didn't know if I was a helpless moth, fluttering towards a candle... or if we were both just creatures crashing to our own destruction together.

That time, I was the one to kiss him.

Outside the diner, he'd tasted like fresh air, freedom and ice. It had been a refreshing thing, waking me up from my toes and onward. This kiss, though... I swear the flames slid out of him, crawling over my tongue until I was sweating.

I wanted to say something, anything. To ask him why we were doing this, what he was after, why he was helping me or following me or doing any of the things he had. Ronin hadn't lied, men were after his blood. I'd witnessed that tonight.

Being out in the open with me was a risk to him.

So why was he bothering?

What
were
we now?

And what would we become?

Our noses brushed; I pulled back, seeking enough oxygen to settle my floating brain. He made me light, airy. Only the weight of my heart kept me from flying into the night sky.

“Wait,” I whispered against his teeth.

Wrapping his fingers in my loose hair, he forced me closer. “No. No more waiting, darlin'. I've been waiting too long already.”

Trembling, I slid my chest against his, heartbeat pounding madly. “It's only been a few hours since we first kissed. That's not very long.”

Capturing the nape of my neck, Ronin grazed his teeth down my throat. My goosebumps became mountains. Tilting my chin back, he kissed my jugular—felt the way it drummed. “Flora, since this started, I've measured my existence in borrowed time. A few hours might as well be a lifetime, and in this lifetime... you're all I can think about.”

Everything around me shrank until I could see only his smile. That wonderful, ever present smile.