Over the next two days, I slowly weaseled my way into K.C.’s life, shooting her concerned texts and trying to appear sincere. I wasn’t sure if she was disclosing our communication to Tate, but it was only a matter of time before I made sure Tate found out anyway.
“Thank you for the ride.” K.C. unfastened the helmet and smiled down at me.
It was Monday night, and I’d just picked her up from work after she’d texted, asking for a ride.
When I got there, though, she started acting unnaturally affectionate. Rubbing her fingers through my hair, touching my arm. Familiarity we hadn’t gotten to yet.
I looked behind her, before she climbed on my motorcycle, and spied her ex with some of his friends inside the theater lobby, watching us.
And that’s when I knew what she was doing.
I smiled, pretty proud of her for using me, actually.
And interested.
Tate had been giving me the evil eye today, and if I could continue to get under her skin while helping K.C. make her boyfriend jealous—without actually having to go that far with her—then I was comfortable.
I took the helmet out of her hands and gave her a quick peck on the cheek. “See you tomorrow.”
She let out a tiny sigh with her smile.
K.C. was a good girl, and the knots in my stomach settled.
Firing the engine on my bike, I put on my helmet and sped off, not sure where.
I never wanted to be home anymore.
Or maybe I always wanted to be home.
Tate was alone next door, and I couldn’t help where my thoughts traveled. We were both kind of on our own—her dad out of the country, and my mom leaving me by myself most of the time—and my damn dirty mind always entertained ideas of shit I couldn’t have with Tate. Every night we’d fall asleep less than fifty feet from each other, and the gnawing sensation in my head had me ready to scream.
All that wasted time.
After spending a couple of hours at the garage where I worked, hanging out with Madoc and doing some maintenance on my bike, I was finally satisfied that Tate was probably asleep. I wouldn’t have to look at her bedroom, warmed by the bright light, and wonder what she was doing in there.
Or what she was wearing.
Stopping at a red light, I checked my rearview mirror and did a double-take.
Is that…?
A Honda S2K was behind me.
A white 2005 Honda S2K.
Shit.
My heart climbed up my throat.
I knew these guys, and I clenched the handlebars, trying to steady my nerves.
Idiot Vin Diesel wannabes from Weston that didn’t know how to lose gracefully. I’d raced the owner of the car at the Loop last week and beat him. He’d made a big show about it being an unfair race, and from the looks of it, he hadn’t gotten over it.
They were the only car behind me, but they’d given me a wide berth.
The light turned to green, and as soon as I laid on the gas, the Honda did as well.
Dammit. I shook my head, my fears proved true. Not tonight.
Slipping my phone out of the front pocket of my hoodie, I dialed Madoc.
“Hey,” I said, glancing in my mirror again, “are you home yet?”
“No.”
Slowing down for the stop sign, I spoke quickly. “Turn around and head to my house. Got a tail of the Fast and Furious variety. May need some back up.”
“I’ll be there in five.” And he hung up.
Fumbling, I shoved the phone back into my pocket. As I laid off the clutch, I revved the gas and sped off around the corner. A cold rush of wind hit my face, and I strangled the handlebars to keep my body glued to the bike.
Shit.
My heart was damn-near pounding through my chest, but I didn’t take my eyes off the road, even to look behind me.
I wasn’t in a hurry to get there without Madoc backing me up, but I didn’t want to risk that they’d start some shit with me still driving my bike, either.
They were in a car. I was the vulnerable one.
Racing up my driveway, I twisted my head around in time to see the Honda speeding to a screeching halt at my front curb.
Ryland Banks, the short, buzzed-cut driver and owner of the car, got out right away.
Tate.