“You’re probably right,” he said, as she sat on the seat behind him. “But they’ll have to catch us first.” He inserted the key, flipped the switch, and pressed the start button. The engine roared to life, and he used the throttle to give it a couple of quick revs.
Kat leaned forward, pressing the front of her body to his back and sliding her arms around his waist. Though it wasn’t the time or the place, he’d have to be missing a pulse not to feel the hard points of her nipples through their thin shirts, or how her groin fit against the curve of his ass.
Stop thinking with your dick. He was looking into things too much. Trying to see and feel shit that wasn’t really there because it’d been so long since he’d had anything more than a superficial relationship.
But those were the only kinds he could afford to have. He needed to focus on helping Kat and getting back to that simple and detached way of life. End of fucking story.
She tightened her arms and something about the way she held him felt like more than just a way to stay on the bike.
End of story? Yeah, right.
“Hang on tight, kitten.”
…
Kat’s stomach fluttered so hard she was positive he could feel it where she pressed against his back. Not only had she never ridden a motorcycle before, but now she worried they wouldn’t be able to shake Sicoli’s watchdogs and she’d only succeed in pissing them off for having to chase her.
He turned his head to the side and looked at her from the corner of his eye through the clear wraparounds. “Relax, Kat. If you’re stiff it’ll make it hard for me to turn. All you need to do is lean when I lean, okay?” She nodded, unsure if he’d be able to hear her through the closed helmet.
As he rode them through the parking lot, she felt a little silly for being so nervous. It wasn’t nearly as scary as she’d thought. They stopped where the gravel lot met the paved road. Kat turned her head to the right and squinted. She couldn’t see any sign of—
Headlights switched on about a half mile down. Apparently seeing her break routine was enough reason to drop the espionage thing. Irish revved the engine several times, reminding her of a bull pawing at the ground in warning before charging those who threatened his territory.
Then all at once the bike took off in the direction of the Cadillac. Her heart lodged in her throat, and she was fairly certain her stomach lay on the ground back at the entrance to Lou’s. Thank God she’d been holding on as tight as she was, or she’d be lying there next to it.
Whoever sat behind the wheel of the car must have anticipated their move and put his foot to the floor. The tires spun, kicking up dirt as the ass end of the car swung around to point its nose right at the motorcycle. As soon as the tires caught purchase, it lurched into the street as though trying to cut them off.
Kat screamed and squeezed her eyes shut, preparing to feel her bones shatter to dust from the impact, but all she felt was a quick right-left swerve of the bike and then…nothing. Well, nothing different. She still felt the vibrating hum beneath her and she definitely felt Irish’s hard body against her smaller one. Taking a deep breath, she opened her eyes to see the landscape rush by in a blur of shadows on either side. Laughter bubbled in her chest, but where it came from or why now was an appropriate time for it to surface, she hadn’t the slightest idea.
Before she had the chance to let it out, twin beams of light crept up around them. Kat glanced back to find the Cadillac slowly gaining on them, choking her burst of joviality at its source.
“Irish!”
“I got this!” he threw over his shoulder.
Serious doubt filled her veins with ice as the car was now less than two lengths behind them. She had no idea how fast they were going, but surely this couldn’t be the fastest they could go. Weren’t crotch rockets known to be fast as hell?
Just as she started to contemplate the scraps of knowledge she had about the machine under her, a familiar yellow street sign snagged her attention. Oh, shit. Death Wish Turn.
So far they’d been on a complete straightaway, but up ahead lived a hairpin turn that got its nickname twenty-odd years ago when a local teen took it going too fast, wrecked his car, and died. Everyone said he knew better and therefore must’ve had a death wish.
Kat’s life might not be caviar dreams and champagne wishes, but she sure as hell didn’t have a death wish. “Slow down! You’re going to get us killed!”
Before she had time for a second appeal, Irish leaned deep to the right and she had no choice but to do the same. They leaned until she swore they were more than half the distance to the ground, and visions of them falling from the bike and losing their skin to the gravelly back road sent tremors down her spine. But even with the din of gloom-and-doom thoughts racing in her mind, logic stayed in the forefront, assuring her that Irish knew exactly what he was doing and despite their crazy angle, the bike was taking the super-tight turn with inexplicable grace and speed.