“Why are we stopping?” Naiya slid off the bike after he turned off the engine, her face creased with worry. “Is something wrong with the bike?”
“I can’t.” Holt choked on his words. “I can’t go without Tank.” He dismounted his bike and flipped the kickstand.
“Then we’ll go back.” Naiya wrapped her arms around him, hugged him tight.
“If we go back, you’ll miss your interview.”
“I’ll reschedule.” She looked up at him; her eyes warm with sympathy. “I’m not in any big hurry. I haven’t even decided if it’s really what I want to do with my life, and I’ve got six other interviews lined up. This is more important. I know how much Tank means to you. If you need to stay, then we’ll stay. I can fly out to the other interviews.”
Holt shook his head. “I can’t stay in Conundrum and not be a Sinner. And I want to be with you. You’re my heart, Naiya. I waited my whole life to find you, and I’m not gonna let you go. We’ll find our path together. I just never thought we’d be doing it without Tank.”
“Do you want to text him again?”
“I texted. I called. I left messages. He’s not answering his phone.” He kicked at the gravel, stared out over the highway. “Fuck.”
In the distance he heard the unmistakable rumble of a Harley engine.
His skin prickled and his pulse kicked up a notch. If he’d been a praying man, he would have prayed for just one thing. But he wasn’t. So he closed his eyes, held on to the woman he loved, and made a wish.
The rumble turned into a roar.
Holt opened his eyes and his wish came true.
EPILOGUE
Naiya parked her SUV in front of T & T’s Auto Body Shop, carefully maneuvering around the row of motorcycles gleaming in the Montana summer sunshine. Every week that row got longer and longer. She would have been happy if the bikers had all been customers, although Tank and Holt had more than enough mechanic work to keep them busy, but many of them belonged to MC presidents who had come courting Holt to set up a new MC in Northern Montana, uniting them all under one patch—Holt’s patch.
Tank came running out to help her unload her briefcase and boxes, his navy coveralls streaked with grease. Swamped with work, the Montana State Crime Lab had set up a new branch in Auburn, just north of Whitefish and after only one year working with them, Naiya received a promotion and the extra work to go with it. Sometimes she missed the time she, Tank, and Holt had spent on the road crisscrossing the country after leaving Conundrum, when they had nothing to worry about except where they were going to sleep the next night and how many women Tank would have to fight off at the bars.
“You should have called. I would’ve come to get you,” Tank chastised. “Holt’s gonna be pissed when he finds out you carried all these boxes to your car. You’re supposed to be taking it easy.”
“He’ll only be pissed if he finds out, and you’re not going to tell him.” Her gaze flicked to the shop that Holt and Tank bought together after she’d accepted the job in Auburn. They’d fixed it all up themselves and within a matter of months had built up a reputation for quality work in the biker community. When Holt had started to seriously consider setting up his own MC, he and Tank built an office out back to keep their activities discrete and away from the prying eyes of local civilians.
Naiya glanced over at the shop. “Is Holt in the office?”
Tank nodded. “He’s got four MC presidents in there with him. They sure want him bad. They see a leader in him, and once the biker is in your blood, it’s not easy to let it go.”
Naiya snorted a laugh. “I figured that when we were on the road, and you two would only go to biker bars, get your bikes fixed at biker shops, and let me wear biker gear when I wasn’t in an interview.”
“Those were good times.” He dug his hand into his coveralls and pulled out two tickets. “Speaking of good times … you busy tonight? Fractured Skyway is playing down in Whitefish. I missed them at the big rally where we took down Viper. A customer gave me these comps and told me not to miss the warm-up band. He said they were just as good as the headlining act. I was curious so I looked them up…” His voice trailed off, and Naiya frowned. Was Tank … blushing?
“And?” she prompted.
“The band is called Snark Bite, and Connie is the front woman. Fractured Skyway is her parents’ band. Looks like she started something up on her own. You never met her, but she’s the one…” He cleared his throat—“… who got away.”
“And you need a wingman or woman?”