“What?” Slam asked.
He spun around and charged toward the guy. He took a handful of the guy’s shirt and walked him backwards. I gasped and covered my mouth. I couldn’t look away though. I almost wanted to see Slam hit someone.
What is wrong with me?
Slam then let the guy go and grabbed the guy’s shoulder, shoving him back.
Then Slam turned and walked toward me.
“Sorry, babe,” he said. “It’s going to be a few hours.”
“What? How? Why?”
“Nick says so,” Slam said. “Said something with the filter or whatever. No big deal. We have all the parts.”
“I…” I looked at my bag. I shook my head. “No, Slam. Just shut the hood. I don’t have any credit cards with me or anything. I can’t afford any car repairs.”
“Hey,” he said. “I didn’t say a word about you paying.”
“What? How?”
“Who do you think owns this place?”
“You do?”
“Part owner,” he said. “Plus, we don’t work on cars. I’m doing this as a favor.”
I clutched my bag and stepped back. “Why?”
“Because I’m a nice guy.”
“No you’re not. You told me you’re a villain.”
He laughed. “You remember. That’s good.”
“Seriously, Slam…”
“Jesus Christ, Belle. I’m doing you a favor. I’m sorry things got out of hand at the restaurant. I’m a total hothead, okay? I didn’t mean to stir up trouble in your work. Last thing you need is to be broken down on the side of the road again.”
“Why would you care? Wouldn’t you be there to save me?”
OMG, Belle, are you flirting back right now? With this guy? This… biker outlaw thing…
Slam winked and reached for me. His pointer finger grazed my chin. “Always, babe. I’ll always save you. But for now, you’re going to do me a favor.”
“What’s that?”
“I have to get out of here,” Slam said. “I can’t take this place and I’m hungry. I had breakfast an hour ago but I could eat again.”
I started to shake my head.
Slam breezed right by me. “Suit yourself. You stay, you pay.”
“Excuse me?”
I turned and started to chase after Slam.
Next thing I knew I was standing at the side of a motorcycle. Slam grabbed a helmet and handed it out to me.
“Take it,” he said. “Come for a ride. Taste the open road, babe. Live a little.”
“You can’t go into town,” I said.
“I won’t. We’ll go west. I know a little place. We’ll grab a slice of pizza and hang.”
I shut my eyes and grabbed the helmet. I couldn’t believe what I was about to do. But it seemed like the lesser of a hundred evils. Meaning… if I stayed I’d be around an entire club of bikers. If I went with Slam, it was just him. Me and him.
I climbed onto the back of the motorcycle a minute later and slipped my hands around Slam’s body. I felt leather and then hardness. Muscle. All fucking muscle.
The rumble of engine made me shiver between my legs.
So did Slam.
His version of a little ride was different than mine. We blasted out of town and down the road I had broken down on. I couldn’t talk to him or ask where we were going. I was locked to him and his command of the motorcycle. It was freeing yet I felt anxiety. This was the kind of stuff that always got me into trouble. I couldn’t just say thanks and walk away, right? I had to end up with my car getting fixed and taking an hour long ride with Slam.
When he did stop, it was a small pizza place. You wouldn’t know it was a pizza place because it was an apartment building. A small sign stuck out that said Angie’s in small, black text.
“This?” I asked him.
“Best pizza you’ll ever have. And the view…”
He pointed and when I stepped to the side of the building I realized we were at the coast. The water crashing ten feet down into jagged rocks. The rumble of the motorcycle was fresh in my ears still but when it faded, in came the sound of the ocean.
I felt my throat tighten a little. It was so beautiful to me. Something that was so close yet I never got the chance to take advantage of. The meaning was so much deeper though. My mother loved the coast. She loved to take random road trips to different parts. Or on a nice day she’d just drive the coast.
When I saw the ocean it made me feel closer to her. If there was such thing as heaven, for my mother it would be the coast.
“You okay?” Slam asked.
“Yeah. Just… tired. I need a drink.”
Slam opened the door and the pizza place was small and worn. An elderly woman saw Slam and almost did a cartwheel. She let out a cry and hurried from behind the counter right to him. She reached up for his face. Slam bent and the woman grabbed his cheeks and pulled him down.
“Spencer!” her voice cracked.
Spencer? Was that his real name?
I felt myself blush as Slam looked back at me, curling his lip.
I had a little piece of information on him now.
Spencer.
How proper of a name for a guy thick was muscles, tattoos, and a criminal record that went for miles.
“I haven’t seen you in a long time. Where have you been?”