“Shannon, get on.”
“Is that even legal?” she asked, motioning toward the rear fender of his bike.
“I don’t see any cops.”
She put her hands on her hips.
“If you’re going, let’s go. I’ve got shit to do.”
Still she stood there glaring at him, and he got the feeling she thought if she could outlast him, she’d get her way. Wrong. “Princess, I’ll say it one more time. You going or staying? Makes no difference to me. I ain’t the one with the crazy ex stalking me.”
At his words, he watched her eyes quickly lift to the street, her gaze darting around almost as if she expected the dude to pop out somewhere. A feeling of protectiveness snaked through him. His eyes skated down the street and then back to her. And then he whispered in a low voice, “You’re really fucking scared of this guy, aren’t you?”
Her eyes met his, and her hands dropped from her hips. Without saying a word she took a hesitant step toward the bike. He slid his shades on and nodded toward her bag. “Put on your sunglasses. They suck for riding, but they’re something.”
She dug through her bag, coming up with the designer shades, she slipped them on. He watched as she hiked the hem of her dress up a bit and slid onto the fender. She put her feet where he told her and slipped the strap of her bag over her head, tucking it between them.
“Hold on tight,” he instructed, his eyes meeting hers over his shoulder. He waited until he felt her hands slid around his waist, and then with a twist of the throttle, he gunned the bike out onto the street. He felt her tuck up against him, her arms tightening around him, and he smiled.
CHAPTER THREE
Shannon hung on for dear life. It was terrifying and exhilarating at the same time. She’d been on a bike only once before. That day years ago when Cole and his group of guys had pulled her out of that van. She’d been too scared that day to remember much about it or to have enjoyed it at all.
Now she took the time to really take it all in. The wind in her face, the vibration of the bike, the roar of the engine. She smiled. It was actually fun. Sitting on the fender really wasn’t all that uncomfortable, except when he hit a bump. She’d been afraid she was going to slide right off, but she stayed on rather easily. Of course she was holding on to him.
Him.
Crash. What kind of a name was that? Dear God, she hoped it wasn’t indicative of his riding skills. Surely Cole wouldn’t have left her with this man, if he didn’t trust him. Right?
Of course, Cole hadn’t seemed too pleased with her. She supposed she’d given him cause, bringing Angel into this and all. But she’d had no choice. Surely he could understand that. If only she could have stayed with Cole and not this guy. Cole was scary in his own right, but this man, he hit a nerve with her. The way he grinned at her like she was some kind of a joke. She’d never been treated like that before, and it stung. More than she cared to admit.
Shannon knew her looks got her a lot in life, especially when it came to men. They were all too easy to manipulate to do her bidding. But she had a feeling those tactics weren’t going to work with a man like Crash. She was out of her element. Way out of it. And she didn’t have a clue what to do about it.
He took a corner, and her hands tightened over his hard abs. She could feel his muscles moving under her palms, as well as his back muscles that were flush against her front as she clung tightly to him. She could smell the leather of his vest under her cheek. Coming out of the corner, he straightened the bike up and slowed at a traffic light. She relaxed back, loosening her hold. He braked, setting his boots on the ground to hold the bike up as they waited for the red light to change.
Looking over to her right, she noticed a woman in a minivan look over at her on the back of the bike. She wondered what the woman was thinking. No matter that her outfit cost almost a grand and that her handbag cost three times that, she was sure that to that woman, her sitting on the back of this bike with her skirt inching up, revealing a good amount of leg, that she looked every bit a tramp. Shannon lifted her chin. Let her judge, sitting in her boring minivan, probably on her way to pick up her kids from soccer practice.
The light changed, and they pulled off. A few minutes later, Crash was getting on I-880 heading north. The sun was sinking low, and the lights of the city were flashing by them. It was almost a half hour before Crash exited and took several more turns before finally slowing in front of a small two-story brick building that looked like some type of abandoned manufacturing company. In old peeling paint on the side of the building were the words Amalgamated Machine Works, and below it in smaller script were the words, Machining Since 1885.
Shannon’s eyes dropped to the steel rolling garage door that looked strangely new compared to the rest of the building. It began to raise up as Crash rolled the bike slowly off the street and pulled under it, stopping just inside. As the door began to slowly roll back down, she noticed that the inside of the building was much cooler than outside. There were no windows, just a couple metal lights hanging down that had been left burning. There were iron beams in the ceiling overhead, a cement floor, an old sixties era pickup truck towards the back and not much else.
“Get off,” Crash ordered over his shoulder as he shut off the bike. She immediately dismounted, moaning as she felt the muscles in her ass and thighs protest. Mmm, she was going to feel that tomorrow.
Crash lowered the bike to its kickstand and swung his leg over, standing up. He pulled his helmet off, and then reached up and removed hers, hanging them both on the bike. She noticed the smile on his face as his eyes slid to the hand she was rubbing her backside with. “Sore, Princess?”
“A little.” She raised her chin, wishing he’d wipe that smirk off his face. “Your driving skills leave much to be desired. Seems if there was a pothole between San Jose and Oakland, you found it.”
She watched him move off toward what looked like some type of security alarm control panel. He began punching in a code, rearming it and said over his shoulder, “My driving skills are just fine, babe. Hit every one of ‘em, didn’t I?”
Her mouth dropped open. “You mean you were trying to hit them?”
He grinned.
“You’re insufferable!”
Not missing a beat, Crash fired right back, “You’re arrogant.”
“You’re infuriating!”