She walked to the window and stared out. Below them was the long row of bikes, with men either sitting on them or talking together close to them. She spotted Alena with her platinum hair on her own bike. Heads turned toward the center of the parking lot. A cop car had driven in with another vehicle behind it.
Her heart stopped when Winston jumped out on the passenger side and followed the policeman to the office. One by one the bikes started up, their pipes roaring. Heart pounding, she turned to Ice. Her mouth was dry. She felt as if she’d been punched in the stomach all over again. She knew the color had drained from her face.
Ice silently handed her a jacket and gloves and then stepped up to the window to take in everything happening in the parking lot. The cop, manager and Winston were walking together toward the stairs on the opposite end. Watching them, Soleil pulled on the jacket, zipped it up and tugged on the gloves, already moving to the door.
Ice stopped her. “That him? The maggot? Does he have the cops looking for you?”
She knew he might misinterpret the reason, but she didn’t care. They had to leave now. She nodded.
He pushed sunglasses on her nose and handed her a helmet. She stuffed her braid into the helmet and settled it on her head. Ice took her hand and they walked out together, his arm around her waist as they went to the opposite staircase, their backs to the cop. She could hear them knocking on a door and the manager calling out to the occupant.
Ice swung his leg over his Harley, and she put her hand on his shoulder and climbed on behind him, settling onto the seat, her arms around him. His brothers began to take off, one by one, in formation. Ice followed suit and then they were away from the motel. She could take a breath. Breathe. Elation filled her.
Winston was checking hotels and motels. Some poor woman must have checked in alone and they were making certain that woman wasn’t her. Winston hadn’t even glanced at the motorcycles. Clearly, it hadn’t occurred to him that she would be with them.
She tightened her arms around Ice and let herself be carried away by the experience. The wind was warm, and because there were no doors or windows, she felt as if she were right out with the scenery. It was beautiful once they left Vegas. She loved having the other bikes around them. Somehow, it made the experience more powerful. She loved the feeling of freedom. Several times, Ice put his hand over hers, and she loved that small connection between them.
She should have been thinking about how she had screwed up and needed to end their marriage as quickly as possible, but she loved riding on the motorcycle with him. She loved holding him close and feeling the vibration of the bike between her legs. Maybe it was because she found Ice so sexy that she found the bike that way as well.
Hours passed. They stopped for a water break and to top off gas tanks, but they rode steadily throughout the day. The buzz faded a little, to be replaced by aches and pains—her body protesting the long ride when she wasn’t used to it. She didn’t complain. She was just grateful she had Ice to hang on to. He continued to do little things that kept her aware of him. More importantly, the way he touched her, dropping his hand to wrap it around her thigh, rubbing the back of her gloved hand, just small things, but they made her feel important to him.
They stopped to eat at a little diner just off the highway toward evening. They parked their bikes and went in, Storm catching the door to allow Soleil and Ice through. Ice had his hand on the small of her back as they walked inside. Her legs were very shaky, and she desperately needed the ladies’ room. As if he knew, Ice walked straight to the door. As she went inside, Alena ducked in with her.
“Those boys, they just keep riding no matter what,” Alena said, laughing as they raced for the stalls.
“I didn’t think we’d ever stop,” Soleil admitted.
“I was expecting you to tell Ice to take a rest.”
Soleil thought about that. She was tired, and she knew they had a distance to go. Vegas was at least eight and half hours from San Francisco by car. If Caspar was three or four hours from San Francisco, even traveling a different route, they still had a long way to go. She found she didn’t care. She washed her hands and looked at Alena through the mirror.
“I like traveling this way. With him. He feels safe.”