Lex

Seeing the girls walk away wasn’t easy for either of us. For him, there were too many questions he simply couldn’t answer, and I could see that it frustrated him. For me, watching the them leave was difficult and emotionally exhausting. In the end, having them reunited with their families was very rewarding, yet I found it to be a slightly troubling experience.

I felt like I was losing members of my family.

Sisters I’d never see again.

We dropped off Marbella, and I could see the end of our time together approaching. I produced all the excuses I could summon in support of why I didn’t want to go home, but none of them seemed to work. After a little pleading – begging was more like it – he offered to let me take a shower at his house. Appreciative of not only what he’d done, but of the character he seemed to possess, I sat at his kitchen table and studied him.

He was big, muscular, rough-looking, and covered in tattoos. Most women would simply thank him and leave, but for whatever reason, I needed him to remain close to me for a little bit longer.

I was normally attracted to men like him, but it wasn’t his physical characteristics that lured me. After a few moments, I decided it was his compassionate nature that I found attractive.

After spending a lifetime convinced heroes only existed in books and movies, having real-life one sit in front of me left me a little star struck.

I rested my cheek against my hand and cocked my head to the side. “How old are you?”

The words came out before I could stop them. Obviously, I was more than just a little star struck. I decided it was fine. I wanted to know his age anyway.

Halfway through a sip of his coffee, he lowered the cup and looked at me. “Thirty-one.”

I nodded.

The corner of his mouth curled up. “Why?”

Despite his rough exterior, he was actually kind of cute. I grinned. “Just wondering.”

He returned a nervous look and lifted his cup. “You ready to go when we’re done with these?”

I shook my head. “Nope.”

“You need to get home,” he said. “Hell, you didn’t even let me call your mom and say you’re alright.”

I shrugged. “I’m not ready yet.”

He leaned forward and rested his tattooed forearms on the edge of the table. “Listen. You’re probably in shock. You need to go home, go to the hospital and get checked out, and then get some rest. We need to finish this coffee and go.”

“You said you’d let me ride for as long as it took to clear my head.” I arched an eyebrow. “It took forever to get everyone dropped off, and we basically rode from your clubhouse to here. I just wanted to get cleaned up. Now I’m ready.”

His brow wrinkled. “Listen. I’m not even going to act like I can imagine what you’ve been through, but I know you can’t just act like it didn’t happen. The club’s President? The guy you said was a dick? His mom works at a place that--”

“I’ll be fine. Really,” I said.

He leaned back and let out a sigh. “When you get home, you’re really going to need--”

“Home? Right now, I don’t have a home. When those assholes…” I took a deep breath and then sighed. “When I was at the 7-Eleven I was on my way to ask my mother if I could move in with her for a while. The guy I was living with smacked me for the last time, and I left after he went to work. All my shit’s in my car. Or, at least it was.”

“God damn.” He pushed his cup aside and shook his head. “You can’t catch a break.”

“A break?” I coughed out a laugh and struggled to keep from spitting coffee on him in the process. “I don’t need a break. Life throws us good days and bad days. Accepting the bad days as being part of life’s cycle allows me to appreciate the good ones that much more.”

“Hell of an attitude to have,” he said with a nod.

“Listen,” I said. “When we were on our way out of that shit-hole, it sure didn’t look to me like that prick with the tattoos on his face was going to hurt anyone else. He got what he had coming. That’s todays break, I guess.”

He nodded and looked away.

I took a sip of coffee. “Guy with a swastika, huh?”

“Yeah,” he said without looking at me.

I chuckled. “Okay.”

He looked at me. “So, what are we gonna do?”

“You ready to take me for that ride?”

He sighed and shifted his eyes toward the kitchen.

I finished my coffee and then shook my head. “Look, mister. You can think whatever you want, but they didn’t destroy me. I didn’t let them. I won’t give anyone that satisfaction. I’m just some girl who had an asshole for a boyfriend, and was at the right 7-ELEVEN at the wrong fucking time. It’s over, and regardless of whether you want to take credit for it or not, I have you to thank for it. I don’t want anything from you but to use your motorcycle to clear my head.”

He met my gaze.

“So, thank you,” I said. “Now. What about that ride?”

“After everything you’ve been through, I don’t know if taking you for a ride is a good idea. You need to go to your mom’s house and--”

I shot him a shitty glare. “I want a ride on your bike, not your cock.”

“You’ve got quite a mouth for a little girl,” he mumbled.

Little girl?

His words ground against the grain of my being like fingernails on the chalkboard of life.

I folded my arms across my chest and sharpened my glare. “Little girl? I’ll be twenty-one in two weeks, and I’ve lived through more shit than most women will endure in ten fucking lifetimes. I’ve been shitting in a bucket that I had to share with seven other girls for the last week, sleeping on a piss covered floor, and the only food I’ve had is a handful of granola bars and this cup of god damned coffee. Have you heard me complain once?”

He stared at me with wide eyes.

“Even fucking once?” I snarled.

His tugged at the bill of his hat, but didn’t respond.

“Well,” I snapped. “Have you?”

He shook his head. “Nope.”

“That’s because I’m not a little girl. And, I’m perfectly fucking capable of making my own decisions.” I stood up and shot him a sideways look. “Remember that.”

“Alright, then,” he breathed. “You ready to take that ride?”

* * *

We rode for the entire morning, and I found it to be so much more than a means of transportation. It was therapeutic.

Refreshing.

Cleansing.

We didn’t really talk during the ride. My mind drifted to thoughts of freedom, flying, and what it was like to be an eagle. The experience was the polar opposite of what I had been exposed to during my abduction.

When we were finally done, he pulled into my mother’s driveway. I released my grip from his waist and mentally prepared to get off the motorcycle, even though I didn’t really want to.

The front door swung open, and my mother screeched. I lifted my leg over the seat and fumbled to get my footing. As she ran down the driveway toward us, my savior and I exchanged a quick look.

Nothing was said, but I don’t know that anything needed to be. Our eyes simply locked for an instant, and then he broke my gaze.

His rough exterior could do nothing to completely hide his caring inner self.

And, it was at that instant, when our eyes met for only a split-second, that I decided I wanted to know more about the man who slayed my monsters in his spare time.