Connor

 

Princess and I sat side by side in one of the bar and grill’s booths, counting out twenty dollar bills with as much pleasure as a cat licking its paws.

 

“Two hundred forty … Two hundred sixty … Two hundred eighty …”

 

Rico sat opposite, handing us wads of cash as we went, trembling but silent. We counted the final bill, and I turned to Princess, both our faces glowing with success.

 

And for the tiniest second, I could have sworn to God I loved her. I leaned in, eager to kiss those sexy, awesome lips …

 

And that’s when we heard the sirens.

 

“Goddammit, Gary!” I swore, leaping to my feet. Princess, always quick on the uptake, was beside me in a second and followed me like a shadow out of the door. She was up on the bike before I was, and putting its engine into gear.

 

“Where the hell did you learn about bikes?” I hollered, as together we peeled out into the night. The sky was lit up in the distance with red and blue lights, but I wasn’t afraid. I was still buzzing with adrenaline.

 

“My father!” Princess yelled back, then fell silent. It was hard to tell if she didn’t want to say more, or simply wasn’t because it’s fucking hard to have a conversation on a moving bike.

 

“How about your fighting?” I said. “What the hell was that? MMA?”

 

She laughed into my shoulder. I could feel her hot breath in spite of the wind. “No,” she said. “Mostly self-defense, with some martial arts thrown in. Did you like it?”

 

“It was fucking amazing,” I said, and that was the truth. “I’m just pissed I couldn’t have gotten a better view. I was too busy punching Rico’s fucking face in.”

 

She laughed again, and I felt her hands digging more strongly into my waist. It was a good feeling, a pressure that spread from her touch all the way down to my dick. A girl who fights like that must be pretty strong, I thought. I wonder how tightly she can wrap those thighs around me …

 

That thought made me remember that she was, in fact, a whore. My whore. I didn’t have to wonder. I could have her whenever I wanted. It seemed strange that I had forgotten it.

 

“Weird,” I said, probing. “I don’t know too many whores who know self-defense.”

 

“Of all people,” she said darkly, “whores probably need self-defense the most.”

 

There was truth in that, but I still found it strange. I told her so, and she responded with silence.

 

“Shit!” she cried suddenly, as cop lights burst into view just on our right. We’d been going pretty damn fast down that highway, and I would have bet he was pulling us over for speeding. But just because he didn’t start with the cops after us didn’t mean he wouldn’t have figured it out fast.

 

“Hold on!” I ordered, and flicked a special switch beneath the handlebars of my bike. In an instant, all the lights of the bike went out, plunging us into darkness. Meanwhile, a small, hidden flap fell, shielding my license plate from view.

 

When the darkness struck our eyes, Princess screamed, but then she quickly contained herself. Still, I could feel her panting and clutching at me in terror as I kicked the bike up a gear, riding even faster. It aZ one thing to be going ninety at night with your headlights on. It was quite another to be going one hundred in pitch blackness.

 

“Whoa!” I cried in the pure, reckless craziness of it. Behind us, the cop revved angrily, speeding up like some sort of predatory animal who could smell its prey but couldn’t see it.

 

I chuckled, then drifted to the side.

 

“Connor!” cried Princess. “The road!”

 

But I knew. I could tell exactly where the curb was, a long black snake slinking through the moonlight. The cop sped up again, hoping to scare us.

 

“There’s a turn off just ahead,” I said. “Be ready to jump off the bike and hide.”

 

“What?” she screeched. “Jump?”

 

“Don’t worry!” I called back. “I’ve driven this highway a million times. I know it by heart!”

 

“Jesus Chriiiiiiiiist!” she screamed as I hit the brakes, suddenly slowing. I felt her slam into my back, knocking the wind out of her, but I didn’t have time to care about that. Instead, I slipped off to the side, felt the shudder of my bike as it met gravel, killed the engine, and slowed to a halt.

 

“Hurry!” I cried, practically throwing her off the bike. Then, with the force of all my muscles, I half-hurled, half-dragged the bike behind a tree, and then the pair of us crouched in the shadows.

 

The cop slowed, sniffing that something was up, but he could not hear us and he could not see us. And the faster he went looking, the more the sound of his own engine blocked any hope of detecting ours. Deciding we must still be driving, he sped up.

 

Like a narrowly dodged train, he blew by, leaving us alone in the dark.

 

“Holy … fucking … shit!” Princess cried, collapsing in a panting heap onto the ground. I glanced over, mildly worried that she would have a fucking heart attack or something, but no—she was grinning. Wildly, yes. Wickedly, yes. But still grinning.

 

“Come on, you crazy bitch,” I said affectionately. “Let’s get back to the compound.”

 

Together, we clambered back onto my bike and rode to the Devil’s Wings, using backroads all the way.