CHAPTER SIXTEEN

So it had been out the egress window--Ruby first, then Joe--borrowing a flashlight and a screwdriver they hoped Desiree wouldn't miss, then across the small copse of trees that separated Desiree's house from the lot surrounding Cat's Bar. Amazingly, still under the cover of darkness, Joe was able to pick out his own bike from the dozens of others parked outside. Ruby helped him wheel it far enough down the dirt road to give them enough of a head start so that, by the time Joe turned the key, they wouldn’t attract as much attention.

 

Ruby, despite her relative lack of sleep, was grateful to be on the road again. They didn't stop until the sunrise broke over the highway halfway between Fresno and Madelia, at a rest stop on Highway 99. It was one of those huge ones built on an overpass, complete with a gas station, a Burger King, and exhausted parents heading down south to Disneyland. All around them, sleepy children were being hauled out of their minivans and into restrooms, whining about nothing in particular.

 

Ruby hadn't realized how hungry she was until Joe came back with sausage and egg breakfast sandwiches, hash browns, and coffee. They set everything down on an outdoor table in the sun. She was too famished to even try to pretend to eat delicately, as was her habit in front of every man except Kyle. However, she paused mid-bite to reach into her handbag and push a $10 bill across the table to Joe, thinking guiltily about Joe's apparently tenuous grip on financial security.

 

He pushed it back, refusing the bill. "You're in this because of me."

 

She said nothing as she replaced the bill in her wallet. She'd been poor too long to be stubborn about this sort of thing.

 

"Follow me,” he said when she was on her last few bites. “I've got something to show you that’s not exactly suitable for children." She looked up in alarm. He laughed. “Relax; it’s not that.” She quickly took one last bite of her hash-browns and followed Joe down the nearby hill to a grove of trees that separated the rest stop from the dirt road that led into the nearby small town. He reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and pulled out a gun. He handed it to her.

 

"How did you--?”

 

"Remember that little errand Sean sent me on? It wasn't a trip to the post office. His sergeant-at-arms needed extra hands for a job.”

 

"And just like that, he helped you out?" she asked.

 

"Well, yeah. I mean, I smiled at him. It distracted him long enough for me to rob him blind." The corner of his full, sensuous lips, tugging back. "It doesn't just work on girls, you know."

 

She made a disgusted noise. "Please."

 

Joe looked away, laughing. "Kyle didn't teach you much about guns, did he?" he asked, a little amused. "You're doing it all wrong."

 

"I am not," she protested.

 

"Okay, okay," he said. "You're only doing it mostly wrong. Can I show you?"

 

She handed it over, and Joe grinned, clearly proud of himself. He cocked it, aiming it with two hands at the side of barn on the other side of the road, squinting his eyes in concentration.

 

Ruby stood up a little straighter as she watched him, cool and confident, so much like the Joe she had met at first, before he had taken his armor off. It briefly crossed her mind what had brought him to this kind of life, carrying a gun the way most people carry a wallet. Living with the constant knowledge that any moment, his best friends could be shot or stabbed right in front of him.

 

Like a stone dropping into her stomach, she remembered what Sean had said about Joe’s involvement in Kyle’s death. And even if she wasn’t prepared to ask yet, she knew she couldn’t let herself get complacent around him. A hard life made people hard, and she had to remember that. She felt momentarily transfixed as she watched his pale hand curl around the handle of the Beretta. She had to admit that his looked so much more natural on the gun than hers did. His nails looked almost groomed, free of road grit. Must have been the gloves.

 

A brisk wind ruffled the branches, causing Ruby to rub her arms. Up on the hill, the sun had been shining, but it could not reach them here under the trees. Joe, concerned, noticed right away. "I'd give you my jacket, but I know you'd shiver through the ninth circle of Hell before you'd be seen in anything with a Steel Jockeys logo on it."

 

"What can I say?" she said, tugging at his sleeve. "We all do things we're not proud of. Hand it over." He had it off in a flash, along with the black hoodie underneath. She couldn't help nestling in the heat his body had made, the padding where his bare skin had so recently touched. She tried not to glance at the logo on the breast pocket, identifying Joe as president of the charter. Idly, she wondered how many other girls had worn it. She was probably just the latest in a long line of shameless biker whores. What was she becoming? Still, as she glanced over at Joe, who demurely looked away, as if he would prefer her not to know he liked the sight of her wearing it, she still felt warm, not cold.

 

He had stripped down to just his heather-gray t-shirt, which fit him well but loosely; unlike Fox, he obviously didn't feel the need to wear smaller sizes to show off every contour of his muscles. The fabric clung to his skin, highlighting the fact that he was narrow-hipped, sinewy and as tight as a washboard, his long torso arcing deliciously down from his broad shoulders. It was the first time she'd seen him without it; even last night he'd been in too much of a hurry, so to speak, to take it off. She hoped she wasn't staring.

 

"Do you think Sean will come after us? In Madelia?" she asked suddenly.

 

"No,” he replied thoughtfully. “Sean's impulsive, sure, but he didn't get where he is by being stupid. He'd never risk getting into a pissing match with another charter over a..." he hesitated, running his hands through his hair as he sometimes he did when he was at a loss for words. "Over you," he finished. She gave a rueful smirk.

 

"Thanks, I'm honored."

 

As he helped her practice her aim, explaining what she should clearly and articulately, she was only half paying attention. The wheels in her head had begun turning. It had struck her that this guy was not only charming, but intelligent. The way he had coolly and confidently thought up a plan to get them away from Sean was so far beyond what she would have expected from a run-of-the-mill biker thug.

 

Sure, he'd had a rough start in life, but if he'd only had the opportunity for a proper education he could have used those critical thinking skills for good. He could have been anything--a lawyer, an executive, you name it. Instead, he'd drifted into this brutal lifestyle--for the same reason Kyle had, she supposed. Because he’d been poor and desperate, an orphan, and no longer had anyone to teach him any other way or to shelter him from the rough side of life.

 

But Kyle had decided to get out, and she wondered if Joe had ever thought of doing that, too--even going to work for Fox. If Kyle, why not Joe? She could pull the strings to make that happen. Yes, Fox hated the Jockeys now, but Joe was different. Maybe she could convince Fox that Joe was smart, and driven, and could even be kind.

 

With help, Joe could really make something of himself, just as she had. And then, maybe, just maybe, Ruby could dare to act on the attraction she was terrified to admit she felt for him. The two of them could be together. They could go on a real date, at a real restaurant, like a real couple. They could be seen in her town in public. It would at last be acceptable for Ruby, for a good girl, to be in his life.

 

She ought to be ashamed of herself though, planning out a new future for him. As if Joe would listen or entertain anything he had to say. Imagine suggesting he start dressing like Chace in polo shirts and khakis and go work at a dealership. It was a ridiculous thought. He’d just laugh. He was a Steel Jockey made, if not born. She had to get that through her head--even if it meant she would, when this ordeal was over, forever have to keep her distance from him.

 

There was a sudden buzz. Joe touched the pocket of his jeans and pulled out his phone, shaking Ruby out of her thoughts. Glancing at the caller, he frowned, and Ruby gathered that it wasn't anyone he relished having a conversation with in front of her. "Stay there," he commanded, and jogged down the hill and further into the trees, still carrying the gun.

 

Meanwhile, feeling quite alone again, Ruby balled up the remains of their fast-food wrappers and glanced around for a garbage can. Failing to spot one and hating to litter, she shoved them into the pocket of Joe's jacket to dispose of later.

 

But before she could remove her hand, her finger grazed upon something in the pocket that felt heart-stoppingly familiar. Slowly, barely daring to speculate or even breathe, her chilled fingers traveled along a thin metal chain, stopping to curl around a smooth, vaguely round shape of many facets. She snatched it up.

 

Chest hammering, she opened her palm to find there--coiled loosely once again--her one and only ruby heart.