Astor
“I forbid you to walk out that door, young lady.”
It’s all I can do to keep from rolling my eyes at her. “Mother, please. I’m eighteen, and not a little girl anymore. You have to stop treating me like one!” This isn’t the first time we’ve had an argument like this, and every time, I make that same argument, and every time, I feel like a little girl stamping her foot and throwing a fit when I say those words.
“You don’t even know this man, Astor. And he rides a motorcycle.” She whispers the last word as if it’s forbidden, a strange combination of dread and disgust taking over her face.
I hear Cory’s boots on the wooden front steps as they approach the door. “Mother,” I whisper through my teeth. “Enough. He’s taking me to get my car. That’s it. That’s all. Now please, step aside.”
I’m shocked when she listens and steps aside, though making it clear she doesn’t like this one single bit. I don’t give her a chance to relay that fact, though. When I open the door, Cory’s hand is poised over the doorbell, just about to push the button. I rush out, closing the door firmly behind me.
“Well hello,” he says with a chuckle as I grab his arm and pull him down the front steps.
I head right for his motorcycle and stop directly in front of it. “Hi,” I say, glancing behind us to be sure Mother is still inside the house and not on her way out to drag me back inside.
Cory picks up the helmet and hands it to me. “Everything all right?”
I sneak a peek back at my house and see Mother watching us through a gap in the curtains, but before I can make eye contact with her, she steps away from the window. “It is now,” I assure him with a smile that is much cheerier than I feel in this moment. I hate fighting with her, but I’m so tired of her obsessive, overprotective nature.
Cory’s face breaks out into a grin, causing my knees to go weak, distracting me. His hands come out and do up the chin strap. “So, do you want the good news or the bad news?”
This makes me pause. “There’s bad news?”
Cory chuckles and smiles down at me. “The good news is, your car isn’t going to cost you a fortune. The guy who’s fixing it owes me one, so you’ll just have to pay for parts.”
That is very good news, and I’d be relieved if I wasn’t worried about the rest. “And the bad news?”
He swings onto the motorcycle and holds out a hand for me to steady myself as I climb on behind him. “The bad news is, he’s not going to be finished until later tonight.”
I pause as I’m adjusting myself on the seat. “Later tonight?”
He starts up the motorcycle. “Yep,” he yells over the engine. “But fear not, Thumbelina. I’ve got something in mind to keep us busy ’til then.”
For the first time, I notice the patch on the back of Cory’s leather vest: Lucifer’s Bastards. I’ve heard of them. Actually, everyone has heard of them. They’re a motorcycle club known in these parts for doling out their own version of justice wherever they see fit. People all across the state fear them. What am I doing?
My hands grip tighter around his waist as he tears off down the street. What does he mean keep us busy? I thought we were just going to get my car. Fear threatens to pull me under as I realize that I’m zipping down the road on the back of a strange man’s motorcycle, and I don’t even know where we’re going.
It’s not that I’m afraid of Cory. Not anymore. I may not know him, but he’s been nothing but kind and helpful, and I’m pretty sure that if he were some sort of serial killer, he’d have just offed me last night in the woods and left me to the creatures of the night.
To be honest, I don’t really know what I’m so afraid of, and that’s what scares me. Growing up under my mother’s roof hasn’t always been easy. She loves me—of that, I’m sure—but she’s sheltered me with Christ and smothered all the rebellion out of me since the day I was born, and this whole situation is taking me completely out of my comfort zone.
I go to school and church, and I babysit for people that my mother has approved of. That’s the extent of my life experience. Motorcycles and gorgeous men with unknown agendas isn’t something I ever imagined happening to me.
At the next stoplight I lean forward, blushing a little as my chest presses against Cory’s broad back. “Where are you taking me?” I call over the roar of the engine.
I feel his torso shake with laughter, and as the light turns green, he turns his head toward me and yells, “To meet my mother.”