Tori

 

     What the hell was wrong with me? I just blew another opportunity to find Duke. How many times can I be that close and wuss out?

     Hell, Duke could have been sitting around me the whole damn time and I’d just screwed any chance of finding out. My voice and my common sense seemed to take a vacation whenever Trench was around. Trench. I blushed at the memory of his face so close to mine. I could keep searching for their clubhouse. It had to be close to town. Why else would the man stop by so often? I wouldn’t mind another reason to see Pandemonium’s leader, I thought as I wiped the table he sat at moments ago, but the entire idea was ludicrous and completely self-serving. I needed to leave well enough alone, stop letting my mother’s nonsense request drive my decisions. Except – I couldn’t. It was the way she practically begged at the end that had new found tears threatening to resurface. I thought I had done enough crying to last three lifetimes filled with grief, but there always seemed to be more.     

     I knew it would be smarter to leave well-enough alone. I was safe, for now, and that was all my mother ever wanted. Right? Even before Aaron and Preacher had held me against my will, forced me to live out the last few years in Disciple captivity, I knew it was wise to keep a long arm between myself and dangers like them. My sordid history under the thumb of the Disciples just confirmed what common sense had told me for so long. Involving a member of Pandemonium in my craptastic world was just inviting more trouble I didn’t need.

     What was I planning to do anyway, show up at Pandemonium’s doorstep like a level ten rejected hang-on and demand to get an audience with Duke Hadden? That would be about as smart as jumping from the frying pan into the fryer. I had managed hiding and surviving on my own for the last four months. I didn’t need to be saved anymore. I needed a plan.

     “Keep your head down, Tori, and stay out of the spotlight.” My mind advised.

     Besides, the little encounter with Stryker only proved my point. Pandemonium could not be trusted any more than the others. It was my own affliction that made me covet men like Trench, and their uncanny ability to persuade women like me, that had me second-guessing my own resolve to see this through.

     “Son of a bitch,” I whispered when I saw it. I stopped wiping the table as my eyes zeroed in on the one-hundred-dollar bill tucked beneath the ketchup bottle.

     No way in hell was I going to accept such a large tip. I mean, it was a nice gesture, but I had my reasons. Tips that large usually came at a price. I was probably a terminal pessimist, but from my limited experience at Second Circle, those gratuities were given as reservation for a favor or two. I twisted around for the door, dead set on returning the ridiculously large bill. Our eyes met momentarily in Trench’s side-view mirror and my stomach clenched at the sight of him in that mask. Holy mother of sin!

     My hand pushed against the door handle, but quickly pulled back as dirt and pebbles clanged against the front windows in a shower of tire grit that had Sadie cursing. All I could do was watch as the dust settled, and in its wake, Trench and the members of the Pandemonium MC hit the highway loud and fast.

     I shook my head in frustration. Everything about my jaded past and traitorous body screamed that Trench and his MC were trouble, but my mind refused to be quiet, filling it with thoughts of the promise to my mother. I was living in my own vicious loop of hell if I sought their help.

     “Promise me, sweetheart,” she pleaded on that bed beside me in agony.

     “Okay. I promise, Mom. Duke Hadden. Pandemonium. The Devil is due.”

     “Stop it, Tori,” I chastised myself and when I looked up again, Sadie stood behind the counter, smirking like the cat who just stole the cream. “What?” I asked snottily, grabbed the rag and continued my work clearing tables.

     “I’ve seen that look before, that’s all.”

     “What look?”

     “Infatuation,” she chuckled and the raspy sound from her years of smoking still managed to sooth my overworked imagination. I appreciated her banter, even if half the time she was full of shit. I gave her the stink eye and scrunched my nose as though her statement could not be further from the truth. “Deny, deny, deny, but that was one fine piece of ass in those jeans. Darling, those boys have been coming in here for years and I can’t say I don’t still enjoy the eye-candy. I might be old enough to be their grandmother, but through the Grace of God my eyes still work.”

     “Sadie!”

     “What? At my age, if you ain’t blind, you look sweetie. I don’t touch em’, but I can take em’ with me in my dreams.” She snorted and somehow at the ripe age of twenty-two I felt like the prude in a room full of people more than twice my age. “Forty years ago, I would have been all over that, like honey on a biscuit.”

     “Oh, my God! Will you stop?” I could feel the heat in my cheeks blooming.

     “Don’t listen to her, Tori. You could do better,” Joe grumbled his disagreement for all to hear as crumbs fell from his beard and he grunted in his efforts to finally free himself from the booth.

     “I’m not interested in doing anything,” I argued, hands raised in frustration.

     Sadie motioned to my face and smiled. Damn it. My blush was my vice. It gave me away and ratted me out to the jury. I turned my traitorous face away from their judgmental stares. I was attracted Trench, but I was not going to encourage these two to further humiliate me. It was painfully obvious from Sadie’s declaration that every red-blooded woman, no matter how old, had the same lusty reaction to Trench as I did.

     “Shouldn’t you be leaving now, Joe? I think you’re a bit off schedule.”

     I tried to steer the conversation away from me. His belly shook with quiet laughter as he passed by and slipped a ten-dollar bill in my hand.

     “What the hell is this for?” I glared, sounding ungrateful even to myself.

     Joe never left more than a few dollars on the table. Ever. It seemed his pockets were as tight as his schedule. I should have been praising a lucrative day at the diner, but instead I was starting to feel like a damn charity case. First, Trench. Now, Joe. I cringed at the thought and wondered if my mousy appearance was doing me the kind of favors I didn’t want. So much for dressing plain and trying to stay off people’s radar.  

     “That’s for the entertainment, Tori. Breakfast and a show are worth a few extra bucks and running a little late.”

     Joe paid Sadie at the register and tipped his faded red-rimmed cap on his way out. I plopped onto the nearest barstool, suddenly drained from the rush of anxiety and feeling a bit depressed. Everyone, even drifters, had more going on in life than me. How sad was that? Maybe enough time had passed. I could move on. Buy a bus ticket to anywhere else, U.S.A., or as far as a one-hundred-ten-dollar budget could get me, and start over. Surely, waiting tables in sunny Florida would be as easy as Sparrow Creek, Georgia. Sadly, I would need to get a hell of a lot further than the state directly south of here. The Disciples had too many chapters in outlying areas and they would be looking for me too, but I couldn’t sit around here forever. That was never the plan. Aaron wouldn’t stop looking for me and I was practically cohabitating with him by hiding out in his backyard. I had to be fluid and pray like crazy that Aaron and Preacher hadn’t caught on to my plan.

     “What’s stopping you then,” my subconscious taunted.

     “Why don’t you go ahead and clock out for the day, Tori,” Sadie called out from behind the register and I realized I should have been working. Instead, I stood in the middle of the diner internally debating my next move.

     “Shit. I’m sorry, Sadie. I just needed a second to decompress.”

     “Well, now you got a bunch of them seconds to decompose.” 

     “Decompress, Sadie.” I laughed and corrected. “If I start to decompose, feel free to put me out to pasture.”

     “Whatever you say, darling. There aren’t any buses scheduled to run through town this afternoon and I’d say you already made more tips today than you usually do in a week. So, get. Go home and watch some of those daytime soaps, or whatever it is young people do to relax nowadays. Play on your blueberry device or something. The diner will be here tomorrow and every day after. Heaven help me, I should know.”

     “Seriously, Sadie? A blueberry device?” It was Stevie’s turn to question her from the back, his own laughter echoing through the kitchen. 

     Sadie dismissed his humor with a wave and a scowl.

     “Are you sure, Sadie?”

     A day off would be nice, but I certainly did not want to leave her and Stevie all alone to deal with the lunch crowd. I looked around the room at all the now empty tables. Who was I kidding? There wasn’t going to be a lunch crowd.

     “Wouldn’t have said so otherwise.”

     “Thanks, Sadie! You’re the best.” I ran around the counter and hugged her neck the way I used to hug my mama’s neck when she surprised me with something unexpectedly.

     “Remember you said that when you’re cleaning up after the next youngin’ whose parents only tipped you ten cents and left half the rug rat’s food on the floor,” she yelled after my retreating form.

     At that, I truly laughed. She wasn’t making that shit up. It happened last week on one of the crappiest shifts yet.

     “Okay. It’s a deal,” I hollered back.

     I ran into the employee break room and grabbed my purse before Sadie could change her mind. Not that it mattered. I would stay if she needed me, but truth be told, I didn’t get many days to myself. In fact, I couldn’t remember the last day I wasn’t working. I had one goal since fleeing the Disciple compound and it meant saving up enough money to leave this place behind me and start a better life. At the very least, a safer one. I was prepared to take on a new identity if need be to stay off the Disciples’ radar.

     A couple short blocks from work, the hiss from the bus’s air brakes was a welcome sound. Standing on the sidewalk that ran parallel to the only major road through Sparrow Creek left me exposed and anxious. I waved at the older bus driver as I stepped on, dropped change into the box for my fare, and found the nearest empty seat. I considered myself lucky the town had a bus system at all, especially for those evenings following a ten-hour shift at the diner. The long walk home was unbearable and by the time I made it to my tiny place, my adrenaline high kept me awake most of the night. I wasn’t frightened of the dark, but I was pretty damn scared of the people who came out to play after the sun set.

     I stared at the passing lines on the asphalt and let my head rest against the glass. I counted them as the bus lurched forward and stopped a few more times, noting their significance. I knew exactly how many broken white lines existed between my two stops and if the bus carried me even one further I would have gripped the pull above my head to stop the driver like my life depended on it. Because it did.

     Highway-21 was not the only road in town. It was the main artery that gave Sparrow Creek life. Travelers bustled along this stretch of highway for any number of reasons and it was a routine truck route for many, but I only cared about one fact. Highway-21 connected Sparrow Creek, the town that provided me with a temporary safe-haven, and Calabash, the one I was avoiding at all costs.

     To visitors, or those simply passing through, Sparrow Creek was a speed trap. The reduced speed limits as you entered town resulted in more than a few traffic tickets every month. Hell, it was probably the only real source of viable income for the local police force, which consisted of no more than five officers. Still, Sparrow Creek had something many towns did not. A shared history among the locals and a sense of community. They prided themselves in keeping with older traditions simply because they believed if it wasn’t broken, you didn’t need to fix it, even if they seemed a bit too Mayberry for me at times.

     The night I ran from the Disciples’ compound, I left everything behind, my clothes, my phone, and most of my personal belongings that held sentimental value. Granted, there weren’t many, but they were mine nonetheless. If anything, the last few months had proven the sacrifices were worth it, to keep my life. There were days I missed those few material possessions, things that were irreplaceable, pictures of my mother and I together, or a few of the small porcelain figurines Preacher allowed me to tuck away when he stole me from the comfort and security of my former home. They were all that remained of her, besides the ring I sat twirling on my finger. I imagined Aaron taking his rage out on my tiny shelf of treasures and I cringed. The small corner he deemed to be my personal space in our shared room was probably destroyed by now, the small bits of my former life crushed the same way he had tried to crush my will. I smiled, knowing that was the one thing he truly valued, and the one thing he could never have.  

     The bus came to a slow stop a few minutes later. I stepped off and began the shorter walk to my tiny rented space, trying to rid myself of depressing thoughts. Home was a relative term for me. I kept a room over a garage. It was the only place I could afford and it allowed me anonymity. There were no public records to establish my residency since I paid the landlord in cash every week. It would be a long time before I had anything decent enough to call my own. I could not risk exposure.

     It was Sadie who helped me find this place. She never pried about personal matters when she hired me and I respected her for it. When she hired me to waitress I asked to be paid in cash, sure she would send me packing, but she didn’t even bat an eyelash at my request.

     After the first week of observing her interact with unsavory customers, many of them twice her size, I realized there wasn’t much Sadie probably had not seen in her years at the diner. She always paid on time and during slow weeks, when tips were next to non-existent, there was always a little extra tucked in my envelope on payday. I questioned her calculations only once. An earful from the old woman and I knew better than to push my luck the next time it happened.

     It came as no surprise that my landlord, Bob, was friends with Sadie. Old high school chums or something like that, but the yellow pages had nothing on the woman who knew everyone in town. Bob kept to himself most days, Sadie’s polar-opposite. Where she was spunk and sass, Bob was lazy and a loner. I never heard a peep from him unless I was making dinner or bringing in the paper for him from the driveway. The heaping pile of soggy papers that greeted me upon move-in suggested he hadn’t been to the end of his driveway in months, but since I’d taken to bringing them inside he read every section. His greetings were nothing more than a mumbled hello as he passed by with a cup of coffee and took the next section back to his recliner. We didn’t share meal time together, but I always made two servings and set aside a plate on the kitchen counter, where it miraculously cleaned itself. It worked for us. My meager wages to rent the room over the garage managed to help him out with monthly expenses and his accommodations kept me off the streets. That was as close to a win-win situation as I could ask for at this point.

     There was even a separate entryway into the garage apartment, which allowed me some semblance of privacy. The space was old, but quaint, and even though the faded orange shag carpet and mildew smell were a bit of a sensory overload at times, I was thankful for the cheap cost of living and the quiet street. There were people with far less.

     I moved a little quicker than usual, excited at the full day that lay ahead, my head trying to wrap around what to do. Once inside, I cranked up the small air conditioning unit that hung precariously out the window and kicked off my flats. Despite the crazy events of the morning, I was bored. I thought about seeing a movie at the Cineplex a few blocks over, splurging for a large tub of buttered popcorn and one of those blue raspberry slushies I used to love so much.

     This was what my life had become. I had to plan to be young and carefree. At twenty-two, I was running the figures in my head and the best I could come up with was a cheap date with myself and possibly a new dress since my current wardrobe consisted of nothing more than a single pair of blue jeans, a worn-out pair of cut-off shorts, two tank tops I found at the Goodwill, and of course, my yellow diner uniform. On the plus side I did own several pairs of colorful flip-flops, care of the dollar store around the corner.

     Disappointed with my options, but knowing it would be more important to have another outfit than go to the movies, I grabbed my shorts from atop the milk crate beside the bed and the clean pink tank top that read “I Don’t Sweat, I Sparkle,” and headed to the bathroom. The cool shower was nothing short of heaven as I washed away the smell of diner grease and sweat. I toweled off and dressed quickly, leaving my hair to air dry in the Georgia sun.

     I set to work combing out the tangles and applied a light coat of mascara and lip gloss to my sun-kissed face. It would do. I plucked my cash from the bed and headed out feeling better than I could remember in years.

     Since Bob’s home was conveniently situated in the middle of town and most of the stores were only a few blocks away, I had enough time to enjoy the walk for a change. The old JC Penney’s across the way would have what I needed and experience taught me that they also had the best clearance racks.

     Out of my uniform I felt lighter than before and even more relaxed as I thought about the crisp one-hundred-dollar bill taking residence in my pocket. It was the most money I’d held since being abducted and I had a moment to reconsider spending it on myself. I should put it away. Save it with the rest of my tips, but even I knew it would go towards something less frivolous eventually. Why not enjoy it today?  

     I rounded the street corner towards the highway, my eyes searching the block in either direction before I continued. Since leaving the Disciples compound I realized I finally had something in common with the ruthless bikers. I watched everyone and everything around me. I trusted no one.   

     Heat waves rose from the asphalt like a mirage as cars rushed by me, pushing more warm air in my direction while I watched the bank’s digital advertisement change intermittently to display the current time and scorching high temperature. Ninety-eight degrees Fahrenheit without heat index, which probably accounted for another ten degrees of wet heat this far south.

     I neared the crosswalk to the busiest intersection in town and fear gripped me like a vice. The gleaming row of motorcycles all too familiar in their arrangement. My eyes searched the bodies milling around the front parking lot of Mike’s garage, taking silent inventory of the Pandemonium cuts before I breathed a sigh of relief. No Disciples that I could see. Of course, I would never expect the two clubs to be anywhere in the same zip code. Rival clubs seldom were, unless they had business with one another.

     I couldn’t stop the rush of adrenaline pumping through my veins. They were close. Too close for my comfort. I survived a run-in with the men from Pandemonium at the diner because I felt safe with Sadie, but to chance another meeting here was dangerous. I was exposed and vulnerable to attack. My instincts screamed that I should turn around and run back to the security of my rented space before anyone noticed me. Only two lanes of traffic and a measly crosswalk separated us. Fear had me paralyzed as I fixated on one rider in particular. His neck was partially hidden by the face mask draped around his throat as he leaned against his own ride, but I recognized him immediately. His sexy grin and gorgeous eyes would haunt my dreams in the best way. Trench’s arms were crossed at his chest and one leg was bent at the knee, his boot resting casually against the side of his motorcycle. He was surrounded by the same three men I recognized from his table this morning. Club officers, all of them. I made mental note of their insignia earlier, though I couldn’t recall their names. The man closest to Trench was talking animatedly, hands gesturing with his conversation, and Trench’s head rolled back with laughter.

     The traffic muted the sound of him, but the vision of Trench in such a relaxed state caused a riot of butterflies to take flight in the pit of my stomach. Among the sea of denim and leather, he stood out among the rest, sex personified and a respected leader. Damning qualities for me to be attracted to and yet, I couldn’t stop the unfamiliar draw.

     I prayed the noisy traffic along the highway was enough to avoid being noticed as I waited at the crosswalk. I had a second to wonder if this was my last chance to find Duke before I’d thrown away any last hope. I could do it. Mike’s Garage was seated along the busiest stretch of highway, highly visible if things went south.

     “It’s now or never, Tori.” I closed my eyes and took in a deep breath, steeling myself for the task.

     Sweat, not just from the sun, trickled down between my breasts as I pressed the crosswalk button and readied myself for the moment the light would change from the orange hand that kept me safely on the opposite side of the street, to the stick figure that would force me to make a choice. If I caught their attention before I was ready I would just clam up again. I couldn’t have picked a worse day to wear a bright pink top with silver glitter letters embellished on the front. I might as well have been wearing Christmas lights to a Pagan parade.

     If I hadn’t been so damn carefree and risked the main roads today I wouldn’t be standing here now and I could keep living in ignorant bliss of who Duke Hadden was. I should have taken the backstreets, stuck to my original plan and avoided this route. It was just another warning sign that I was becoming increasingly complacent the longer I stayed in Sparrow Creek, as if Aaron and Preacher would ever stop searching. If I stayed here long enough, someone would eventually recognize me and take the information back to the Disciples. I was hiding one town away for fuck’s sake. How crazy was I?

     The loud horn that blared beside me grabbed my full attention before I could decide. I jumped away from the curb just in time to see the ginger-bearded trucker wink at me. His rig idled at the red light as he leaned against the driver side window to speak.

     “Hey, sweet thang. You need a ride? Wouldn’t want that silky skin to burn.” His lip curled on one side as his eyes took a stroll from my head to toes.

     My nose wrinkled in disgust and I flipped him the bird.  

     “I’m trying, baby doll. Hop in and let Charlie make your dreams come true. It’s nice and cool on my lap.”

     My dreams huh? Was Charlie hiding a new identity and a Boeing-747 in the back of that trailer that could fly me away from everyone who wanted me dead? Not likely. Even worse was the thought of Charlie touching me. My stomach recoiled from the frightening images of being forced into a rig and left beaten and raped in an alley in some unfamiliar town. Defenseless. It was nothing short of the life I had fought so hard to escape and yet seemed destined to suffer, time and time again. The crosswalk beeped it’s warning behind me. Shit! Charlie’s sick distraction just cost me an open window of opportunity to cross the street. Sad to consider my only options had become two sides of the same coin. On one side of the street, I had Charlie’s lewd proposition and a possible kidnapping, and on the other side, was Pandemonium, literally and figuratively. Neither were safe bets and both were now watching me and waiting to see what I would do. When had my life become this nightmare game show? Pick a prize door, Tori. None of them can bring you happiness, but you must choose. 

     The traffic light turned to green, signaling it was time for Charlie to move along, but the relentless bastard kept his truck in neutral and ignored the signal even as the cars behind him honked in protest. An eerie sense of dread settled in the pit of my stomach from his unwanted attention, but I refused to let him get the better of me. Surely, he wouldn’t attempt anything violent in broad daylight. The loud noises and rude gestures from the building traffic behind his rig had garnered plenty of attention from the onlookers in Mike’s parking lot. Their vantage point offered front-row seating to my humiliating encounter.

     “Charlie, was it? How about you go to Hell instead, and while you’re on the way, stop in and give my condolences to your wife, asshole,” I replied, pointing to the gold band that sat so snug on his left hand it threatened to amputate his fat finger. He chuckled.

     “Feisty one, huh? That’s okay with me, sugar. I like it a little rough.”

     “Seriously?”

     Cars sped past him, their drivers screaming obscenities and drawing even more interest in our direction from stopped cars and pedestrians. When I glanced back to Mike’s shop, several pairs of eyes were still trained curiously on me, while another pair of honey-colored eyes tracked closer. Trench. His calming demeanor from this morning was gone, replaced by something far more sinister and intense, as he jogged up and came to stand beside me. When had he crossed the street? Before I could ask, Trench’s hand pressed into my back, slid around my side and squeezed gently as he pulled me towards him.

     “Is there a reason you’re holding up traffic and harassing my girlfriend?” Trench shouted to the trucker.

     Charlie’s eyes went wide, as he took in the leather cut and shook his head. Oh, now Charlie Good-Times had nothing to say?

     “Nah, man. Didn’t know she was your old lady. Sorry.”

     “Then you might want to put that truck in gear and move the fuck along. Find another route that doesn’t come through my town. You’re not welcome. Feel me?”

     Wait, what? His girlfriend? His town?

     “Loud and clear, man.”

     With that, Charlie placed his truck in gear and moved on without another word.

     “You good?” Trench asked for the second time today, his hand slipping away. 

     “Yeah, fine. Just another asshole, but thanks. I seem to be a magnet for trouble today.”

      Trench clutched a hand to his heart as though offended and laughed.

     “Can’t say that I disagree with you and you might not want to hear this right now, babe, but that outfit,” his eyes raked up and down my body, “isn’t helping. Have you ever considered that you’re the danger?”

     “It’s a tank top and shorts, Trench. I’ve seen women wearing far less. Not much more than a bandana.” My cheeks heated at the realization that I’d so readily addressed him by name as if that made us friends or even acquaintances. I pointed to the face mask draped around the base of his throat. “Besides, even if I was, that doesn’t give some sleaze ball the right to proposition me on the street like a damn hooker.”

     “Thanks for that image, babe. If you’re ever interested in a wardrobe change I volunteer mine for personal use.” Trench grinned, using his thumb to pull at the skull bandana lowered around his neck. “And, I didn’t say it was okay for him to act that way. Just meant what you have on isn’t hiding much.” His tongue slipped out to wet his bottom lip and I couldn’t help following its’ path.

     I squeezed my eyes shut and took a deep breath. Being this close to Trench was the real danger here, not my choice in clothing.

     “I was going to look you up, but since we ran into each other again.” His eyes followed the path of my hand curiously as I pulled the one-hundred-dollar bill out of my pocket and attempted to return it. “I appreciate the gesture, but I can’t accept this. It’s too much.”

     “That,” he stilled my hand with his own, “isn’t even close to being enough. I should have given you an extra hundred for putting Stryker in his place this morning. He knows the rules and he broke one.”

     “If I had a dollar for every man I put in his rightful place, I’d be a rich woman by now. Consider it volunteer community service.” I winked. Who was this confident woman talking to Trench and flirting? I don’t believe we’ve been introduced before.

     I folded the bill in half and without a second thought of how I might be invading his personal space, slipped it into the front pocket of his jeans. Hooded eyes trailed my hand, his fingers wrapping around my wrist before I could completely withdraw. He pulled my hand up and stared at the ring for a moment. Did he recognize it? How could he? Duke gave my mother the ring, not Trench. I was going to make myself sick over this shit.

     “I’m sure you would.”

     His voice was thicker now and I shivered despite the heat outside. It was Trench. The mere sound of his voice triggered some unnamed emotion inside me. He lowered my hand, but never released it.

     “Where you headed? I could give you a lift.” The corner of his sexy mouth curved up slightly. “Save your pretty ass another run-in with the non-locals. My brother is waiting on a part. Mike says it could be a while before his guy gets back with it.”

     “Um…you want to give me a lift? On that?” I pointed to the group of motorcycles across the street, my heartbeat racing against my ribcage like a caged beast.

     He moved behind me, reaching over my shoulder and using his free hand to guide my pointer finger to the right. His mouth grazed over the shell of my ear and I felt the warmth of his breath on my cheek.

     “My ride is the one on the end, beautiful. Didn’t see me driving around on anything else, did you?”

     “Right. Well, I’m not a big fan of motorcycles and the store is only a few blocks away. I think I can manage to make it unchaperoned, but thanks for the offer.”

     Besides, my plans had changed a bit now that the money had been rightfully returned, but he didn’t need to know that.

     “Come on. You’ll be doing me a favor. I don’t feel like hanging around the garage all afternoon anyway. Humor me.”

     Like a lust-sick fool I wanted to follow him. The abuse from Aaron was never my fault. I had never asked for that life, had never been given an out, but going with Trench would be my choice and I was not so sure I trusted my judgement where he was concerned. He had no idea how much bikes scared me, dredging up painful memories of the last time I was on one. Trench’s hand around my wrist pulled me forward and towards the street. He glanced back for a second and stared at the place where our skin met. His hand felt like a live wire giving me a new energy that had been hidden for years.

     What would it hurt? At least I wouldn’t have to worry about the truck driver turning around, not that I truly believed he had the balls to ignore Trench’s warning. I could still window shop and then walk back home. Right? Besides, I reasoned with myself, I would never forgive myself for blowing another chance to find Duke.    

     “What would it hurt,” I asked myself again.

     “Only everything,” my mind replied in warning, but it was already too late.