They lay together for what felt like hours, staring at the hard concrete of the overpass, basking in the glow of their now shared connection. Natasha’s heart was still racing, and she almost felt weak, but being in his arms was enough to make her feel safe. She had never done something like that before, throw herself at a guy she had barely met, and yet it felt so incredibly right in that moment. He was next to her now, breathing slowly, as though finally calm, and she propped herself up on one arm to watch his face.

 

He looked so peaceful at rest, and she wondered if he looked like this all the time. She knew that she should feel scandalized at the fact that she had just had sex with him under an overpass, but as she watched the deep rise and fall of his chest, she realized that she didn’t care.

 

Griffin cracked one eye open and smiled in a slow and sleepy way, which made desire once again dawn in Natasha’s lower belly. Noticing her scrutiny, he reached up and pulled her down, drawing her close to his chest. It was a little more than lust Natasha felt as they lay together, his face buried in her hair, his arms wrapped around her so tightly, but all Natasha could really feel about it was nervous.

 

“I suppose this is the time where you say something like, ‘Oh, I’ve never done this before,’” Natasha said, staring at the concrete above their heads and giving a bit of a smile. Griffin lowered his head to kiss her shoulder, his lips still curved into an amused grin.

 

“Well, it’s not every day I meet a girl who can ride like she was born on a bike.”

 

Natasha laughed. “Thank you, my father taught me.”

 

Immediately, her insides froze up. What did I just do? she thought.

 

Griffin lifted his head a little bit to get a better look at her face, his eyes narrowed in confusion at her admission and the way her muscles had frozen in panic once she realized what she had said.

 

Griffin studied her face and noted the panic, and as strange as it was, something began dawning on him that he must have simply been too blind to see before. Natasha’s eyes plead with him not to say it, not to say what they both knew was the truth, but the more hopeful she was about his silence the closer he came to understanding.

 

Griffin could feel his stomach drop in his chest, his mind already thinking back to the conversation he had originally with Damon, asking about Emanuel’s family. Damon had been vague, but someone could have shown up. He remembered the picture of a blonde little girl that Emanuel had, he looked at Natasha, who looked back at him, her amber eyes nervous.

 

“Everything okay?’ she asked, although she knew that it wasn’t, especially not if he figured it out.

 

“You’re Emanuel’s daughter, aren’t you?”

 

When he saw her face fall, he knew that it was the truth. Natasha folded one of her arms across her bare breasts, searching for her discarded shirt. She grabbed the soft, dark fabric and slipped it on over her head. In spite of everything that happened, she still felt incredibly exposed under Griffin’s searching gaze.

 

Natasha was silent for a long time, her mouth working around her own response, fully aware that once she finally owned up to it, everything was going to have to change. Griffin gave her the time to think, but at the same time, he desperately wanted her to say something, anything, that would confirm what he already knew.

 

He didn’t want it to be true, not because of the implications that came with the fact that he had slept with his former mentor’s daughter, but the fact that if she did say it, if she finally said it, everything would have to be different.

 

“Yes,” she said. Her voice was so quiet that he could barely hear her under the patter of the rain. She lowered her head, the still wet and clumped together strands of blonde hair falling over her face. Griffin reached over and brushed them out of the way so that he could see her better. After a moment, she looked up at him again, and he could feel the weight of everything shift into far more dangerous, and yet something far more exciting.

 

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

 

She laughed a little bit. “I wasn’t sure who knew; I’m sure that people knew he had a family, but I also knew that his family, well, his real family, was with the Disciples.”

 

The quality of the light was beginning to change, slouching off towards sunset in that strange way that happens when there is no sun to see. Griffin could hear the rain beginning to let up, and he was thankful for that. As exposed as they were, he knew that it was better to get her back to her hotel for the night, which was much safer than the overpass could ever hope to be. He couldn’t ignore the sadness in her words—although he couldn’t understand it.

 

“Of course we’re family,” he told her gently. “But most of us still keep the family we have.”

 

“Did you?” she asked, her words slightly more forceful, putting all the weight of her years of abandonment behind them. Griffin drew back a little, knowing that he was operating a particularly dangerous minefield.

 

“I didn’t have a family,” he replied. “But you still do.”

 

Natasha snorted, not really wanting to hear the post-coital promises that she knew would never be kept, and she rooted around for her underwear and slipped them back on, not willing to put on her damp jeans just yet. Griffin dressed too, more out of practicality than want. If someone were to ambush him at this very moment, he knew that it would be smarter to be prepared instead of literally naked.

 

“Yeah, right,” she replied.

 

“No, you don’t understand,” Griffin replied. “You’re in this now; you’re part of the Disciples whether you like it or not. Do you really think that the Los Diablos are going to care that you don’t want anything to do with us? You’re Emanuel’s daughter, and they just killed Emanuel, and now it looks like they’re after you, too.”

 

Natasha flinched at the mention of Emanuel’s death. So it had been murder, she thought. She knew that it was more likely than anything else, especially after the events of the past day, but the idea of having it confirmed just made her feel sad all over again. What had Emanuel done to get in the crosshairs? Did it matter? Natasha herself hadn’t done a thing, and yet they were after her, too. The entire thing was too overwhelming; she rubbed at her eyes in exhaustion.

 

“I’m not like any of you,” she said forcefully. “I’m not part of this; my father had a job and that was it. Now he’s gone, and I have to move on.”

 

“I’m sorry, babe, but you’re not going to be able to move on,” Griffin said. He stood and moved to look at the weather, hoping that no one would come soon. “You’re a part of us now, and you need to understand that.”

 

Natasha finally put her jeans back on, the wet cloth sliding over her legs in the most unpleasant manner possible. She still felt tender from the urgency of the sex they had, and she relished the feeling before stepping back into reality.

 

“And what would that mean?” she asked, her voice quiet and calm.

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“If I’m part of this, one hundred percent, what does that mean?”

 

Griffin looked at her, as though he couldn’t comprehend what she meant. “It means that you’re in the Disciples; you ride with us; you ride with me.”

 

Natasha grimaced in the cold brought on by the rapidly setting sun, and Griffin judged the rain as it fell lighter and lighter. They would be able to move on soon, but Griffin didn’t know if he should move on before he got her answer.

 

“Let me think about it,” she replied.

 

“There isn’t much to think about,” he shot back. “You’re in this or you’re dead. They’re ruthless.”

 

She nodded her head, knowing that full well. Griffin wheeled his bike over and handed her the helmet. She didn’t want to put it on; she wanted to feel the wind through her hair, the feeling of freedom all over again. However, she also just wanted to go back to the room and take a very long hot shower.

 

At this point, she wouldn’t have even minded if Griffin joined her.

 

They got back on the bike, and Griffin revved the engine, bringing them back into the rapidly darkening night. Natasha closed her eyes and rested against Griffin’s chest, feeling the closeness of him, remembering the time they had shared underneath the overpass. In spite of everything else, she knew that the look on his face as she rode him was going to be one that stuck with her for a long time.