Tex ran his hand along Jessie's back as she heaved again. She didn't flinch away from his touch; that was reassuring. He wanted to be a comfort to her—ironic, given the horrible things he'd been telling her for the past hour—in whatever way he could be.

 

When the heaving stopped, she stayed hunched over, her arms wrapped tightly around her midsection. She looked so much like the gawky girl he'd last seen that his heart tore apart. When he'd seen her in the salon, and when she'd gotten out of that car, she'd looked so practical and polished that he'd wondered if there was anything left of the friend he'd grown up with, or if Danny's death had taken all of that away from her, too. He was glad to see something of the old her; he hated the way it had been revealed.

 

"What do you need?" He pitched his voice low and careful, the same tone he'd use with a frightened animal.

 

"My brother back," she said, without hesitation and without looking up at him. "For all of this not to be true. How sure are you?"

 

"Call it ninety percent," he said. "The witnesses I have to the different connecting pieces—let's say that I believe them, but no defense attorney would even let them make it to the stand. If we get revenge on this guy—if I do—it'll happen outside the law."

 

"So what's stopping you?" That core of ice cold fear and anger inside of her frightened him and made him proud. She had experienced tragedy in her life, and she'd used it to harden her edges without giving up the part of her that loved. That was impressive; he knew plenty of people who weren't able to make that kind of compromise in their lives.

 

"I know I look like a complete badass," he said, and when the edges of her mouth tilted up a bit, he allowed himself to grin. "But I don't want to send an innocent man to his death, especially because I don't want to let the real killer go free. And there's more going on here than just this one guy. I don't know how it all ties together yet, and if I move too fast, then I risk wasting all our energy on the wrong target. I need to be more sure than ninety."

 

"What do you want from me?" He must have been wearing an entertaining expression, because when she glanced up at him, she barked out a quick laugh at whatever look was on his face. "I mean, aside from the obvious. I'm a great lay these days, but I don't think I warrant you relocating your entire—group—up to Castello just so you can get in my pants."

 

It was self-deprecating humor at its finest, and it cut him to the core. He could see in her eyes how fast she'd had to grow up after Danny died. She'd been a kid, barely a teenager, and really it wasn't like he was so much more worldly, but his parents had at least been relatively solid through the whole nightmare. Her mother must have been torn apart by grief. What resources would she have found to give her struggling daughter? What had Jessie been through in the past few years that had colored what she thought of men, of love, of sex, and made her so willing to call herself both unlucky at love and a great lay?

 

"First of all," he said, "You're worth that and more. But more importantly, I don't want any more from you than you're willing to give."

 

Her eyebrows went up. "So if I climbed into your lap and wrapped my arms around your neck right now, you'd say no?"

 

The rasp in her voice put his cock back at attention. She was going to destroy his control, and he needed it more than ever. "If I thought you were insincere with your desire, yes. If I thought you were just using sex as currency to get me to help get revenge, yes. If I thought you were just trying to distract yourself from the pain?" He let himself shift, let her see him adjust, yet again, to make himself a little more comfortable. "We would need to have a conversation."

 

"But you wouldn't say no?"

 

He swallowed hard, trying to keep his eyes from laser-locking onto her nipples, hard as diamonds and making shadows on her t-shirt. "Not necessarily."

 

"Because we're sitting here, and we're talking about death and destruction and innocence and guilt, and all I keep thinking about is what would have happened in the yard, fifteen years ago, if that fucking motorcycle hadn't hit my brother."

 

"I don't know," Tex said. His throat was dry. She was not being anywhere near as reserved with where her eyes were wandering.

 

"Liar," she said, and he swallowed harder. She had kept her legs so demurely crossed the whole time she'd been sitting, and now she spread her thighs a little, easing her ass closer to the edge of the couch. If she were naked, it would be nothing to go down to his knees at her feet and slide his hands under her sweet ass, lifting her pussy to his mouth. Would she scream when he devoured her, or would she be one of those women who were full of breathy moans and soundless screams? Which would it be?

 

"Am I?"

 

"Your hands were a breath away from cupping what little tits I had. Would you have been brave enough to flick my nipples? I remember they were hard. I remember I didn't know they did that until you kissed me."

 

Her hand was light on her belly. Was she imagining touching herself? He wanted to know so very badly. Would she circle her clit first, or just plunge her fingers deep inside her body? Would she let him play with her ass? Would that make her come for him?

 

"I wanted to," he said, giving in. He mirrored her hand, resting it lightly over where his cock laid, rock hard and desperate for her again. "But I was terrified. You were the first girl I'd kissed, really, and it felt like my body was on fire, but at the same time, I was -" he choked off the words.

 

"Say it," she said. Her hand ran up her torso and flicked at her nipples, her gaze locked on him. He couldn't stop the little sound that came out of his throat. He didn't really try to.

 

"I thought Danny would kill me. For kissing you. But I didn't care. I wanted you so much. I loved you so much."

 

She stood up then, swaying with the power that a person had over someone who wanted them as much as he wanted her. She extended a hand to him, and he took it. It was like grabbing a live wire; electric need surged through him, and he forgot everything he was supposed to be worried about. All he could see was Jessie. Jessie watching him, Jessie smiling down at him, Jessie's pupils dilated wide with need. "Good," she said. "Take me somewhere you can fuck me. I assume you have condoms?"

 

"Jesus Christ, Li."

 

She smiled at the old nickname. "What, too forward for you?"

 

"No, it's hot as all fucking hell. Are you sure? Are you really sure? I don't know where you are emotionally, but this—this means a lot to me."

 

She went up on her tiptoes to kiss him, and he shushed like a good boy. "Me too," she said. "I don't know what happens next, but I know if you don't fuck me now, I'm going to spend the next forever wearing out the batteries on my vibrator, like I did last night, and having a million orgasms that aren't good enough. So. Will it be this couch? Up against the wall? Will that table hold up? We can do it on the floor if you want."

 

"I have an actual bed."

 

"No." The fierceness with which she shook her head surprised him a little. "If we have a second time, you can take me to bed. Right now, I want to fuck."

 

His cock was weeping with his need for her. He had to get himself back under control, or he was going to blow like a kid seeing his first nudie pic. "Come with me," he said. He reached out a hand to her, and she took it after a bare moment of hesitation.

 

There were a lot of snickers and hidden smiles as he led her through the yard, but if she noticed, she didn't seem to care. She didn't balk until they got to the barn door, and he threw open the sliding door. Her hand spasmed in his; he got the idea she would have dropped it, if she could have. "No," she whispered.

 

"That's fine," he said, carefully stepping in front of her, interrupting her sight of the rows of shiny motorcycles. "If you want to go, Jessie, you can. I won't think less of you. But if you want me—I'm not the little boy I was fifteen years ago. This is who I am now. If you want me—even once—then this is who you want. And you can't lie to yourself about that." He took a moment. "At least, not here. Not now. You want me to take you somewhere? This is how we're getting there."

 

She glanced around herself. She probably thought it was subtle, and that no one noticed her checked out the surroundings to see if everyone was staring. She would have been wrong. He bit down on the inside of his lower lip so he wouldn't smile.

 

"I've-" her voice squeaked, and she swallowed. "I've never been on one."

 

"Just a big old vibrator between your thighs," he said, and watched that gorgeous flush climb her neck. "You hold tight to me, and everything will be just fine."

 

Had he ever wanted a woman this much? He had hardly kept records on that sort of thing, but he was pretty sure the answer was no.

 

"Okay," she said. She was twisted up with fear but—God, it was cruel to even think it—but she needed to be, right now. She couldn't go into this with some romantic idea of what revenge would look like. This was going to be bloody work. Before the end of it, there'd be bodies to bury in the desert. If he were incredibly lucky, his wouldn't be among them. If she were going to be the partner to him that she said she wanted to be, she'd have to start now. "Okay. Fine. I can do this." She might not have realized that she spoke those last few words out loud. Her eyes were distant, her gaze focused on something else. He didn't have to guess at what it was; he still saw Danny's broken body in his nightmares.

 

He walked her over to his bike, a big Harley with plenty of room and plenty of heart. He handed her a helmet, helped her get it adjusted, and then put his own on. He mounted up, then helped her get settled behind him. He pulled her hands around his waist, snugging her up tight against his back. "The biggest thing," he said, before he started up the bike, his voice pitched low so she could hear him, but no one else would. "The biggest thing to pay attention to is moving with me. No farther than I do, but with me. Like we're dancing. Think you can handle that?"

 

One of her hands unlocked from its death grip around his waist and moved lower, palming his cock through his jeans. He had to fight back the urge to press her into the wall of the barn and have her right here. It wouldn't be the first time it had happened, and other than a few more pictures of his bare ass making the internet, it would be a non-event in the club's history.

 

But that wasn't how this story was going to end. Or begin. Or whatever the hell it was they were doing now. He couldn't help but buck up into her hand, though, letting her feel how unbelievably hard he still was. "I can handle anything you can throw at me," she said, and goddamn if he didn't believe her.

 

He twisted the ignition on the bike, guided it gently out of the barn on neutral, bracing with his feet. He checked that she was clear, and she'd found the pegs, then put it into gear and opened the throttle.

 

There was nothing like the motion of a bike on the open road. He'd first stepped onto a machine much like this one when he was still trying to heal from Danny's death and understand the world that had torn his world apart so completely. He'd come to the conclusion by then, after a few pointed inquiries, that it was very unlikely that one solitary biker had ridden into a podunk resort town and just happened to hit a kid in the street, then carried on down the road like nothing had happened. Tex remembered clearly seeing the man's leather vest, and knew there had been colors on the back, but he'd never seen them clearly enough to explain them to anyone. The cops had been so busy calling the whole thing a "tragic accident" that his attempt to talk about what had happened was treated as irrelevant; from his conversations with Eddie later, he'd found that no one had even written down his attempt to identify the man who'd run Danny down.

 

The first time he'd mounted a motorcycle, he'd been sick. He understood Jessie's reaction better than she might think. But when he'd gotten the hang of keeping the bike balanced in the road, when he'd been able to take over the highways and get anywhere he wanted to go—shit, he'd never wanted to go back.

 

Every other method of truly fast motion that humankind had mastered required a cage. Cars, trains, airplanes. All of them had safety structures and antilock brakes and power steering, and a million other things that made motion safer. Hell, these days, cars could stop for you. Driving you around on their own was probably next. And he loved those things. They made cars safe, planes safe, made people safer. He wanted that. For them.

 

He didn't want to be safe. He wanted to be on the open road, wind slapping at his face and arms, completely in control of the small bubble of the world around him. Because that was the truth of the motorcycle. If you didn't respect it, the bike would dump you on the road, and you'd be finished, just a greasy smear of skin and offal for the buzzards to enjoy. He had to be in control here. There was no time for wishing he'd done things differently, or been a better man, or made different choices. There was no time for his cock, desperately insisting that this was far enough, they'd had enough fun, and couldn't they get to the fucking now?

 

She was clinging to him like a burr, and he could feel her chest heaving. Crying, gasping, he wasn't sure. It would be purging; he knew that from experience. She could feel the road getting inside of her, claiming her. She'd like it or she wouldn't, and either way, he'd know something about her. And that was good. He needed to know more about her before he trusted her with the rest of his secrets. So many goddamn secrets.

 

They drove through the winding mountain roads along the coast. He took the turns slower than he would have if he was alone, and after the first awkward one, she moved with him like a champ. Like this was in her bones just as much as it was his.

 

Most people would have missed the turn he took. He slowed way down; the bike didn't go well on sand, and that was okay, but he had to be careful, especially with Jessie not really knowing how to move with the machine yet. He guided them through a few scrub trees and around a hill, and then cut the throttle and twisted off the ignition. They had reached their destination.

 

He sat on the bike for a moment in silence, and it took some time for Jessie to speak. "What is this?" Her voice was too quiet, too soft.

 

"Do you remember how Danny and I used to go camping?"

 

"Of course."

 

"This was one of our favorite spots. When I—after I got back from Afghanistan, one of the things I did was to buy this bit of land and build a cabin." He was quiet for a minute. "I can pretend I built it myself, if that would impress you."

 

"Did you? Build it yourself?"

 

"Absolutely not. I'm good at lots of things, but making roofs that don't fall down is not within my skillset."

 

She was awkward as she dismounted, but she didn't tip the bike over; that was a lot. He followed her, setting down the kickstand and making sure the bike was secure before he stepped away. He took her helmet and set it next to his.

 

Her cheeks were flushed dark, and her eyes were sparkling. He saw tracks of tears on her cheeks, but he also saw the tips of her breasts standing in tight peaks that all but begged for him to devour them. "You weren't kidding about it being a giant vibrator."

 

"Get you a little heated up, did it?"

 

She laughed, tossing her head back, and her throat was a sight to be seen. "As if you weren't doing just fine on your own. Introducing that kind of—of mechanical assistance was just unnecessary."

 

He stepped in closer, gauging her interest as he slipped a hand around her waist. "Did you come on my bike, Jessie?"

 

She looked away for a moment before meeting his gaze and flashing that smile again. "No, but it was a close thing. I kept worrying about what would happen to us if I was thrashing around."

 

"Do you thrash around when you come?"

 

"Usually."

 

"And scream?"

 

"No, actually." She stepped into him this time, melting her body against his and wrapping her arms around his neck. "I'm really loud leading up to it, swearing and cursing, but for the big moment, I tend to go totally fucking silent." She bit her lip, and he thought he might die. "Want to see?"

 

How any person interested in women could say no to that invitation, he wasn't entirely sure. "Yup." He stepped away from her but took her hand, leading her up the three wooden steps onto the cabin's porch. He unlocked the door, and went inside.

 

The cabin was pretty rustic. Two rooms, a chemical toilet, no electricity. No real furniture; without someone here to keep an eye on it, it would just get stolen or mildewy anyway. But there was a bedroll and she'd said she was fine with up against a wall. He was sure they could make something work.

 

But instead of leaping for her, he dragged the bedroll out to the small porch and laid it out there. Jessie followed him, and when he plopped down on the bedding, then patted a spot next to himself, she sat down.

 

"How did you like that?" he asked. "I mean, besides it making you all hot and bothered?"

 

"It felt like a betrayal and a funeral but also like shutting a door and opening a window." She stared out at the water. Was it still like it was when they were kids, where the townies hardly bothered with the beach, or did she go there now, letting the rhythm of the waves wash over her and make her whole? "I don't want to talk about my brother anymore."

 

"I need to," he said. "For just a minute. Because he's connected to something much bigger."

 

"Danny has been dead for fifteen years," she said, her tone harsh and cold for the first time. "Apart from you, me, and my mother, no one cares at all."

 

"There's more to it than that," he said, but she made a disgruntled sound, and faster than he thought a person could move, she was straddling him, her thighs pressing into his dick, and her jeans were soaked in the crotch.

 

"I thought I told you to fuck me," she said. "Are you always this bad at taking direction?"

 

"No, ma'am," he said, and claimed her mouth with his.