Sometimes knowledge sucks, like now, when all I want is to enjoy the ride but images of gurneys with limp bodies being rushed into the ER after motorcycle-car accidents play in my head. As we weave through traffic, I melt into Trick’s body allowing a small and irrational part of myself to feel safe. Surrendering to my vulnerability, I let him control my fate.

Trick pulls up along the street by Cantina Laredo. After removing his helmet, he takes mine off and I finger through my hair.

“What?” I question because of his signature stoic expression. “I know, I am a mess with my helmet hair and naked face.”

His hands slide up my neck and into my hair, pulling me to him. “You’re a beautiful mess.” He brushes his lips against mine; it’s a mere whisper of a kiss from the docile side of Trick Roth that must have been gagged and tied up by the dominant ego that had his way with me just hours earlier.

On the outside he’s a deep canyon with jagged edges, but I’ve just started to get a glimpse of what most people don’t see past the surface … and it’s stunning.

“Come.” He grabs my hand and leads me to the restaurant.

“You could say please.” I double the speed of my steps to keep up.

“You could say no.” He opens the door and like the true gentleman I don’t think he really is, he lets me enter first.

“What would you do if I said no?”

“Get a table by the window, order an appetizer, and watch you stand on the sidewalk basking in your independence.”

We’re seated by a window, ironically. “Someone sure did a number on you.” I shake my head.

“Sorry.” He looks over the menu. “I’m in uncharted territory with you. Thank you for accompanying me into the restaurant.” His sly smile steals all sincerity from his words.

Screw it. Trick will be my unsolvable puzzle, and I’ve just decided I wouldn’t want it any other way. He’s a take-me-as-I-am-I-don’t-give-a-shit guy, stopping on the confidence scale a hair shy of arrogant—aka make-you-beg-for-it sexy. I’ve met my match. It’s possible I’m actually way out of my league. No worries, I shall rise to the challenge.

“You’re welcome.” I roll back my shoulders and smile with confidence, looking at my menu. “Thank you for the mind-blowing orgasm in the supply closet.”

“Ah-hem.” Our waitress clears her throat.

Great, how’d I miss her sneaking up on us? I retain my cool smile in spite of the hot flash of embarrassment that races along my skin. Trick doesn’t flinch, with the exception of his lip twitch. Cocky bastard! I’m sure he’s thinking, “That’s right … I’m just that good.” I’m sure she’s thinking, “Could you demonstrate on me?” Her skin matches mine, so that’s exactly what she’s thinking.

“It was my pleasure.” He smirks, staring at his menu.

Oh hell! Kill me now!

I cannot believe he just said that in front of her.

“We’ll have the Top Shelf Guacamole, Camarones Escondidos, and Pescado Del Día. Thank you.” I grab Trick’s menu and shove it along with mine at our unsuspecting and completely flustered waitress.

She stumbles off. I’ll be amazed if she remembers our order.

“You ordered for me?” He leans forward with wide-eyed disbelief.

“Well, she wanted to take our order, but you were too busy flaunting your afternoon conquest so I ordered for the both of us.”

He leans back with a wry grin. “I was simply being polite and engaging in the conversation you started.”

“What happened to your face?”

“So we’re done talking about—”

“Yes, we are.” I sip my water. “Why did Grady beat the shit out of you?”

Trick smirks, staring at his silverware he’s adjusting. “It was a misunderstanding.”

“About?”

“He found something.” His eyes look up to meet mine, as if he’s daring me to go any further.

Drumming my fingers on the table, I sigh. “What did he find?”

His gaze falters in chagrin. “A couple grams of coke under a Buddha statue of mine.”

Don’t react. Don’t react. Don’t react. Oh shit, he’s still doing drugs!

“And?” I question in a neutral voice with just a hint of nervous tremble.

“And what?” He shrugs.

I could scream; he’s baiting me, waiting for my reaction as if there’s a right one versus a wrong one. I’m too old to play games, and I’m too young to get involved in this messed up shit. “And nothing, Trick. If you’re using again and want help, I’ll help you. If you don’t want help then I’m out of here. If you have an explanation outside of those two scenarios then now would be the right time to share it. If this is some test of my trust for you, then here’s the deal: I’ll trust you until you give me a reason not to.”

His head moves; it’s slight but I see him nod. “I’ve had it since I stopped going to NA. It’s just a reminder.” His lips twist into a smirk and then he lets out a small laugh. “I’ve had it for eight years and have never once been tempted to use it.”

“So Grady thought you were going to use it?”

He points to his now yellowish-brown bruises on his face. “I think the answer to that is yes.”

“Why didn’t you just tell him that you’ve had it all this time?”

“He knows.”

I lean forward, resting my arms on the table. “Then why did he think you were going to use it?”

He averts his eyes, scanning the restaurant as if he’s looking for the answer. “Because I had the bag on the counter just … staring at it when he came home.”

A pang of guilt mixed with pain hits me. “When?”

“When what?”

“When did this happen?”

“The morning after the party.” His eyes make a slow shift to mine.

I suck in my lips to contain the anger. “You mean the morning after we had sex for the first time—the morning you left me.” I laugh, closing my eyes for a brief moment. “Unbelievable. You considered reverting back to a life-threatening addiction after one night with me. God! That makes me feel …” I shrug my shoulders and blink back the tears.

“Special.” He reaches across the table, taking both of my hands.

“Yeah, Trick. That’s some real special stuff!”

“I was getting rid of it.”

I try to pull away. “Sure, up your fucking nose because of your aversion to women.”

He grips me tighter, not caring if anyone around us is watching. “No!” He grits his teeth. “Because I no longer need a reminder of where I’ve been … I have you to remind me of where I’m going, and when I’m with you I don’t ever want to look back.”

I glare at him, feeling overwhelmed by his confession and still a little pissed off about something. “Then why did you let him make such a mess of your face?”

Trick releases my hands and sits back with an indifferent grin smeared across his face. “I felt like shit for the lie I let you believe and for leaving you that morning while I sorted myself out. So I figured I deserved it, even if not for the drugs.”

Our waitress brings our food; kudos to her, everything’s right. I place my napkin on my lap and look at Trick with my face scrunched in disbelief. “That’s so messed up. You should have told him.”

Trick cuts into his food. “No need to make him feel bad.”

We eat our dinner, exchanging very few words. My mind reels trying to process Trick’s feelings for me and his unusual sense of self-worth. One minute he’s emotionally closed off as if he’s protecting himself, and the next he’s letting Grady beat the crap out of him because he feels deserving of it. There’s such an ambiguity about his actions that leaves me feeling perplexed.

I let Trick secure my helmet to his liking, and his admiring eyes don’t go unnoticed by me. “You like the jacket, don’t you?”

“Yes.” He grazes his teeth along his bottom lip. “Leather pants would send the package over the edge.” He gets on then I hop on the back, eager to wrap my arms around him.

“So that’s what I am to you? A package.”

He reaches around cupping my ass and scoots me closer. “You’re the package.”

The engine roars to life; he revs it a few times before we shoot off into the busy stream of traffic.

Nana is going to lose her teeth with grin-baring excitement when she finds out about me and Trick. And when I tell her that I have my own leather riding jacket and helmet it’ll probably send her to her grave. Not that she’ll worry, just the opposite. She’s been telling me my whole life to live it up, take a chance, and fall for a guy that would make my father shudder with disapproval. Done. Done. And SO. VERY. DONE!

We pull into his garage, if you can call it that. The lower level of this warehouse has to be fairly large, but it’s always too dark for me to see beyond his bike and a few other covered things which I know have to be warmer, safer automobiles.

“Wait!” I call as the door starts to go down. “I can’t stay. I have to work tomorrow.”

He pulls off my helmet and sets it on the shelf next to his, then unzips my jacket. When he looks at me with the dark intensity that is only Trick, my breath quickens as a jolt of anticipation zips through me in anticipation of his touch.

“I need my Darby fix first.” He slides my jacket off and drapes it over the seat of his motorcycle. That voice is so damn sexy, I swear he could talk me to an orgasm without ever touching me. His hands slide into my hair, fisting it, and bringing me closer until his lips find my neck.

“Trick—”

“Darby,” he whispers, sucking my earlobe into his mouth.

“I thought you got your Darby fix in the supply closet earlier.” My breathy voice makes a weak protest.

Brushing his stubble along my jaw, he seduces me with a feathery touch that elicits a gripping wave of shivers. His lips, pulled into a grin, brush against mine; he knows exactly what he does to me. “I hadn’t seen you in two days … touched you in two days … and so I had to devour you. But now…” his tongue teases my upper lip “…I want to savor you.”

“But Grady and Tamsen—”

“Won’t be back for hours … if at all tonight.”

Any attempt to deny him would be futile and all in my head—like right now. My thoughts hold strong to my early morning job responsibility; but my hands have already unfastened his jeans, guaranteeing his bike will not be the last thing I ride tonight. I’m such a sex fiend with him.

The supply closet was lust, sex … a raw need. This—this is love. Trick loves me like it’s his sole purpose in life, and being on the receiving end of such a serendipitous love is … life-changing bliss.

“I have to go,” I whisper into his neck.

Trick makes a slight noise, but I’m not sure he’s awake so I ease off his arm and slide out of our tangled mess of sheets. My God, he’s beautiful. I don’t know what this is … what we are, but it’s unexpected—a gift. The light fluttering in my chest and the tingling that buzzes along the surface of my skin from his nearness stirring all my nerve endings, it’s life. When I’m with Trick I feel everything … I feel completely alive.

I sigh with a pouty frown and get dressed without waking him. It’s a little after midnight by the time I get on the elevator. Unfortunately it’s a noisy beast, so I’m sure my descent wakes him; but he knows I can’t stay so hopefully he’ll fall right back to sleep with the same satisfied smile I’m still wearing. As I round the corner of his building, I hear voices. Two guys stand by my car, puffing their cigarettes.

Shit!

I unlock my car, hoping the beeping noise will convince them to step aside. No such luck, instead they’re now watching my approach. It’s time to make a decision: continue to my car with confidence showing no fear or retreat back to Trick’s and hope they don’t follow me.

“Excuse me, gentlemen,” I say with a polite smile as I approach my driver’s door which they’re blocking. I leave my thumb hovering over the panic button on my key fob. In this part of town it won’t draw that much attention, but it might get Trick’s if he did in fact wake as I was leaving.

“This your car, Red?” The younger black kid says as the older white guy, maybe my age, smirks like he’s letting his protégé handle me.

“It is. Excuse me please.”

“What’s a fine thing like you doing in these parts so late?”

Just as I turn to go back to Trick’s, the younger kid grabs my arm knocking my key fob from my hand. My blood runs cold.

“Where you going, Red?”

I try to wriggle out, but he grabs my other arm too.

“Darren … uh, let’s go.” The other guy starts to step away from my car.

“Go is right. I’m going to have a go here at this fine piece of ass.”

I grit my teeth. “Get your fucking hands off me!”

“Darren! I’m serious, man, let’s get out of here. Just let her go.”

“Who the fuck are you?” Darren grips me tighter as he looks over my shoulder.

“I’m the Grim Reaper if you don’t do as the lady asks and take your fucking hands off her.”

“Trick!” I scream at the sound of his voice behind me.

Darren pulls me into his body, hugging me tight, and that’s when I feel the sharp tip of a knife at my back. “What are you gonna do? Shoot me before I cut her?”

I squirm to try and see Trick behind me, but the knife presses harder against me. What the hell is Darren talking about? Does Trick have a gun?

“What if you miss?” Darren’s face contorts into an ugly smug grin.

“I never miss.”

What. The. Fuck?

Darren keeps looking over at his friend.

“Let her go, now!”

Darren relaxes his grip on me and holds up his hands, the knife still in his right one, like he’s surrendering.

“Trick!” I cry as I turn and run to him.

He places one hand on the back of my head and kisses the top of it while his other hand keeps the gun pointed at Darren. “Stay right here,” he whispers to me.

I let him go and hug my arms around myself as he takes slow calculated steps toward Darren. “If I see you around here again, it’ll be the last time you’re ever seen.”

I gasp a jerky breath, covering my mouth with my hand as Trick pistol whips Darren, knocking him to the ground and completely out. In spite of Darren having just threatened me two seconds ago, my instinct is to run and assess his injuries, call for an ambulance, piece him back together.

“Don’t.” Trick grabs my arm, pulling me away from Darren as Darren’s friend drags him to the sidewalk and hoists him over his shoulder. “Are you okay?” He slips the gun into the back waistband of his jeans. “Are you okay?” he repeats, framing my face in his hands.

I nod with slow confusion.

“What were you thinking? Why did you leave?” His words carry a sharp edge.

“I-I have to work early.”

“I would have taken you or at least walked you to your car. Jesus! Don’t ever come out here at night by yourself. Do you understand?” His eyes tense with anger as he grips my face tighter.

My wide eyes fix on his in an unsettling mix of fear and confusion. “Why do you have a gun?” I whisper.

He kisses my forehead and sighs. “Because I didn’t grow up in Barrington Hills.”