****
The following evening, Mona and Ryan stood in the alley behind her bar, as planned. He had his CopyCat all shined and ready to rumble, but she was starting to worry that they’d been tricked into being there.
“Is he going to show?” she asked Ryan.
“He’ll show,” Ryan said with a nod. “He’s too cocky to let an opportunity like this pass by.”
“If that bastard even gets one microscopic dent on that bike—”
“Surprise surprise,” Lance’s voice said from behind them, “I’m a few minutes late and you’re already talking shit about me.”
Ryan’s eyes narrowed as he looked at him. “You said we had to be on time,” he pointed out.
“I guess that means you lose and we get The Duke back,” Mona added.
Lance laughed harshly, more like a bark than a human laugh. “You wish,” he said. He was leading the teal and white Harley into the alley with him. It shown in the light of the streetlamps, just as beautiful as Mona remembered.
Oh, please don’t let him hurt my baby…
Kicking one leg over The Duke, he got onto the motorcycle and snapped his helmet in place atop his stupid orange-haired head. “You ready to go, Kirby? Or do you need a permission slip from your mom?”
“Oh, cut the shit, Lance.” Ryan got onto his sleek, black bike and put his helmet on as well.
Mona hoped that this race would be over quickly and that no one would end up hurt… At least, not Ryan. Lance, on the other hand, could use a few broken limbs. Maybe a broken face…
“Ready?” Lance called out.
The two young men lined up their bikes so they were starting the race from the exact same place, parallel to a set of dumpsters.
“On your marks,” Mona shouted. “Get set… GO!”
As soon as the two pristine Harleys were off down the long stretch of road, Mona got out her cell phone and, sticking to Ryan’s plan, called the police number he’d used before.
There was no way she and Ryan were going to let this race end in a victory for Lance Olsen. If everything went right tonight, he was going to be ending this race in handcuffs.
Ryan shot up the hill, but Lance was surprisingly able to keep his pace given that The Duke probably hadn’t run in a while. Ryan looked over at Lance, and Lance held up his gloved middle finger and shouted something unintelligible.
“What?” Ryan shouted back when he was close enough beside the other rider.
It was another stretch of time before they were able to hear each other again. “I saw your girlfriend on the phone!” Lance yelled. “You call the cops on me, the deal is off!”
Lance took a sudden swerve and went off in a direction that Ryan hadn’t anticipated, down a different alley and onto a large and populated street.
Surprised, Ryan pulled back and turned so he could follow Lance. He suddenly smiled when he realized where they were and how close they were to the city center.
Lance seemed to have forgotten what could be found in the city center.
Several police stations.
Ryan could hear the sirens before he saw the police motorcycle following Lance at top speed. The dumbass didn’t stop, but instead sped up, trying to outrun the cop in a highly-populated area.
The race was over between Ryan and Lance. Cutting off his engine, all Ryan could do now was sit and wait for the results. He pulled out his cell phone and noticed that he’d received a text from Mona about ten minutes ago.
“All cops are on the lookout for The Duke and The Dick who’s riding it.”
Ryan grinned down at his phone. God damn did he love this girl.
Lance was being pulled from The Duke by two policemen not much bigger than him. Ryan heard Mona running up behind him, and he removed his helmet. They exchanged proud grins and stood together watching from a distance as the cops confronted Lance in tense silence. They shared a look before Ryan dismounted, walking hand in hand with Mona over to the squad car so they could hear the conversation better.
“Here! Here’s my license!”
The cop was unimpressed. “Hm. That’s funny; this says Lance Olsen. This bike seems to be registered to a Benny Myers.”
Lance started to speak, but he stopped mid-word. “This is my bike.”
The other cop grinned. “Really? Think I should run the plates again?”
Lance bristled. “You just got here. How did you have time to run my plates?”
“This bike has been reported stolen, son,” the first cop said breezily. “Just yesterday, as a matter of fact—I don’t suppose you knew that, did you?”
Ryan didn’t think it was possible to see Lance go any paler, but he did. Then he turned around and saw Ryan and Mona standing side by side. Mona waved flirtatiously, and Ryan smiled.
“They lent it to me!” Lance said, and Ryan was impressed; he only sounded a little desperate, and he might have been convincing if his voice wasn’t shaking. “They lent it to me the other day. I guess they forget to tell you they found it.”
“I guess they did,” the cop said. “When they reported it stolen yesterday morning, and mentioned you as a primary suspect.”
The second cop started to put Lance in handcuffs. As he was being told his rights, Lance started to laugh—it was barely a laugh at all, more of a jagged scream filled with hatred.
“I’ll be out soon!” Lance said, his copper eyes now looking quite crazed. He was trying to jerk free of the handcuffs. “You can’t do this to me! I’ll be out soon!”
Mona walked over to him and got close enough to touch him—and she actually did, touching one hand to his cheek as gently as a lover’s embrace. He stilled, surprised, and Mona smiled.
“I think you’d better drug test him,” she said. “His eyes look pretty red.”
Lance looked so shocked he forgot to be angry. “I haven’t had any drugs, you idiot.”
It was then that Ryan realized his eyes weren’t red because of drugs – that was true. Lance’s eyes were red because he’d started crying.
“Oh, this is one for the history books,” Ryan taunted him as the cops got Lance into their car and slammed the door. “Lance Olsen is literally crying like a baby.”
“We’ll see how that helps him in jail,” Mona said.
They stood, arm in arm, and waved at Lance as the cops slowly pulled away and drove him back down the street to the precinct.
Approaching The Duke, Mona threw her arms around the bike and hugged it as thought it was a person… As though it was her father. “I’ve missed you, baby.”
“Hey, Myers,” Ryan said to her, tossing his helmet. “How about it?”
She caught his shiny black helmet and looked at him, surprised for a second before his meaning dawned on her. Giving a smirk, she placed his helmet onto her head and buckled it. Mona hopped on board her daddy’s old bike.
She took a deep breath and started its engine. This was going to be easy. This was just going to be a quick ride back to the bar. And she could take it as slowly as she needed to… Ryan was not going to let her get hurt.