Page 38 of Cross To Bear

She stared into my eyes, and I found myself dropping deeper into those brown depths, but my rapt fascination meant I caught that little nod. I grinned then, feeling ten tonnes lighter, as I offered her my arm.

I watched Maddie far too closely as I led her out of the stuffy office building, whisking her past people who stopped to look and whisper, out the shining glass doors and into the last breaths of the day. All of those people would head to nice bars where they’d have nice glasses of nice white wine or red, though not my girl. Jesse couldn’t get his head around the fact that a woman like her would spare him a second glance, but I knew. She was damn good at what she did, and by all reports was an excellent accountant, though on her downtime… Maddie liked to get a little wild.

So that’s why I was on tenterhooks right now.

When my baby met my girl, this was a moment I’d been waiting for my entire adult life, and it was happening right now. I went to explain this was my bike, that I rebuilt every damn inch of it, including stripping down what felt like a million layers of paint to get to the bare metal on the frame, but her eyes widened, and her hand went to her mouth.

“This is your bike?”

I was pretty sure my cheeks were burning bright red right now, but I didn’t care.

“Fuck yeah it is,” I stroked a hand across the leather seat, the curves of it enough of a substitute for hers for now that the need in my chest could settle. “Baby…” I felt the stipple of the leather’s texture under my fingers. “This is Maddie. Maddie, this is my baby.”

“Wow, it’s beautiful.” Her new boots clicked on the concrete as she walked around my bike, her eyes seeming to soak in all of the gleaming details.

Including this…

I’d painted the tank in a fit of fury. I can’t remember exactly what made me pissed off that day. Something Jesse had done, of course. Not just his usual fuckery around the garage, messing up details, screwing customers around, but something to do with Maddie. I’d been raging about it with Hawk, my brother just nodding along, the dangerous light in his eyes the only indication I had that he was feeling the same way, and then… Then I’d gone to work on my newly primed fuel tank. I’d put off doing the final touches of the paint job, waiting for inspiration to strike.

And it had.

The base colour was a deep blue, and on the sides was a woman, her eyes closed, her hair swept back by an invisible wind.

Maddie.

She stopped still, staring at the art then the artist, a question in her eyes.

“I… should’ve turned up on a different bike.” I scratched the back of my neck. “This is probably a bit weird.”

“So it is me? I’m not just imagining that?”

“Nope, it’s you.” I slid my hand up and down the tank, as I often did for luck. I needed it sometimes, with all the dickhead car drivers on the road. “I could tell you the story behind it, but…” I shrugged. “It’s always you.”

She sat with that information for a moment, making me fucking wish we were mated. Our minds would be linked together so I’d be able to sense how she was taking this information and she’d know I was kicking my own arse right now. Instead she straightened up and pulled the helmet on, fastening the chin strap tight.

“You gonna show me a good time or what?”

Her voice was muffled, though I heard the challenge there, clear as day. I grinned then, shoving anxiety away for just a moment before throwing my leg over the bike. My hands clasped the handlebars, then her hands as she slid on behind me, moving them low so she’d feel secure on the back. I kick started my baby, hearing the bike’s triumphant roar echo through the increasingly empty city streets. But the feel of Maddie’s body pressed against mine, holding me tight as I eased the bike out onto the road? I’d been waiting for this moment too. Because as my girl gripped me tighter, I could pretend that we could head out on the road and ride forever, see where it took us.

Chapter 23

I couldn’t remember riding on a motorcycle being this… stimulating. The whole experience, from the clothes to the discovery Crash had painted my bloody face on the bike, set the stage for this. Climbing on the back of a powerful machine and then wrapping my arms around just as powerful a body.

Crash described the bike as female, but it didn’t feel like it at all. The engine was loud, brash, demanding attention as he took off, and the feel of it was all unbridled power. It was him and his sleuth made into a machine, I realised, trying very hard not to feel the bunch and stretch of his taut muscles under my palms. Trying not to slide my hands against them, against all of Crash, glorying in his strength or even better, throwing my arms up in the air for the wind to tug at my fingertips.

He stayed true to his word and not his name, thankfully, swerving down streets, weaving between traffic with an almost balletic grace. But a dancer could never replicate the idle power of a motorcycle, because that was the danger of them. Their manoeuvrability, their agility had you slipping through tiny gaps in traffic, cutting through the wind, nothing between you and the road as we raced on and on, finally coming to a stop out the front of the bar.

Raucous rock music pumped from the speakers, punching into my ears the minute I wrestled my helmet off. Strong fingers stopped me, unclasping the neck strap properly before pulling it free. That light in Crash’s eyes, it was flickering bright, full of a hectic energy and I knew exactly how it felt. I darted closer, moving without thought, and he did the same, but both of us put the brakes on abruptly. We just stared at each other, trying to work out what was going on in the other person’s head, right as we were scrambling to do that with our own.

“Crashie!” A bellow of a voice had us jerking apart almost guiltily, a big bear of a man lumbering over, wearing the colours of a local biker gang. “Who do we have here? Some poor girl feeling sorry for your pathetic arse?” The guys were huge, but this guy felt like he’d blot out the sun, his shoulders comically broad.

“Mine, is what she is.” Crash’s voice changed in an instant, all of the goofy good humour stripped away as he yanked me behind him, his neck craning forward as he sported a savage expression. “Keep your fucking eyes to yourself, Beast.”

For a split second, I felt a white hot stab of fear as the two men faced off, but Beast shattered the growing tension with a great big belly laugh.

“Your girl? I should’ve known.” He tried to peer past Crash’s shoulder to where I stood, though my escort just stepped into his line of sight. “You’ve got nothing to worry about from me and mine.” He nodded to a bunch of bikers standing around talking shit and nursing beers. “You know I’ve only got eyes for one girl.” Beast looked almost mournfully at the door of the bar.

“Still panting after Roxy?” The line of Crash’s shoulders seemed to soften. “She’s never gonna go for it, Beast.”

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