Page 12 of Moros

The snarl was followed by the dingo f a bell.

Finishing up my night, I washed off the stink of fast food as best I could in the bathroom sink. I released my hair, used my fingers to scoop it back together then tied it up in a short ponytail at the base of my neck.

I’d been wearing my hair natural for the past few years—salons were expensive and buying relaxers and the like just so I could take my chances with the chemicals seemed like a waste of money.

I didn’t have the money to spare.

Digging into my purse, I found an almost bottle of body mist.

There was so little in it, the pump didn’t work.

Frowning, I opened the bottle, stuck my finger inside and tilted it so the little liquid would dampen the tip of my finger.

I then used the finger to dab both sides of my neck before holding the bottle up to the light.

It was almost empty.

Packing my purse again, I checked my phone to see it only had two bars. If I didn’t use it for anything, the juice should last until I got home—or at the very least to the front of the building.

I checked the time and almost freaked out—I was late to catch the last bus.

Sighing in frustration, I strung the bag over my shoulder, strutted by Sylvie and stepped outside into the humid heat.

I was sure to slam the door extra hard, then took great pleasure in listening to Greg swear.

“Ms. Larwick.”

Tilting my head to the side, Khadri stood to his full height with his hands shoved into his pockets.

“How about a ride?”

I blushed.

“I’m too heavy for that thing. We’d both die.”

“For a Harley?”

He walked toward me, dressed in all black looking too dangerous for his own good.

“Come on.” He took my hand.

Weak, I allowed him to walk me toward the cycle.

“And besides, I smell like food.” I protested. “I couldn’t have a shower before?—”

“Ryanne?”

He faced me.

“I’m going to need you to stop worrying.” He placed a helmet on my head and latched it under my chin. “Breathe.”

He climbed onto the cycle and took my hand. He instructed me on how to get on. Bracing my free hand on his shoulder, I sat behind him then realized I wasn’t sure what to do next.

“Hang on.” He told me while fixing his helmet in place.

“Um—” I set my purse between our bodies and wrapped my arms around him, pressing my palms to his thighs.

He took both my hands up and pressed them to his abs and the fire that heat my face threatened to consume me.

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