Page 51 of Riordan's Revenge

I liked this. Liked the instinctual way she held me as I rode.

“You a biker?” I forced my attention back to Max.

“Aye, but I’m a da, too, so I don’t get out so often. Where are ye two heading in the middle of the night?”

“Somewhere,” Cassie answered.

“Be sure to stay safe in that somewhere.”

“Thanks, Max. See ye.”

She tapped my back, a clear signal that we weren’t hanging around. I gave Max a fist bump, tugged my helmet on, then biked out of there.

The empty roads weaved through the Cairngorms National Park. I took it steady at first, just enjoying being out and not wanting to let loose for Cassie’s sake. But she rode so perfectly with me, banking out with me at corners, and even shifting her hands from my body to the engine block when I had to brake.

When we hit a straight coming down a foothill, a wide-open road ahead of us, I squeezed her hands, linked across my middle.

Hold on to me.

She hugged me harder.

I let rip with the throttle. My bike was built for this, and the Ducati flew. Fresh air, moonlight, good tarmac, and Cassie’s laugh was music to my ears. From all the hours I put in at work, I hadn’t taken a long ride in months. For the first time in forever, I got a burst of freedom so strong, it staggered me.

We passed a ski centre and came down off the snow roads, on the Highland tourist route. In a matter of months, the road could be icy and risky on a bike, but in the middle of autumn, it was perfect.

I could almost forgive Cassie the kidnap attempt so that I experienced this.

My body had constructed a different argument altogether. Worse when her fingers slid under my jacket to link over my t-shirt, nestling warm against my skin. I wanted her. Desperately, I wanted to stop in some dark lay-by, perch her on the bike, and kiss her stupid. I wanted to mess with her. Strip her by the side of the road. Brand the image in my mind of her body draped over my bike.

But I didn’t forget our destination.

Nor the way I guessed she was feeling at what was coming up.

A couple of hours in, we hit the outskirts of Aberdeen. The closer we got, and the more urban our surroundings with streetlights and city roads, the more rigid Cassie became. When we arrived at Union Road, she squeezed my shoulders, and I cruised to a halt.

“There it is. That building above the pizza place.”

With the engine off, I helped her down then stretched out my body, scanning our surroundings. Duncan House was our target. An unremarkable block of flats above a row of shops and in between others on the city centre street. A man sloped up to the door panel and pressed a buzzer.

Adrenaline sparked inside me.

Cassie tapped my helmet. “Keep this on.”

“You’re not doing the same?” She’d already removed hers.

“Might need it as a non-lethal weapon.”

She collected something from inside my backpack, then tightened it on her shoulders. A crackling sound came as the man’s buzz was answered, and I jumped forward to catch the slow-moving door before it fell closed behind him.

We entered to a plain staircase.

Cassie consulted her phone briefly then jogged up to the third floor. The same man waited outside a flat.

He slanted a look at us, focusing on me over Cassie’s head. In my leather jacket and black helmet with the visor up, I knew how I appeared, and leaned into the intimidation until he took a step backwards.

“That’s the flat we want,” Cassie whispered.

The door opened, and a woman in her dressing gown appeared in the frame.

---