Page 111 of Blue

Back in the chapel, Bullet had his arms crossed, staring at Blue. Rogue smoked a cigarette. Blue sat next to him, his head bowed, and his bent elbows on his knees. He looked miserable. Gone was the flirting Bluewho ticked off a list of all the ways he wanted to fuck me while we were in the shower.

As soon as Cruz spotted us, he said something to everyone at the table. Talk stopped, and Blue’s gaze snapped to me.

He stood, and my heart skipped into a wild flutter, then felt as if he’d taken a sledgehammer to my chest. I hurt for him. He’d never wanted to acknowledge his past, and he didn’t want people to see his scars. I knew because I was going to reveal mine to Blade.

Blue’s mouth pulled into a hard line, and shadows darkened his eyes. I hated this. I hated that he had to expose his perceived weaknesses. He wasn’t though. He’d been a victim, became a survivor, and now, some would see what he was about to do as becoming the antihero. Vigilantes didn’t ask permission. And neither did Hellers.

Cruz approached and kissed McKelle. “Later.” Then he went back to the table.

Blue pointed to the helmet.

“It’s Jazzy’s,” I said.

“Why do you have it?”

McKelle pulled on her helmet. “Because she’s riding with me.”

Blue furrowed his brow. “The fuck she is.”

I stood on my tiptoes and wrapped one arm around his neck. “I am.”

I kissed him. I’d planned a quick kiss, but his arm banded around my waist, my lips parted, and his tongue swirled against mine. Holy shit, he didn’t just kiss me. I felt the possession from the heat of his mouth to the tips of my toes.

He gripped my braid, angled my head, and kissed me deeper. Lost in the delirium of his mouth on mine,one hand in my hair, the other cupping my jaw, I surrendered. A low moan rumbled between us. I wasn’t sure if it was me or Blue, but he gripped me tighter, inhaling my scent, then resting his forehead against mine.

“Be safe,” he said against my lips. Then he glared at McKelle. “You ride with her on your bike like you do on the track, and I’ll fucking chop your bike for parts.”

McKelle rolled her eyes. “Sheesh. You’ve never seen me on the track.”

“You race bikes?” I asked. “I want to be you when I grow up.”

Outside in the lot, we walked to the backside of the property.

“Cruz won’t let me park near the real bikes.” She slipped on her helmet. “Positioning is different.” McKelle slid the key into the ignition of her white BMW with its sleek fairings. I could only imagine how the Hellers would bristle at a sportbike in their line of chrome and steel.

She climbed onto the bike. “Tap my belly if you need me to stop. Don’t let go of me, even at a light. When I brake, you can rest a hand on the tank.”

“Got it. Do you know where we’re going?”

She nodded, and I buckled the strap on the helmet, lowered the visor, and climbed on behind her. She slowly rode out of the lot.

Blue and Cruz stood in the doorway of the MC. McKelle and I both waved, then she twisted the throttle. The engine screamed more than rumbled as she whipped out of the compound and raced toward downtown.

***

Sportbike people were just like Harley riders. Birds of a feather obviously did flock together. McKelle turned into the parking lot and rode straight over to the two sportbikes parked near the entrance to the community center.

She killed the engine, jumped from the bike, ripped her helmet off, and gawked at the Yamaha. “Sweet ride. YZF R1,” she said. “This bike is practically track ready.”

“Thanks for bringing me. If you don’t want to stay, I’m sure I can find a ride home.”

McKelle tucked her motorcycle key into her pocket. “I’ll stay. They’re not going to ask me to share or anything, are they?”

“I don’t think so. We can sit in the back.” Before we walked through the door, I paused. “Yesterday was a shit day,” I said and explained about Janie.

“Fuck, Kiss, I’m so sorry.”

Ansel was behind the desk. I introduced McKelle. “She’s just here for support. Is that okay?”

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