Page 44 of Strider's Misstep

Outside, Shotgun and Buzz are waiting. Sounds from the truck show our prisoner is already in the back. When I stop and gesture that she should get into the passenger side, she balks.

“You really want me to ride with him?” she asks scornfully.

Chastised, I admit, “They’re going back to Austin…”

“So are you,” she interrupts. “I want to ride with you.”

I haven’t had a woman on the back of my bike since the day I’d crashed and Anna had come off. I’m certainly not going to risk Jasmine. “No,” I reply. “No one rides with me.”

When Jassy’s hands go to her hips, I realise I’ve got a battle on my hands. “No?” Her first word sounds innocent. As I start to nod my head, she cuts off anything I might say. “You just asked me to be your old lady, but then say I can’t ride with you?”

I think that’s exactly what I just said. Gritting my teeth, I tell her, “It’s too risky.”

“Then you give up riding your bike.”

Me?“Woman,” I snarl. “I’ve been riding for years?—”

“Exactly.” She prods her finger into my chest as if making a point. “You had an accident when you were still new to bikes. I don’t think there’s any risk to me by riding with you after all the years’ experience you’ve now had than behind any other man on a bike.”

She’ll never be fucking riding with anyone else.

Shotgun overhears. “You can ride with me, sweetheart. Buzz can drive the truck.”

Oh no, she won’t.

“Thanks, Shotgun,” she calls back. “I’d appreciate that.”

My hands clench into fists as a roar bursts out of me. “The only bike you’ll be getting on is mine.”

Jasmine’s face splits into a wide grin. “Well, that’s settled then.”

Fuck me. I’m totally fucked with this woman. I know Anna used to use ploys to get what she wanted from me, but the difference with Jasmine is she’s only prodding me in the direction I really want to go. I want her on my bike. I want to feel her arms wrapped around my waist. I’m just terrified of history repeating itself.

Grabbing her hand, I lead her over to my bike. Taking my helmet off the handlebars, I hand it to her.

“Uh-huh,” she tells me, handing it back. “Don’t want you breaking your head.”

“Fuckin’ wear it, woman.” I slam it down on her skull and buckle it before she can protest again.

It’s only a half-head, and while it does fine for me, it’s in no way sufficient for her. Once I set off, instead of heading straight home, I stop at the first motorcycle dealer I come to. Taking her inside, I check out the helmets on display and pick out one complete with a visor. Her look of derision makes me grin.

In the end, we do settle for a full face, but one where the whole front lifts up so she doesn’t feel claustrophobic. I then buyher a full set of leathers so she can avoid road rash if she happens to come off. I can see her laughing at me, but along with her mirth, there’s understanding and compassion. She lets me have my way, going over the top with her protection.

I’ve blamed myself for years for Anna’s condition. Maybe I’m right. Maybe I’m wrong. But I’m taking no chances with Jasmine.

Having made our detour, my brothers are already way ahead of us on the road to Austin. Unusually, for once, I’m unescorted on the road, which means there’s no one to see me riding embarrassingly like an old woman. I do no more than fifty, even on the freeway. It should take me under four hours to make the journey. I end up taking five. When I stop three-quarters of the way home to top off my tank, Jasmine looks at me and laughs.

“I think I could walk faster.”

“Woman! I’m trying to keep you safe.” I go inside to pay. When I come out, she leans close to me.

“And I’m just impatient to get fucked.”

Rolling my eyes, I start the engine. I do increase the speed a little as she’s raised an urgency inside me. But there’s a bone-deep worry deep inside me that lightning, perhaps, can indeed strike twice.

When we finally reach the clubhouse, I breathe a sigh of relief. Without me having to tell her, she gets off the bike before I paddle walk it back into my space. I notice her hands going to the small of her back as she stretches and realise it was quite a long journey for someone unaccustomed to riding. But no complaint comes out of her mouth.

Instead, she pushes up the front of her helmet, winks, holds out her hand, and when I take it, she starts to drag me inside.

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