Page 11 of Walking Red Flag

There was a knock at my door moments later, and I was unsurprised to find out who it was when I looked through the peephole.

I cautiously opened the door and said, “Asher, what are you doing here?”

“I came back early to make it in time for your birthday.” He looked sort of apologetic.

Like he was kicking himself for acting like he’d acted.

And because I was such a sucker, I didn’t tell him to go fuck himself like I should have.

Plus, I was bummed because everyone was busy tonight.

Maven’s son, Redford, had been in a school play tonight. Everyone had gone to watch but me because I’d had no employees to cover the shift at The Grizzly.

That had to be why I agreed to go out on a ride with him.

Feeling sorry for myself and all that.

When we got outside—me dressed in jeans, a long-sleeved tee and boots—he smiled at me sheepishly and said, “We have to go to my house to pick up your helmet. I came straight here.”

That was when I should’ve automatically said no.

That’d been something that I’d done from day one.

For some reason, the thought of my brothers and sisters finding me dead from riding a bike without a helmet really made me feel awful, so I’d always been sure to wear one.

I shouldn’t have disregarded that gut feeling, but I did.

I got on the back of his bike, wrapped my arms around his torso, and had the thought of “this feels wrong.”

Especially when he put on his own helmet and started to ride.

At first, it wasn’t too bad.

He kept it slow in the neighborhood.

But he got faster.

And faster.

And faster.

Until my heart was beating so hard there was no way he couldn’t feel it.

“Would you please slow down?” I begged.

I wasn’t wearing a helmet for Christ’s sake.

Why had I agreed to go on a slow ride with him around the lake without a helmet?

How dumb could I be?

He didn’t slow down.

He only laughed and said, “Live a little, Milena. This is what I’m talking about. You have no clue how to let loose.”

I felt my stomach clenching.

“I’ll fucking call my brothers,” I growled, knowing he could hear me, and knowing it would piss him off. He hated when I threatened to call my brothers, or brothers-in-law, to come get me. “Slow down and let me off!”

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