Page 46 of Rogue

But they will.

As soon as I see Melody again everything will fall into place again. Like it has ever since the night I first saw her.

I’m not waiting for her to come to me. I’m going to get her. As it should be.

20

Melody

Rogue is sitting in the waiting room again when I finally get to leave work at about two AM. He’s sitting off in the corner, cradling his face in his hands, bent double over his knees, the leather of his jacket stretched taut over his arched back.

“Is something wrong?” I ask as I approach.

He unfolds before me, smiling, which makes his eyes glow like green jewels every time. But he looks tired.

“Nah, everything’s great,” he says as he stands up and lays his hands on my waist. “I just thought we could go for a ride before bed.”

His full meaning behind the wordbedhits me with all the force and heat of a raging forest fire. But his eyes are cool and peaceful.

“I’d like that,” I say. “After today, I need a ride to clear my head too.”

He takes my hand and leads me out of the hospital into the cool, windless spring night. His bike is parked by the entrance, two helmets hanging off the handlebars. He hands me one of them.

“I borrowed this for you,” he says. “But maybe it’s time we got you your own. If we’re gonna make this a more permanent pastime.”

I swallow hard as I take the helmet and can’t find my words. Or voice. I could tell him I have my own helmet sitting in the trunk of my car. I could tell him all he needs to know about my past so he’ll actually have all the info he needs before he starts saying things like this and mean it. But all I really want to tell him is…

“I think we just might have to make it a regular thing.”

He smiles again, brighter this time. Fuck my past. Maybe I’m just overreacting about the whole thing. Maybe he already knows I was a club girl for the last decade. Maybe he won’t care.

Every biker I ever met cared. But everything about Rogue has already been so different to what I expected, why shouldn’t this be too?

“So where are you taking me tonight?” I ask as I put on the helmet and shut those other doubts into a very dark corner of my mind.

“The beach, where else?” he says and mounts his bike. “Get on.”

I don’t need telling twice. And as soon as I wrap my arms around his waist, press my thighs against his hips and get a good nose full of his fresh, hopeful scent as I lean against him, most of my doubts just pop and disappear like soap bubbles.

The ride, the fresh air on my face, the rumbling of the bike beneath me and his strong and steady breathing take care of the rest.

We stop at a burger place for takeout and a couple of beers and are sitting at the end of an old wooden pier within half an hour. It’s not the same pier where he kissed me for the first time. Not the same beach as far as I can tell either. We’re alone here, and of the many lamps lining the pier, only one at thevery beginning of it and the one over us still work, casting a pale yellow light over us. His lips are as soft as the first time we kissed, as tasty, and the kiss is better than any sunrise I’ve ever seen.

This wooden pier is very old and it creaks, groans and shakes as the ocean waves hit its pillars. But I just know I’ll always be safe as long as he’s kissing me, as long as he’s holding me, as long as we’re together.

“Let’s eat before it gets cold,” he says and grins apologetically as he pulls away from the kiss and reaches into one of the bags.

“Let’s,” I say and grin too. “I’m starving.”

I take my grilled chicken sandwich from the bag and by the time I take my first bite he’s already finished half of his cheeseburger.

“Clearly not nearly as starving as you are, though,” I say as I watch him eat.

He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and washed down the bite he was chewing with a swig of beer. “After we found those women tonight, I didn’t think I’d eat for a good long while. But then you fixed them up.”

“For now,” I say. “But they were all in a very bad shape.”

I don’t want to burst his bubble with the cold, dark reality that all the five women might die yet. But I am a doctor, trained to operate in facts first and foremost. Or maybe I’m just not very strong on hope.

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