Page 4 of Lucifer's Hounds

Lacey appears before me, interrupting my self-pity party, setting a napkin down in front of me.

"This is from the gentleman that just left. The biker with the big arms," she says, making an awkward motion around her own arms.

I pick up the napkin and see it’s been written on.

You are so sexy. Can I have the rest of this night with you, and we see if this is what I hope it is?

A slow smile spreads across my face. I finish my drink and walk out the door, hoping to find Cass nearby. I spot a bike in the parking lot and a rush of excitement washes over me. He hasn’t left. I scan the parking lot and spot him leaning against the side of my ‘66 Mustang Fastback. Both of his hands are in his pockets and the way the light in the parking lot dances around him, looks like there’s a spotlight pinned directly on him. He is the epitome of sexy and there he is, standing there, waiting forme.

"Hello Miss Summers," Cass says as I approach him.

“Hi.”

“One hell of a project car,” he says, gawking at Betty.

“My dad and I fixed her up, and she’s been my baby ever since.”

“That sounds like a cool father daughter project. What’s your ol’ man do?”

“He was a retired prison guard.”

“Interesting.” Cass’s eyes never leave Betty.

"I thought you had work to do tomorrow?"

"I do, but not until noon. Want to go for a ride?"

"Abso-fuckin'-lutely."

Cass leads me over to his motorcycle. Opening a compartment on the side, he pulls out a smaller version of the chrome helmet he has and hands it to me. I settle it on top of my head, and he helps me buckle it beneath my chin. Unable to wipe the silly smile from my face, I wait patiently for him to get on the bike.

He pats the seat behind him. “Hop on.”

I throw my right leg over and position myself behind him. I’ve only ever been on the back of a motorcycle once in my life, when I was too young to worry about it. I don’t have anything against it, but it isn’t something that’s part of my daily life by any means.

I wrap my arms around Cass, slipping my hands inside the pocket of his cut. I don’t really know how to hold on, but this seems to work.

“Hold on tight,” he instructs, patting my hand through the thick leather.

Cass cranks the volume on the radio, John Cafferty and the Beaver Brown Band blasts through the speakers playing the NYC Song.

Cass bursts into song, "Hey little girl."

I jump in, “Take me by the hand."

Cass turns the radio down. "You know this?" he asks, his surprise evident in his tone of voice.

"It's from one of my favorite movies."

"Huh. Mine too.” He blares it and we take off through the parking lot, both of us singing at the top of our lungs.

As soon as the tires hit the highway, Cass hammers the gas. I grip tightly to the inside of his pockets, trying to ensure I won’t fly off the back. Thank God for those two double crowns because I don’t know if my nerves could handle this sober.

I smile into his shoulder where my head rests as we ride down the main highway, weaving in and out of traffic.

Normally, I would be nervous and afraid, but for some reason, I find myself trusting this stranger in front of me. The adrenaline rush alone from being on the back of a motorcycle with a sexy stranger and the wind in my face as we race down the highway at high speeds is making me exhilaratingly happy. It’s so freeing and I soak up every minute of this bliss.

Riding past an eighteen-wheeler, I tap Cass on the shoulder. "What is that smell?"

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