Page 17 of Devil's Due

“Stevie, I’m going to make a lot of mistakes, okay? I’m going to fuck up.”

She must use the sound of my voice to guide her, but her hand finds my arm, then slides down until she’s gripping my hand, squeezing it gently. “You’re doing fine.”

“I’m gonna get you on the bike now, sweetheart. Take a step to the side and put your hand out. There, lower. Got it. That’s the seat. I’m going to get on, then when I do, put your leg over it, okay?”

“I’ll help her if she needs it,” Pal offers.

But she’s got the idea of it, swinging her leg over like a pro. She hadn’t lied, she has done this before. As she doesn’t weigh much, the bike hardly notices her extra weight on it as I kick up the stand and balance it. Before turning on the engine, I give her a few instructions about hanging onto my waist and moving with me around the corners just in case she’s forgotten. I take a second to admire her bravery and trust, she’s on a bike with a stranger, but offers no plea for me to take it carefully.

“Okay. Let’s get moving. You going to tell me where we’re going?”

“We’ll see you back at the clubhouse,” Pyro says. Then he and Pal take off.

She gives me the general idea, then fine-tunes the directions as we draw closer. It takes a lot of communication, me describing where we are, then her telling me which way to turn. When we arrive, there’s a drive I can park on. It’s a pleasant house from what I can see of it in the darkness, set back a little from the road, flowers lining the driveway. As I help her off and hang the helmet on the handlebar, I notice a perfume in the air as I walk her down to the front door.

She takes out her key and uses it, then steps inside, placing her purse and key on a table near the door.

Then she turns. “Thank you, Beef. Thank you for everything. I don’t know what would have happened had you not been there…”

“Fuck, babe. Someone would have helped. Just glad I was there. I hope Max does okay.” I don’t tell her, but I’ll be checking up on him myself.

It’s awkward. I don’t know her, she doesn’t know me. Just strangers really that met in the night. I’ve got this strange impulse to know more about her, how she lives her life, what she does for a living. There’s no one at home, so presumably there’s no husband or kids, but she may have a boyfriend. Woman looking like her must attract interest. I’d love a peep into her home, wondering if it’s drab and dreary, or whether she has a colour scheme. Fuck knows why she would, she can’t see it. Is it fancy or plain and utilitarian? And why am I so fucking interested?

She’s not inviting me in, and there’s no reason for her to. “Well, I’ll be off. Stevie, I took the liberty of putting my number into your phone. If you need anything—”

“Thank you, but I’ll be fine, Beef.”

I start leaning in with the intention of placing a kiss to her cheek, then pull myself back.Not got that kind of relationship.Not got any kind of relationship at all. As I realise this is the last I’ll see of her, I feel a pang of regret.

“Okay. Right. Goodnight.” Nothing else to say.

“Goodnight, Beef. And, thank you again.”

She steps forward, reaches for the handle. I step back, and the door closes.

Some bizarre instinct has me glued to the spot. My protective nature would have liked to check out the house before she stepped into it.What if there was an intruder inside?How would she know? It’s not like me to just walk off and leave someone, but I’ve not had an encounter like this before. If I’ve ever taken a woman back to her house, it was with the intention of fucking her. That’s not the situation here. Not that I wouldn’t have turned down the offer, but it wouldn’t have come. She’s not the type to want to casually take a ride on a biker’s cock.

Why is my mind going there? Last night, like a dumbass, I’d made a commitment to Sally that I wouldn’t touch another woman. Even had she offered, I wouldn’t have been able to take her up on it.

I stand there, staring at nothing, thinking about the difference between the woman I’d left and the woman who’s behind the other side of the door. I might not know much about Stevie, but am impressed as hell about how well she’s able to cope. Her independence shines through, and she’s brave. Didn’t balk at riding my bike, didn’t fear falling off.Trusted me to keep her safe.

Sally might think she needs me, but it dawns on me that’s what is missing.Trust.

I’m brought out of my reverie by a disturbing sound. A distraught wail followed by weeping.

I’m frozen to the spot, uncertain of my next actions. Do I quietly go? Leave her to her privacy? Or, do I try to offer comfort and help? Would me witnessing her breakdown cause embarrassment, or would she welcome the support?

Before I have second thoughts, my hand lifts and my knuckles knock against the wood. Getting no answer, I rap louder, then call out, “Stevie, you alright?”

The cries fade, then I get a response. “I’m… fine. I’m…” Each word is punctuated with heart wrenching sobs.

“Babe, let me in. You’ve had one hell of a shock. You shouldn’t be alone.” She must have a friend I can call for her.

“Beef, I…”

“Let me in.” Bracing my arm against the wood, I lean forward and gentle my voice. “Open the door, babe.”

For a moment nothing happens. I’m just accepting I’ve done all I can when there’s the sound of the deadbolt being slid back and the latch turning. The sight I see on the other side breaks my heart. Already her eyes are red, tracks of tears running down her cheeks and those not yet fallen are glistening in her eyes. She looks the picture of desperation. It’s natural for me to take the step that closes the distance between us, kicking the door shut behind me with my boot, and pulling her into my arms.

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