Page 18 of Texas Hold Em'
The engine roared to life and the tires kicked up dirt and grass as we peeled away. Carrie held on, but not as tightly, and she rested her head on my back.
As I pointed the headlight toward my apartment, I hoped she wasn’t badly hurt.
CHAPTER 8
CARRIE
Tex got off the bike first. His long legs were a serious advantage. As soon as he had both feet on the ground, he offered me his hand to guide me off the bike too. Everything hurt as I gingerly swung one leg over the seat and slid off the other side.
Carefully, he undid the straps under my chin and removed his helmet from my head. He took my chin in one hand while tucking the helmet under his other arm. With his other hand, he held up a finger.
“Follow my finger,” he said.
While he held my head in place, I followed his finger with my eyes as he slowly moved it back and forth. Somewhere nearby, crickets chirped.
“How’s your head?” Tex’s gaze was razor focused as he watched my eyes.
“Not as bad as my hips,” I said.
When we crashed, I’d been rocked forward into Tex, and the pressure on my hips as I tried to stay in the saddle had been incredible. It hurt even more to be thrown off the bike, but I was lucky to have been able to tuck my legs so I didn’t get caught by the bike as it flipped over and slid.
“Anything else hurt?” he asked, releasing my chin.
“Oh you know, just my criminal record. Before Reno I was squeaky clean. And I meansqueakyclean. Now I have a handful of corpses on my rap sheet.”
He smiled. “Rap sheet, huh?”
“What else do you call it?”
“Ledger?”
“Sure. Whatever. Either way, I’m a murderer. Three weeks ago I was a reputable Ranger who could have transferred anywhere in the country she wanted. Now I’m bottom of the barrel scum.” I winced. “No offense.”
Tex chuckled and began walking to the back door of the warehouse. “None taken. Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.”
I looked down at my ruined jeans, blood-stained white shirt, and tattered jacket. Luckily, I’d been in head-to-toe denim, and it didn’t presentlyfeellike I’d been too chewed up by the road. Then again, adrenaline might have been sparing me the bulk of the pain.
With dread hanging over me, I followed Tex inside and down the humid hallway to his apartment. As soon as we got inside, he walked straight to the metal door off the kitchen, which he propped open with the toe of his boot while he lit a cigarette.
I lingered inside and watched him smoke. I’d never seen a man who could make it look so sexy.
He caught me watching him. The reflection of the orange end of his cigarette blazed in his eyes.
I cleared my throat. “Are you hurt?”
He exhaled a plume of smoke. “Only as much as my ego.”
“Your ego?”
“Never dropped a bike before.”
I rolled my eyes. “Oh.”
He flicked the end of his cigarette and chuckled. “I’m fine, Hart. A few scrapes and bruises. Nothing serious.”
A few scrapes and bruises,I mused.
I could see one of those bruises playing peekaboo at the collar of his black shirt. At some point he must have struck his collarbone, either on a part of his bike or the ground. The skin was angry and redaround a purpling bruise that seemed to grow darker the longer I looked at it.
