Page 49 of Destroyed (American Street Kings 4)

“Just what I asked. How much do you trust me, Neon?”

Her eyes narrowed. “Why? What’s going on?” Worry lines formed grooves on her forehead.

I walked closer to her, like I was readying to catch her just in case she decided to run from me. “I have to show you something, but first I need to know you trust me completely. That you trust in how I feel about you.”

“Okay, now you’re freaking me out.”

“No, don’t freak out.” I took both her hands, and once again I was aware of her one missing finger, a pair of shears coming to mind. “What happened between us last night was a fucking game-changer for me, Neon. It changed everything.”

“I still don’t understand. What are you trying to say?”

“How much do you trust me?”

“Ink, I—”

“How much, Neon?”

Her eyes studied mine, scrutinizing me with a slight frown. “I trust you with my life.”

And like holy water, relief flowed through my body, calming the nerves that weighed heavily in my gut.

“Okay.” I pulled her closer, wrapping my arms around her and hugging her tight, placing kisses against her hair. “I need you to hold on to that, okay? Hold on to that trust.”

“Ink, you’re really freaking me the fuck out.”

Letting go of her, I grabbed my cut and keys. “Come on.”

“Where are we going?”

I licked my lips and met her gaze. “We’re going to make things right.”

* * *

Neon

I was neverthe fender-fluff type of girl. Riding on the back of a motorcycle as some decorative pussy to blow smoke up a muscled bad-boy biker’s ass was not my idea of a joyride. Not one of these assholes could say my butt touched the leather of their hogs’ seats. I never joined them on runs or Sunday afternoon cruises, which were more about flashing expensive pieces of metal and powerful engines than it was about actually having fun and enjoying the ride.

But I did not hesitate to get on Ink’s hog the second he held his hand out to me. Having my arms wrapped around him, holding tight, it felt like the entire world was flashing by, leaving us behind.

It felt good riding with Ink, but there was a sense of foreboding that followed us through the streets. A feeling of caution that clung to us around every curve, past every traffic light. I couldn’t shake it, especially since it radiated off him while I held him close.

Ink pulled off the road, parking his bike before switching off the ignition. I didn’t recognize the street or the old, tumbledown building across from us. The sun was high, the summer heat bearing down on us, but for some reason, it seemed like the sun didn’t touch this street—a harbinger of the bad feeling already gnawing at my spine.

“What are we doing here?” I got off the hog, and Ink followed.

“You’ll see.”

“Seriously,” I turned to face him, clutching my arms in front of my chest, “what’s going on?”

He roughed his hand through his hair, dragging his gaze around us. “If I told you there was a way for you to take back what that fucker took from you, would you do it?”

“What do you mean?”

He stepped closer, shoulders squared. “Would you do it?”

Warning prickled the back of my neck, but I couldn’t lie, not when I knew if there was a chance to change things for me, I would take it.

“Yes.” My answer was soft but didn’t lack conviction.

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