Page 9 of Ride the Wind (Devil's Knights 2nd Generation 8)

Dammit.

I pointed my finger at him. “As soon as you drop me off, you better forget where I live,” I demanded.

Zig stood and put his hand in his pocket. “Already forgot, darlin’. I’m not interested in anything more than getting out of here for an hour and dropping you off wherever you live.”

Hmm. I didn’t have much choice. It wasn’t like I knew anyone else here who could help me. There, of course, wasn’t a taxi or ride-share service, so it was either stay here until Kerry slinked out of Brain’s room or go with Zig. “You take me right home.”

He raised his hand and nodded his head. “You have my word, darlin’. I’m not looking for anything with you.”

I shouldn’t have been offended because I wasn’t looking for anything with him, but that stung. “For the record, I wasn’t looking for anything with you first.”

Zig chuckled and shook his head. “Noted. You wanna go, or would you rather argue about who doesn’t want who the most?”

I turned on my heel but stopped in my tracks. I had no idea where I was going, so storming off was impossible.

I felt Zig move behind me, and he cupped my elbow with his hand. “That was a sassy turn, darlin’, but I’ll take the lead from here.”

My cheeks heated, and I tipped my head back to look at him. He was much taller than I thought he was when he was seated, and I could see green flecks in his brown eyes. “Don’t call me sassy.”

“Just call it as I see it.” He guided me toward the edge of the backyard, and we skirted around a dilapidated fence that was more like a line of rubble than a fence. We moved through the darkness to the dimly lit parking lot.

“Ever been on a motorcycle before?” he asked. His voice was low, and the low vertebra hummed through me.

“Uh, well,” I sputtered. “No.”

He chuckled, and we stopped in front of an all-black bike. That was about anything I knew about it. It was a motorcycle, and it was all black. From the seat to the handlebar things to the wheels. Black.

“This is yours?” I asked.

Zig nodded and opened one of the bags on the side of the bike. “Yeah. My dad and brother helped me build it.”

“Wow, really?” That seemed pretty impressive to me. My dad had been more of a brainiac rather than good with his hands. He was great at numbers and equations but building anything with his hands didn’t happen.

“Yeah, darlin’. Impressed?” he laughed.

I cleared my throat and shook my head. “I mean, not, not really. Seems like something anyone could do as long as they knew what they are doing.”

“Couldn’t you say that about anything?” He pulled something out of his bag and plopped it on my head. “Pretty sure I could decorate a cake if I knew what I was doing.” He snapped the strap under my chin and looked me in the eye.

“No, not necessarily. You do need some kind of talent.” And did he know that I decorated cakes? How could he know that?

“Well, I guess my talent is putting together bikes then, yeah?” He straddled the bike and motioned for me to get on behind him.

“What do I do?” I asked.

He glanced over his shoulder at me and smirked. “Throw your leg over, wrap your arms around my waist, and hold the fuck on.”

Well, that was a little aggressive, but I think I could handle it. I scooted to the side of the bike and tried to lift my leg over the seat but lost my balance. I shuffled backward, and my arms flailed wildly.

Zig reached out and caught my hand before I landed on my butt. “Put your hand on my shoulder when you get on, darlin’.”

“I didn’t want to just touch you.”

“So you thought you should just fall on your ass?” he grumbled.

I thought I was more than capable to get on the bike without touching him. It wasn’t like I was eighty years old or something. “Can I put my hand on your shoulder?”

“You gotta be shittin’ me,” he mumbled. He tugged me close to him and put my hand on his shoulder. “Touch me all you want as long as I don’t have to pick you up off the fucking ground.”

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