Page 12 of Hell on Wheels

“We won’t be on the road longer than a few hours.”

Two words came to mind as he glanced my way in the cab of his truck and those dark brows of his furrowed.Sex and sin.He wrapped them up in a perilously addictive package. Part of me was tempted to give in and flirt with him just to find out if he was half as interested as he hinted at while in his garage.

Not that it changed a damn thing.

I wouldn’t be staying with him. I definitely shouldn’t be riding in his truck, allowing him to take me wherever he wanted.

My stepbrother was going to be pissed when he learned that I disappeared. Sure, he could track my phone, but I turned it off when I hopped off Mr. Dark and Sexy’s bike.

Why? Because he intrigued me.

I grew curious about him, even more so after learning about his dog and his service to our country. A man like him lived a lifetime of experiences before he turned twenty-five. I wanted to know what made him into the rugged, seasoned warrior I met on the street and confronted a man for daring to slap a woman in his presence.

I instantly liked his no-bullshit attitude and take-charge personality. And God, that stare of his. So penetrating, even behind the dark sunglasses he wore. I felt stripped bare and naked to his sharp gaze.

Why did that turn me on so much?

With an audible sigh, I pushed the feelings of attraction aside. I had a mission to accomplish, which was taking time I didn’t have, placing me at further risk and involving a stranger who didn’t know how deep undercover I’d gotten to rescue my sister and her best friend.

When the leather-clad stranger headed toward Tonopah, I relaxed. My rendezvous point was in Goldfield. He was leading me closer to my goal. For that reason, I decided I could follow his lead. It wouldn’t last long, but he didn’t need to know that. I would make a move when I needed to, and he didn’t need to learn the truth to keep me safe for the brief time we spent together.

Still, I felt guilty. How could I allow his help and involve someone else in this dangerous game I played?

This guy didn’t know the cold hand of death was brushing his fingers along the back of my neck and just waiting for the moment to snuff out my life.

One wrong move and those fingers would wrap around my throat and squeeze, ending my existence.

“You gonna start talkin’, Lark? Or make me ask a bunch of dumb and pointless questions?”

Lifting my chin, I gave him a withering look. “Aren’t the pointless questions and small talk the best options? The less you know, the better.”

We drove down Highway 95 with hardly a vehicle passing us in the night. The roads were mostly clear along the two-lane stretch of asphalt. Stars were sprinkled heavily above and twinkled merrily like life was just one big happy adventure filled with innocence and promise. I wish that were true.

“You’ve got some serious walls built up, little dove. I thought I was the best at pushing people away and keeping them out. You’re a close second.”

I gave him my full attention, deciding if I couldn’t tell the whole truth, I could at least reveal some of it. Stripping off my jean jacket, I tossed it onto the dashboard and lifted my right arm, exposing the first of many scars.

“See this? That’s the first cigarette burn I earned from my dad. Guess how old I was?”

I didn’t give him time to answer.

“Five. Just a little kid.”

He scowled.

I lifted my tank top and exposed my midriff. “See that? It’s from a burn I received when a pan of hot water hit my stomach. Know what my father told the ER doctor? I pulled it down and hurt myself.” I snorted, not the least bit humored. “I was six.”

“Christ,” he cursed.

Unsnapping my jeans, I shoved them down until the wound above my pelvic bone was visible. “This scar? What does that look like? A knife wound? Well, you would be half right.”

“Lark.”

“It’s from the blade my dad used to go hunting. Has a gut hook on the end. He carved me up as a sweet sixteen present before he forced me to become familiar with how a man wanted a woman. I lost more than blood that night. If you look closely, you can see it’s his name carved into my skin.” Tears didn’t even fill my eyes when my lip lifted in a sneer. “I don’t trust easily, and I have a lot of good reasons.”

“Fuck,” he replied.

Partially naked, I didn’t bother to hide all the visible skin or remaining scars. I wasn’t ashamed of who I was or what I survived. I didn’t have to answer a single soul on this earth. Feeling vulnerable, I told the handsome biker because I wanted him to understand I wasn’t sticking around and it had nothing to do with him.

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