Page 53 of Orion Ruined

Immediately, I’m handed a helmet. “This is yours.”

I try to make sense of it and he’s more than happy to assist. “Here, let me help you.” He neatly tucks my hair beneath it. “Who cut your hair?”

“Lisa. Orion’s sister. She’s lovely.”

“Shame about the kid, though,” Kai mutters. “She witnessed her father’s murder and hasn’t spoken a word since.”

Little Mya’s communication, or lack of it, makes sense now. She’s been through hell, having looked in the eyes of a murderer and survived. That could be worse than dying, having to deal with the fear and terror after the fact. No wonder she’s so withdrawn.

My head’s now snug inside the helmet, and he taps the top. “There. You’re ready.”

“And they couldn’t find the killer?”

“They will. Trust me.”

Kai’s fixing his riding gear as I observe him. He looks vicious, intense, macho, but deep down, he’s really a sensitive guy. I know this because when I’m with him, he knows what I want. No other man has ever been able to read my wants. Not Orion, or Logan. They’re special to me in a different way.

“Kai, why haven’t you asked me yet what Milan has on you?”

He shrugs. “If you know something, I know you’ll tell me.”

I roll my eyes theatrically and raise my voice inside the helmet. “I have a lot of information in my head, but I can only recall it if you ask me specific stuff, otherwise my head’s like an encyclopedia of relevant and irrelevant information.”

He fits his own helmet on and reaches to press something on the side of mine, then does the same to his own. “Now you don’t have to shout.” His voice is coming from inside my helmet.

“Wait, you can pair our helmets?”

“I just did.” He laughs. “You could tell me what you know about my father’s death. He died two years ago in a car accident. Mickey Delgado was his name. He was on his way to meet me when the brakes gave out and his car crashed at 150 miles an hour.”

I look inward, through the scramble of words and images I get in my head when I’m searching for something. “I remember seeing a newspaper clipping of his last photo, taken on October 5th, just before he got in the car. He had a lot of journalists tailing him, right?”

“The fuckers. Half of them were on the force. They wanted to get something on him.”

“Yeah, then that’s not important information. You would’ve known if anything was amiss by now,” I tell him. “Okay, let me think. I read seven or eight emails in a thread between Milan and a woman from later that day. Her email handle was ‘shedevil6,’ so I assume it was a woman. She was upset that your father died. In one of her emails she wrote ‘I never meant for this to happen’ and Milan wrote back, saying ‘Well you have, and you did. This is now your shit. You stepped in it, and you’ll be smelling it for the rest of your life.’”

“Did Milan order the hit?”

“I don’t know. She sounded like she made a mistake and was asking for advice.”

“So, the woman killed my father? You mean to tell me this was a spat with one of his hookers? And what the fuck does Milan have to do with it?” Kai mounts the bike and gestures with his head for me to follow.

“I don’t know.” Climbing behind him on the bike, I lean in and wrap my arms around him. There’s a big protrusion at his back that jabs into my stomach. “What do you have here?” I lift his leather jacket and see a gun tucked into his jeans.

“Let me move it.” He immediately takes it and places it in a compartment at the front. “Now you can get closer,” he chuckles, and lowers my visor.

My body is glued to his torso even before the bike’s revved up. In jeans, with a black t-shirt stretched over his pecs and abs, and a leather jacket on top, he’s such a sight. Too sexy if you ask me, when he’s in full control, straddling this monster of a bike.

My eyes drift down to the ground, where I spot a dark liquid under the bike. “Hey.” I point it out with my index finger. “I think your bike’s leaking.”

“Don’t worry about it, baby girl.” He closes his visor and laughs. “You’d be leaking too if I rode you this hard.”

I don’t have time to respond. I’m not prepared for the sound his motorbike makes when he ignites it, and it shakes me to my core. With a loud blast, we thunder off.

Our ride starts with the sun shining on us, but it gradually disappears behind some gray storm clouds. After the cold wind has been washing over my body for a while, I begin to shake. I wish I had more clothes on.

“I’m cold, Kai.” I try to mold my body against his and take some of his heat.

We stop at the traffic lights and without a word, he gets off the bike, takes off his leather jacket, and gives it to me. I don’t complain. I just try to relax my jaw and stop my teeth from chattering.

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