Page 30 of Corrupted Union

He pushed through the entrance without looking back, expecting me to follow, and walked up to a green and red motorcycle parked on the sidewalk. He threw a leg over. The machine roared to life. It was sleek with smooth jet-black tires and a low profile that denoted this beast of a machine was made for racing. It looked like it had rolled right out of a video game.

“You gonna get on or stare at it all night?”

“Uh, yeah.” I’d never been on a motorcycle, and certainly not something like this. I had no idea what I was doing.

“Step on this peg, grab my shoulders, and throw your other leg over,” he instructed. “Careful not to touch the shit below. It’s gonna be a tight fit. She’s not made for passengers.” Nor helmets, apparently.

I sucked in a deep breath and took the leap. It felt awkward to cling to a stranger’s back, but I planned to hold on for dear life.

“You part monkey?” he called back to me, peering down at my death grip around his middle.

“Shut up and drive,” I hollered back, my cheek on his shoulder. I was pretty sure he chuckled, which I only felt because I’d molded myself onto him like a second skin.

Five minutes and ten Hail Marys later, he parked the bike at a building in Midtown East. He helped me off the bike and led us to the front entrance without ever saying a word. That worked for me. I wasn’t feeling overly talkative. We went to the twenty-second floor, where he pounded on one of three doors on the landing.

It took almost a solid minute before the lock clicked open. Keir opened the door, shirtless with his hair dripping wet. He stilled, eyeing his unexpected arrivals.

“You left this shit at the club.” Torin handed Keir his phone.

“Thanks, man. I was just about to come looking for that.”

“No problem.” He began to turn for the elevator.

“Wait,” Keir called. “You bring her here on the bike?” His voice took on a menacing tone.

“It’s what I had with me.”

“You don’t have any goddamn helmets. Next time, take a fucking Uber if you have to.Jesus.” Keir grabbed my wrist and hauled me inside, slamming the door behind us.

Between my shock at his outburst and the intoxicating cloud of body-wash-scented air teasing my senses, my mind grew hazy and vacuous.

“You were showering.” I spoke the first words that popped into my head.

Keir turned to face me, giving me an unobstructed view of his smooth inked skin taut over toned muscle. I’d known he was tattooed. The designs bled up his neck and covered his arms, some even dipping down onto his fingers. Odds were good that the rest of him was covered too, but the reality of his inked perfection was so much more overwhelming than I’d anticipated. I wanted to trace every crease and crevice—memorize each brightly colored design as he told me their meanings.

By some miracle of God, I realized how unabashedly I was staring and shook free of my trance. “Um, I called. You didn’t answer.”

Keir stared at me with an intensity that stole my breath. It was no wonder he wasn’t overly talkative. His eyes spoke a thousand words in a single look, and right now, they were telling me if I didn’t stop staring at him, I would end up bent over his couch and fucked within an inch of my life.

I swallowed, hard, and kept my eyes on his.

“What was so important?” he finally asked.

Now came the hard part. He wasn’t going to be happy about what I’d done, but that was tough. Having a clear conscience was imperative to me. The girl was important to me, and I’d needed to see her one last time.

I squared my shoulders and relayed all that had happened as factually and unemotionally as possible.

Keir could have passed for carved granite, he stood so inhumanly still. When I was done, an abyss of silence stood between us until he shattered the air with a roar.

“Fuck!”

He turned his back to me and lowered his head. Meanwhile, contrition and conviction started a raging battle in my head. I felt bad for complicating things, yet unapologetic for following my heart.

“This doesn’t have to involve you,” I murmured. “I can go.”

“Don’t. Fucking. Move.” He growled each word but still didn’t face me.

From behind, I watched his rib cage expand and contract with practiced intent.

---