Ride Me Right

by Michele De Winton

  “But thanks,” she said, her voice finally softening. “For saying that about me being a good mechanic. You’ve never even seen me under a bike.”

  “I heard it in your voice,” he said. “The way you’re so passionate about bikes. You’re like this guy we have on-set. He is a magician. Everyone knows it, even the producers bow down to him, and trust me when I say that never happens when their budgets are on the line.”

  Her sigh wasn’t loud, but he heard it, and somehow, he felt it. “Maybe I should change my name to Rick.”

  “Do you think that’s really it?”

  “A fucking big part of it,” she said. “Martinez was right. I have been whining about starting up a shop for the Hell’s Boys for ages. It’s why I’ve stuck around so long, and I thought it was going to happen one day. For sure. Hade’s been talking about letting women join Hell’s and so I figured the next step would be them letting me in on the bikes. He’s been telling me I have to wait, the boys aren’t ready for their own shop yet, they’re impulsive, arrogant, wouldn’t treat it right, yadayada. And then I find out he’s opening a shop with this guy Rick who’s been here less than ten minutes. A friend of some old guy from out of town. It’s bullshit.” Her face had darkened as she spoke and he clenched his hands in his pockets, wanting to put a hand on her cheek, to try to smooth some of the hurt away despite her flaring into anger at him. She wasn’t wrong about needing to be solid in front of the bikers if that’s how they treated all women.

  “Ignore me. I don’t need them,” she said and he thought he saw her flush a little. Embarrassed that she’d lashed out at him? He hoped so. It would do, for now.

  His stomach gave yet another grumble. “I think we’re forgetting something,” he said.

  Finally, she smiled. “Sorry, I came to get you breakfast. The toast will be cold by now.”

  “Don’t worry about it. I’ll make a fresh batch. Shall I bring it back to the bunkhouse or you want to head upstairs to my room?”

  “Your room. Less chance of seeing Martinez.”

  “Done.”

  When he arrived with toast, coffee, tea, cereal, and a bowl of fruit salad, he found Lucy perched on the edge of his bed watching one of his films on the small TV.

  “Hey. You’re not bad,” she said.

  “Gee, the compliments around here are epic.”

  “No. I mean, you’re good. That’s a big deal. I fast-forwarded through all the other bits.”

  He chuckled. At least she’d moved on from snapping his head off for sticking up for her.

  His small figure screamed across the screen on a bike and slid under a parked tow truck.

  She sucked in a breath. “Shit. How did you do that? And how do you not break every bone in your body?”

  “Practice. Smoke and mirrors.” He took a mouthful of toast.

  Her eyes went back to the screen. “I believe the practice part. Man.” The scene ended and Jake miraculously walked out of the wreckage he’d made of his bike. “So what’s it like?” Lucy asked. “On a set.”

  He looked down at Lucy. Where to start? “What do you want to know?”

  “I don’t know. What’s your favorite part? Stuff like that”—she waved at the screen with the spoon from her fruit salad—“or other things?”

  The question shouldn’t have been a surprise, but it flew into his ear, refusing to offer up a polite answer straight away.

  “Sorry, I don’t mean to be nosy. Or bring up crappy memories.”

  He shrugged. “Perhaps it’s good for me to talk about it.” But he didn’t offer anything more until the roar of the motorbike engine on-screen had died off again. He hardly ever watched himself on-screen. It was unnerving.

  “The rush must be amazing.”

  She wasn’t going to give up and Jake discovered it was okay, he didn’t mind talking to her about it for some reason. He had a gulp of tea and let himself figure out the words to express the reality of stunt work. “It is. The head stuff is crazy. The physics, the mechanics of it, it’s all there, all possible, but there’s only this tiny window to get things right. Miss it and it becomes impossible again.”

  She finished a piece of toast and licked the butter off her fingers. “Sounds intense.”

  “It is. I guess when you know the odds, yet everyone is working against beating them, and then you nail it, it’s a rush. When I moved from being a straight stunt guy to acting that was a whole other thing too. Taking on a character and thinking through what would drive him to do this . . . that gets into your head and screws around with it sometimes.”

  Taking his empty teacup from his hands and putting it beside her, Lucy reached up and kissed him. She tasted of the coffee she’d had instead of tea, of toast, and of passion fruit from the salad. Perfect.

  “What was that for?”

  “Because you talked about your work without frowning.”

  His eyebrows lifted. She was right. He’d dived right back into it without thinking of Sarah for once. There was lots he loved about it, he just didn’t know if he loved it enough to take the risk of making a big mistake again. He pulled Lucy closer and they sat a moment, his arms wrapped around her. His phone pinged and they disentangled.

  She stood. “Bathroom,” she said as he picked up his phone.

  It was his agent. What are you thinking? Be good to get back on the horse.

  Still thinking, he replied then pocketed the phone. That’s what he was doing, wasn’t it? Thinking about it?

  “Who was that?” Lucy said, flopping back down on the bed and cutting off his pondering.

  He paused, trying the thought out in his head before allowing himself to say anything out loud. “I got offered a new job the other day. A pretty amazing one actually. Heading up my own stunt team and a taking on a big acting role too. Big-time actor says he won’t do it without me.”

  Lucy put a hand on his chest. “That’s amazing. Must be nice for the ego to have someone seek you out.”

  “It was. It is.”

  “And?”

  “And what?”

  “Are you going to take it? What did you say?”

  “I’ve been ignoring his calls. Mostly.”

  “What? Why?”

  The stone in his chest wasn’t as heavy as usual when he thought about going back to work. Maybe because he was sitting next to Lucy. Maybe because of the sunshine, maybe . . . who knew? He shrugged. “I don’t know, okay? Shall we move on?”

  “Come on.” Her voice had left its softness behind and was back to its bright insistent beat. He liked that about her. She was straight up. So straight up it was hard to get her to bend her will, sure, but she was focused and clear about what mattered in life, and he liked that. Appreciated her lack of bullshit. “You love it.” She gestured at the TV screen. “It’s there in your bones, like bikes are in mine. I can hear it when you talk, see it on the screen. You’re just scared shit’s going to go down again.”

  “Probably.”

  “Well then, you’ll be fine.”

  “What? How on earth could you say that?” The first filament of anger flickered in his chest, just below his heart.

  But she put a hand there, as if she could tell where his feelings had settled.

  “I don’t mean to diminish what happened. Or say that accidents don’t happen. But that’s all we’re talking about. An accident. One that isn’t your fault. And one that you’ve been beating yourself up over for too long.”

  “Easy to say.”

  “Lots of things are easy to say. Doesn’t mean they’re any less true.”

  There was a long pause. The stunt business wasn’t like real life; the smallest things counted in the fight to keep yourself alive. That was where the thrill came from. And you counted on your co-workers to have your back. All the time. He had failed Sarah, and he didn’t know if he’d ever get over that. But Lucy was right about something else too. He did love his job. And it was threaded through his blood like an extra line of cells.

  “Go
od,” she said and kissed him, softly, on the lips, not lingering long enough for him to taste her properly. But long enough for him to remember how they’d spent the night before and the sharp crackle of desire flickered along his veins. “Maybe I’ll talk more about it one day,” he said. “I think I feel lighter.” He held up his hands and yep, they were steady as the earth.

  “Lighter, huh? Full of breakfast and free for the day. Whatever shall we do next?” This time the kiss was deeper, longer, and when her tongue danced with his, the blood started its virulent surge down. Seemed to be an unavoidable pattern when he was in her company. “I know a good wall just behind us that would look great with you splayed all over it” He growled in her ear when they came up for air.

  “Tempting,” she murmured, coming back to nibble at his bottom lip.

  “Yes, very.” His hand slipped off her shoulder and up under the hem of her T-shirt.

  The hiss of air from her lips urged him on and he let his thumb brush the tip of her nipple. Her bare nipple. Bare. Skin. Oh, man. “I curse the man who invented bras. And I love a woman who’s not afraid to leave hers at home.”

  Her laugh was deep and throaty. More of a chuckle. “Glad you approve of my lack of underwear. Who knew being a lazy ass when I crawled out of bed would get me so far?”

  “There’s nothing under these either?” He pulled at the waistband of her jeans. “How did I miss that?”

  “Probably because you were worried about your stomach instead of what was under my pants.”

  “Oh, I beg to differ, I think I’ll forever be interested in what’s going on under your pants.” Flicking the button at her waist, Jake pulled down the zipper and slipped a hand into her jeans. Hot. Wet.

  Lucy smirked. “Still hungry, are you?”

  “Yes. And done talking.” Stripping off her jeans and then scooping her up, Jake walked over to the wall and as he’d promised, pinned her to it, holding her up next to the open french doors with her arms held tightly by the wrists.

  “Won’t someone be able to see us if they look up?”

  “Figured you’d like the risk of someone catching us,” he said, then put his lips over hers. The only sounds from her mouth were the dark whimpers that came unconsciously from her throat as he dove deeper into her mouth, urging her to open up completely to him. He wanted to claim her. Make it absolutely clear to her that she was the one who had lightened his burden of guilt. It seemed she understood his silent demand when one of her legs wrapped itself around his waist and he felt the unmistakable rhythm of her pelvis grinding against him.

  Releasing one of her wrists, he drew his hand down her body, relishing the feel of her soft skin. Letting his palm smooth the circle of her full breast, she arched her back farther and strained against him. He was enjoying watching her move under him, the sun on her skin, the warmth of it on his face. Smoothing his hand down farther, he traveled her side, then down the front of her thigh. She nipped him on the ear and he smiled. “If that was a ‘hurry up’ it wasn’t very subtle.” As he spoke he slid a finger inside her, luxuriating in the slick feel of her juices that covered it as he drew the digit in and out.

  “Nice?”

  She groaned and used her free hand to guide him a little deeper. Dear god, but she was a crazy burst of freedom in his tight-iced world.

  “Do it. Take me.”

  “Oh, now you’re hungry. And a little greedy.”

  “I need you. Now, Jake.”

  Desire was whipping his blood into a frenzy of demand and he released her, pulling a condom from his wallet on the floor and rolling it on in record time.

  As he lifted her up against the wall again she didn’t waste any time and clenched her legs around him, pulling him right against her center. Held together like that his cock rubbed against her clit and her moan was delicious. It took just about everything he had not to drive right into her, sliding over her entrance until she was just about shuddering with need and he didn’t know if he’d maintain the ability to stand much longer.

  “Please.”

  If that’s what the lady wants . . . He lifted her up higher and sheathed himself in her in one deep movement. Oh yes. When he was inside her he couldn’t quite believe the sensation. She fit him so well. Tight and wet and just so—god—she arched her back and flexed his cock so that bright spirals of bliss ricocheted up him. Catching his breath he withdrew and slammed into her again. “Do that again, whatever it was,” she said. He did and her eyes widened. He had to pause a moment, just to reground himself.

  “Don’t stop now. Right there.” She twisted her hips. “Oh yeah, just there.”

  He picked up his pace, driving away the thought of anything that wasn’t their union from his mind. The future could wait, would wait. This, she, was everything.

  Her muscles started tightening, just as the ache in his balls began to throb through his whole body.

  “Now?” he managed.

  “Oh, yes, yes, now!”

  She crumpled and he followed her over the edge, not having enough left in him to hold back any further.

  Their ragged breathing was a perfect match. But slowly, slowly the sounds of the world around them took over. The roar of motorbikes shattered whatever peace they’d been able to create, and he cupped her butt, allowing her to get her feet back on the ground.

  Withdrawing, he pulled off the condom and tied it neatly in a knot and tossed it in the trash can inside the room.

  Neither of them spoke, allowing the silence to say more than words.

  Unlike their previous encounters they had nowhere to be. No night to disappear into. And he didn’t want her to disappear. What would it be like to call Javier, right now, and say yes to his offer? And then come home to this? To her. “Spend the day with me?”

  Her glance was short, but he saw it, she was pleased. She felt something too.

  Then a new idea struck him. “Come with me.”

  “What?”

  “Work on the film. Work on the bikes. There are a lot of them in this film.”

  If he hadn’t just had her against the wall, the way she bit her lip would have had him pinning her up there again. But her hesitation wasn’t for his benefit, that much was obvious.

  “It’s just a thought.”

  “Thanks. And it’s a good idea. For you, I mean. You should take the job. I’m not being ungrateful . . . I just . . . I’d never thought about working anywhere but a shop. You know. And I want to make it on my own merits.”

  He put a finger to her lips. “Don’t worry, I understand. But think about it?” Dropping his hand, he glanced out the open doors to the parking lot below and his stomach clenched.

  It couldn’t be. No one would be that stupid. Surely? The crackle of flames leaped into view and a leather-clad biker stood up, his back to Jake, lighter in hand. From his higher position, Jake couldn’t make out the man’s features or what was on fire, but it was nothing good. Someone was definitely plenty stupid. “There’s a fire downstairs. We need to get out of here now.”

  A bang echoed around the building and another man joined the first, the two men in black leathers running off, fast.

  Lucy looked down. “A fire? Shit, come on!” Without waiting for him to move, she grabbed her clothes, threw her shirt on in record time, and jumping toward the door as she pulled her pants on, disappeared downstairs.

  9.

  Jake turned to follow Lucy but as the smell of smoke hit his nose, a tingle moved into his hands and he looked down. There was a small tremor in his left hand. The hand that had pulled Sarah out of the burning mess of her bike.

  This is not the same. No, it wasn’t, and Lucy wasn’t Sarah. She was feisty, sure, but not as reckless as Sarah, and she wasn’t riding a bike over a double trailer and hoping for the best.

  Racing down the three flights of stairs to the ground floor after Lucy, Jake took the door to where he figured he might have a chance catching up to the men he’d seen taking off after setting fire to the bike. Banging out
into the open and running onto the street, he scanned the area but there was no one around.

  “They’re long gone. Saw them bailing on a shitty pile of metal when I got down here. The fuckers torched my bike!” Lucy yelled.

  Turning to face the fire, Jake’s world stopped spinning. The men had poured gas over the tires of Lucy’s bike and set them alight, but the bike had fallen over and in turn set fire to what looked like an old wooden pallet at the bottom of the Dumpster. The bin, full of old cardboard boxes and beer crates was going up fast and the black plume of smoke was expanding to fill the area in graceful billows. It was close enough to the hotel to leap the gap with ease if it really got going. Although Briony had done a ton of renovation work, the hotel was still an old wooden building, easy prey for fingers of fire to make short work of.

  “Lucy! Get out of there,” he managed, but a sudden roar of flames as a gust of air was swallowed by the hungry fire, ate his words. Trying to haul a hose toward the fire, she wasn’t getting anywhere. It was stuck on something and wasn’t close enough for its meager dribble of water to make even the smallest dent in the fire. Close. Too close. The wind bore in again and a flame took its first tentative lick of the underside of the roof.

  Move. Your. Feet. He tried. His brain sent the message, and passed it down through his nerves to get his foot, knee, thigh, to move, but his body ignored the message. The heart of the fire called his eyes, pulling them in to the growing white-hot center in the middle, pulsing with greedy intention, sure that it had a hold now, that no one was going to defeat it, that it would consume everything in its path.

  It was as if he were in the fire. The heat started peeling at his skin, the light seared his eyeballs. All of him was melting, screaming, lost in the fury of flames, unable and unwilling to move, to save himself, to save Sarah. Her gas tank exploded in front of his eyes, again and again. He saw the pleading look in her eyes in the flames, saw it black out, saw the curl of her last breath rise up in the smoke in front of him.

  The flames felt the same. Hot. Brutal. Impersonal. The only thing they cared about was feeding themselves, growing, devouring everything around them. Sarah! The black slick hands of dread crept up his back and began pulling at him, drawing him to the ground, willing him to curl up and let the ooze of fear make him a whimpering mess.