J. Salsbury - Fighting to Forget

She doesn’t answer me, probably because it’s a stupid-ass question.

“You need air.” I almost slap my forehead at what a jackass I must sound like.

She forks her fingers into her hair. “No shit.” Her mumbled words are barely audible and make me smile.

“What I mean is why don’t I give you and your motorcycle a lift to the gas station so we can get you back on the road?” I don’t know why I’m offering. She could take a cab home and get her boyfriend to help her in the morning, assuming she has a man. From the looks of this chick, all legs and the kind of hair that makes a man want to bury himself inside it, she’s gotta be taken.

But why would she be here alone in a dark alley with a flat and no one here to help her if she did? Fuck! If I had a girl, I’d spank the hell out of her if she put herself in this situation.

Her eyes search mine as if she’s trying to decipher the seriousness of my offer. “You want to help me?”

“Unless your man is on the way to pick you up, I don’t see you’ve got any other options.” I motion to the sign in the alley that clearly reads “No Overnight Parking.”

“I don’t have one.”

“Have one what?”

“A man, coming for me.”

“Well then”—I hold out my arms and bow—“looks like I’m your guy.”

Her eyes go wide and she steps back, bumping into her bike.

What’s up with this chick?

~*~

Mac

Calm down. Don’t freak out. Yes, the object of a fourteen-year obsession is standing less than two feet away. And he’s talking to me. Talking. To me!

At first I thought he’d recognized me until I remembered I’m no longer the frizzy redheaded girl from his past. No matter how many times I see my reflection in the mirror, I still feel like Gia when Rex is around, scared and insecure.

“Really, you don’t have to do this. I can call my roommate. She can—” I groan when I remember that she’s working at Zeus’s until six am. “Fuck.”

He chuckles and rolls his lip ring around a couple times. “Listen, it’s not a big deal. I have a ramp in the back of my truck and straps to tie it down.”

I stare at him. How is it that a boy who’s been through all he has can grow up to be such a genuine man? He doesn’t walk around with attitude, goes out of his way to take pictures with fans, and helps strangers he meets in the alley. Amazing.

He shifts on his feet. “Look, I’m not some psycho. I promise. Besides, we basically work together. Go tell Mario I’m giving you a ride so that if you come up missing they’ll know it was me.”

He sounds so serious I can’t help but choke on a laugh as it bubbles up my throat.

He cocks one eyebrow. “That a yes?”

“Okay, as long as you promise not to leave me in a ditch somewhere.”

A slow curl of his lips has me sucking in a breath. My heart races. Damn, he’s gorgeous when he smiles.

“Deal?”

“Deal.”

We stare at each other, me taking him in and him probably trying to figure out why I can’t drag my eyes away.

He clears his throat. “Right, well, I’ll pull up the truck. Why don’t you run in and let Mario know who you’re leaving with.”

I nod and he walks toward his truck. I do as I’m told, and think there isn’t much I wouldn’t do if he asked.

After a quick conversation with Mario, I’m back in the alley. Rex has my bike loaded into the bed of his midnight-blue Cadillac pick-up. He’s standing on the huge truck tire, pulling one of the ratchet straps tight so that the bike stays upright. Transfixed, I admire the bulging of his triceps and the lithe way he commands his body as if he knows every single inch and all it’s capable of. He reaches over the bike, and his shirt lifts a few inches, giving me an unobstructed view of his side and abdomen. Holy shit.

I break out in a sweat. My mouth goes dry and my belly tumbles.

“Hey.”

The sound of his voice pulls my attention.

“You ready?” He hops down from the truck tire and opens the passenger side door. With a sweep of his hand, he bows. “Your chariot awaits.”

I laugh and close the space between us. Stopping just before I hop up into the truck, my eyes find his. “Thanks.” For finally noticing me.

“No problem.” He motions for me to get in. “Load up, princess.”

He called me princess. My heart stumbles, tripping over itself, and I jump in. Once inside the truck, I watch from the rearview as he checks the straps one last time. I take a deep breath and laze in the scent of fresh cut wood and citrus that permeates the cab.

This is happening. I’m in Rex’s truck and we’re talking. My heart pounds so hard I hear it in my ears.

Do I tell him who I am? Right now?

Oh, hey, thanks for the ride and by the way I’m your foster sister, you know, the one who promised to protect you and failed. Ugh. I rub my temples. No, I can’t just blurt it out. I don’t know how he feels about me. Maybe he thinks I knew what was going on in that basement and didn’t do anything about it. He could hate my guts. He’d have every right to. Oh God. My stomach churns. What if that’s what he thinks?

The truck shifts as he jumps off the back and walks around to the driver’s side.

He swings open the door and slides in. “CB900. Nice ride. What year?”

Be calm. Don’t blow this. “1980.”

He turns the ignition. “Classic.”

“Hardly.” I pick my nails and look out the window. “More like a classic piece of shit.”

Backing out of the alley, he turns onto the main road. “It’s a flat tire, Mac.” He chuckles and the sound sends warmth through my chest all the way to my fingertips. “I found two nails in the front tire. The bike’s good; it’s where you’re riding that’s fuckin’ it up.”

My cheeks flame. The construction development. That must be where I picked up the nails. Shit. I was so consumed with Rex and his sleepover guest I wasn’t paying attention to what I was riding over. “Point taken.”

“Airing up the tire will do no good. You’ve got holes to patch.”

“What? So . . . um, no gas station?”

He stops at a red light and shifts his body slightly to face me. “No. But I promise to bypass the ditch and drop you at home. Where do you live?”

Oh crap! He’s going to see where I live. Not so much where I live, but how close I live to him. “Um . . . I’m off of 67^th and Kelmore.”

He narrows his eyes. “No shit? That’s by me.”

“Huh.” I laugh and it sounds completely unnatural. “Crazy.”

Stalker. Psycho. Yes, yes, and yes.

Turning right at the light, he heads toward my house. “How long have you been working at The Blackout?”

“Not too long.” I swing my gaze out the side window.

“Nice.”

My knee is bouncing and I can’t think straight. He’s trying to make small talk, and the polite thing to do would be to ask him something surface, but I know everything about him already. Except . . .

“Is your girlfriend cool with you taking home strange women you pick up in dark alleys?” I don’t turn my head to see his expression, afraid of the softness I’ll see in his eyes at the mention of his girlfriend.

“Not sure. I don’t—” His cellphone rings.

I turn just as he nabs it from the center console. What was he about to say?

“Bitch. Thanks for helping us break down and load up.” He sounds half angry, half annoyed. “Yeah, well I hope the pussy was worth it.” He cringes and looks at me apologetically.

I smile. I’ve lived around instability my entire life, been around my fair share of guy talk. Nothing shocks me anymore.

“Right, I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Later.” He ends the call. “Sorry about that.”

“Don’t sweat it. I work in a bar, remember?” I notice where we are. “Oh, take a left here. It’s the ninth house on the right.”

The truck inches down the street. “Nice hood.”

“Thanks. It’s all right, except all the houses look the same. For the first month I lived here I kept pulling into the wrong driveway.”

“I can see that.”

We round to my house, and before the truck comes to a stop, my blood turns ice cold and my muscles tense. Shit, fuck, shit!

Hatch’s Harley is parked in my driveway.

Rex

I pull up to Mac’s house and turn into the driveway. “Sick. Is that a Fatboy?”

She doesn’t answer, and she’s sitting up so straight her back is off the seat. Her eyes are huge and staring at the Harley illuminated by my headlights. I throw the truck in park when the reality of what’s probably going on hits me.

Doesn’t have a man, my ass.

Even if they’re broken up, she’s obviously more than a little unnerved that I’m bringing her home with that dude here.

I turn toward her still-frozen frame. “It’s cool, Mac. I’m not a threat. Let me unload your bike and I’ll be out of here.”

Her head jerks and she swings her gaze to mine. “What?”

I nod to the Fatboy. “Your man, right? I don’t want to cause you any problems.”

“Ew.” Her face twists as if I offered her dog shit. “No, he’s not my boyfriend. He’s kinda my roommate’s.”

The way she stiffened when she saw that bike, there’s no way her and Harley guy don’t have history. I tilt my head and study her, trying to decide whether or not to believe her. No, she’s lying. Unless . . .

Adrenaline races through my veins and I squeeze the steering wheel to keep from making fists. “This dude dangerous? To you and your roommate?”