Kissing.
Holding Ronin tight, I screwed my eyes up and promised myself that no matter what happened, I wouldn't forget that moment. It had been a fraction of my mortality, but it would remain fuzed into my very atoms until I found my end.
There was a cruelty to all of this. Ronin had found his way into my life and brought so much destruction, even while my own path had led me here. Pain swallowed and stalked us, like we were planets caught up in orbit. But without such pain and tragedy, we would never have met.
Destiny deserved a punch to the jaw.
For awhile we just rode, my ears working to hear anything over the constant rumble. I glanced back several times, anxious to see if there were lights behind us. I never saw anything, but if I was comforted by this fact, it still took Ronin hours before he agreed to slow down.
It was the needle waving at us on his gas tank that had the final say.
The rickety, self-serve gas station we pulled into would have fit better in a horror movie. I kept expecting some guy with a chainsaw to stumble out of the bushes, ready to slice us up.
A hand touched my shoulder; I jumped a fucking mile. Ronin smiled, but he had the look of a man putting on a show. “Go inside, pay for the gas and grab us some water.”
Taking the money he offered, I clutched it. “Those men back there, who were they? Guys with old grudges?” He'd told me people would be after him, but to face it so suddenly...
He turned, focusing on the pump. “They weren't the Girl Scouts.”
I looked at him hard.
Ronin shrugged with his famous half smile. “Honestly, it's hard to even narrow it down.”
The back of my tongue burned. I wanted to argue, convince him to stop leaving me in the dark. One step forward, two steps back. That was us.
Sighing, I walked across the dim lot, making sure the pistol I had from Roach's place was still hidden in the back of my pants. I didn't doubt that anyone running a business like this would take one look at my weapon and aim his own at me.
The door jingled, a slim, leathery man looking my way. His bushy brows waved upwards. “Ho ho,” he said, revealing too few teeth. “Late hour for company. Need directions, Missy?”
“Nope.” I snagged two cold water bottles from a dusty cooler, setting them and the cash on the counter. “Just these and some gas. Thanks.”
Nodding, the hard nub on his turkey-throat wiggling, he grabbed the money. I tucked the waters in my purse, wiping my palms on the front of my jacket. He followed the motion, acting overtly creepy. The man was about to say more, and there was a good chance I didn't want to hear it—but a new noise shut him up.
Engines.
Together we turned, my blood going electric. “Friends of yours?” the man whispered, turning pale as three motorcycles rolled into the lot.
“No,” I said softly, reaching back to touch my gun's hilt. “I think you should call the police. Those men...” I didn't bother to finish my warning. I watched as the clerk ducked, flying into the back room faster than a man of his age had any right to move.
I knew the sound of a lock when I heard one.
Shit.
Terror made me walk on stiff knees, my vision heightened from my adrenaline. Through the window, I could see that the men had dismounted. He must have run for cover when he heard them coming down the road, because I had to search a moment before I spotted him across the dirt.
I didn't know if his plan had been a surprise attack, or just to gain some distance. Whatever he'd been hoping for, the bikers still migrated in his direction, quickly surrounding him.
They were out of the line of sight of the front door. I took some comfort in knowing I could go through, unseen. But peeking past the cracked, dusty glass, I was trembling at the idea of letting Ronin out of view, even for a second. The idea that I might turn away, and in that instant, hear the gunshot that finished him off...
It turned my stomach to ash.
Can I shoot them from here? Pulling out the pistol, I debated my chances. The angle was bad, and the three men were too close—I might hit Ronin. He had his hands in the air, that familiar smile glistening as he said words I didn't hear.
I imagined him trying to talk them down.
Their sneers said he would fail.
Summoning my confidence, I hurried out the door. The air was chill, the same as when Ronin and I had shared our kiss. I could still taste him, and that was torture.
I won't let him die. Not without trying to save him.
It was as close to a promise as I could make.
Looking around, I studied the scene. The lot was barren; nothing but the single, rusted pump and Ronin's bike sitting beside it. He'd started to fuel up, but now, the nozzle dangled in the dirt, the acrid scent of gasoline permeating my nose.
The keys dangled in the ignition. Had he planned to ride away, to abandon me? Or to lead them away for my benefit? The men had rolled up so abruptly, he'd clearly chosen another option, leaving the bike where it was.