Wait.
Wide-eyed, I focused on that motorcycle.
I knew what I had to do.
I'd found our one chance.
Stealthily as I could, I darted over to the vehicle. Here, I could almost see the men around the building. One of them was talking softly, I picked out his smug tone.
It had been a few months since I'd last ridden Claudine's bike. The old adage about never forgetting? God, I hoped it was true.
Jumping on top, I straddled the metal beast. The weight of it, the power, infused me with the strength I needed. This was it; now or never. Hesitation would cut the frail string that was taut between Ronin and I.
I wasn't ready for it to be over so soon.
Lighting up the dark blue landscape, I tore around the gas station in a burst of speed. I got my first good look at the men. It was kind of nice, how shocked they appeared. They were nothing but white eyes and open mouths as I bore down on them.
My hope was that they'd scatter. I needed their instinct for saving their own asses to kick in. But the closer I got, the bike roaring between my thighs, the more I worried they'd stand their ground. I didn't want to mow them all down, but if I did, would Ronin be able to dodge?
Move! I thought desperately. Get out of the way!
Like they heard my prayers, they jumped in all directions. I was going so fast by then that I had to swerve so I didn't hit Ronin. He looked surprised, too, but more so...
He looked relieved.
I slammed the brakes, wanting him to get the hint and jump on. I thought he knew my plan, his legs pumping as he ran at me. “Hurry!” I screamed. “We have—” His hand dipped low, snatching my pistol from the back of my khakis.
I think he winked at me, but it was too dark to tell.
Spinning, he dazzled the night with flares from the gun's muzzle. Again, and again, until the three men were down—either hurt or ducking to save themselves. “Ronin!” I pleaded, watching him stride further away.
I understood why when he kicked a biker over, crouching—then standing with his own gun in triumph. Of course, they'd taken his weapon earlier.
Someone moved, but Ronin was ready, his senses on edge. That time, when he fired, I saw the blood fly. I was thrilling with his success, how he'd proven he was the faster man. I should have been sickened.
How quickly was I becoming desensitized to the violence?
“Go!” Ronin shouted, rushing to me at top speed. I choked the bike, hardly waiting for him to hop on. It was a funny change; him, gripping my waist as we spun across the dirt and onto the strip of road. I didn't look back, but I flinched at the gunfire—Ronin's bullets—as he pelted the other bikes, popping their tires. He squeezed the trigger until the gun clicked, empty. They wouldn't be chasing us anymore.
Together, we flew down the pavement.
****
How long did we ride for? I didn't know. Not so long that the recent fueling emptied the tank, but long enough that I was cramping up.
We had just passed a construction site and crossed into Florida when Ronin tapped me on the shoulder, indicating we should pull off the road. I did as he asked, leading the bike off into the brush.
My thighs ached, and even my hands were sore as I turned the motorcycle off. Grimacing, I carefully slid down, testing the strength of my legs. Fuck, I was exhausted.
Bending over, I flexed my joints and just... breathed. We were alive. That would never become a novelty, not to me.
The silence was brief. I didn't know how to explain Ronin's tone; it was soft, velvet in texture... and at the same time, insistent. “Who the hell taught you to ride like that?”
Cracking my back, I let a proud smile take hold. “Claudine.”
From how he laughed, I don't think he was expecting that answer. “No shit,” he said, shaking his head in a slow swing. Tucking his hand into his hip, he offered me my pistol back. “It's out of bullets, but you should still keep it.”
“Right,” I said, tucking the weapon away. Without ammo, it couldn't kill or injure. But, it would still work as a blunt instrument, or to threaten, if I had to.
Folding his arms, he said, “You saved me back there. Thanks.”
His praise made me glow. The heat wriggled from my heart, down to some place much less innocent. “I didn't have any choice.”
“You could have taken my bike and let them shoot me.” The humor had fled. The air felt heavy. “You had that option.”
Breathing in slowly, I took one step his way. My eyes never wavered. “No. That was never an option.”
He stared me down, judging me like I'd never experienced. It was as if the sky had split, a hailstorm rumbling my way and daring me to dodge. Ronin had seen so many of my facets, but whatever it was he was looking for... or expecting... I sensed I kept surprising him.
I liked that.