BILLIE
I snap my jaw shut while Thorne gives me an amused but sympathetic look. I shake my head at him and follow Tristan down the stairs.
“What’s with the helmet?” I ask.
“You’ll see.”
Talkative, this one.
We walk outside over to a spot near the end and stop at a motorcycle. Not one of the huge, Harley Davidson, ear-splitting hogs from my old neighborhood, or a moped in fluorescent sport colors, but a stylishly small red and black roadster with the name Triumph on one side. It looks retro, like something Indiana Jones or Captain America would be riding around on during World War II. He helps me adjust the helmet on my head.
“I should’ve known you’d ride in on a motorbike,” I tell him.
He puts his own helmet on. “Definitely. It’s a Triumph Speed 400. It goes a little fast. Are you r
