Ride With Me

Chapter Fifteen

The afternoon sun, a molten orb beginning its slow descent toward the horizon, bathed the property in a warm, golden light. Knox wheeled his motorcycle out from beneath the comforting shade of the tents, its polished chrome gleaming in the softened rays. Piper stood beside him, her gaze meticulously scanning the machine, her brow furrowed in concentration. She had already studied it from a distance, her eyes assessing its lines, its power, its potential. Now, she was dissecting it up close, her focus so intense it made him wonder what intricate calculations were unfolding in her mind.

"You're sure about this?" Knox asked, his voice a low rumble, the question hanging in the air between them.

Piper’s gaze flickered from the motorcycle to his face, her eyes clear and steady. "You offered."

"I did," he confirmed.

"And I accepted," she stated, the simple declaration leaving no room for further debate.

His mouth twitched, a subtle smile playing on his lips. "You really don't waste much time, do you?"

"Not when there's a motorcycle involved," she replied, her voice laced with a playful defiance.

Knox laughed quietly, a genuine sound that surprised even himself. He handed her the helmet, its sleek black shell cool against her palm. "Take it easy the first few runs."

Piper slid the helmet over her head, the familiar weight settling around her. "I always do."

Knox gave her a look, a silent testament to his skepticism. She laughed behind the visor, the sound muffled but still evident. "Fine. I usually do."

He shook his head, a fond exasperation in his eyes, as she swung a leg over the motorcycle. The machine settled beneath her weight with a soft sigh, molding to her form as if it had been waiting for her. Piper adjusted her position, placing both feet firmly on the ground, her hands wrapping around the grips.

She didn't immediately start the engine.

Instead, she tested the clutch, a delicate dance of pressure and release.

Once.

Twice.

She rolled the throttle slightly, feeling the subtle resistance, then again, gauging the response.

Knox watched, his gaze steady, his posture relaxed but attentive. "You good?"

Piper nodded, her eyes bright beneath the visor. "Yeah."

She pressed the ignition. The engine roared to life, a powerful, resonant growl that immediately drew attention from around the property. Conversations slowed, heads turned, and the ambient hum of the gathering quieted, momentarily silenced by the potent sound. Among those who looked up was Ryker. He stood several yards away, leaning against his own motorcycle with his arms crossed, his expression a mask of watchful anticipation. Piper, however, didn't appear to notice him.

She eased the bike forward, her movements fluid and controlled. The first run was a study in caution. She accelerated gradually, shifting through the gears with practiced ease, and brought the motorcycle back around to where Knox stood. The second run was faster, the engine’s roar a little more aggressive, her control even more assured. By the third lap,

Knox stopped leaning casually against the truck and began watching more carefully, his earlier relaxation replaced by a focused intensity. Piper was learning his bike. Fast.

She returned to him after another circuit, pulling off her helmet, her hair slightly damp from the exertion. "There's something weird with the throttle."

Knox frowned, his immediate concern evident. "Weird?"

"Not bad," she clarified quickly. "Just delayed. When I roll on from the second gear, there's a tiny hesitation before it catches."

"I've never noticed it," Knox admitted, his gaze shifting to the motorcycle, a flicker of surprise in his eyes.

"I did," she stated simply. She climbed off the bike and crouched beside it, Knox following her lead. Piper reached toward the throttle housing, her fingers tracing the familiar contours. "Can I?"

He nodded. She examined the cable, then the housing, her fingers moving with a delicate precision over the assembly. "Your throttle cable has too much slack."

Knox crouched beside her, his brow still furrowed. "That's factory."

"Maybe," Piper conceded, her gaze thoughtful. "But it doesn't need to be." She reached for the adjuster, her fingers already assessing the best way to fine-tune it.

Knox's eyebrows rose. "You know what you're doing?"

Piper gave him a look, a direct challenge. "Do you want me to answer honestly?"

His mouth curved, the ghost of a smile playing on his lips. "Probably not."

With practiced movements, she made a small adjustment. Then another. She twisted the throttle, feeling the change in resistance. The response was immediate, a crisp, clean engagement. Piper nodded, a look of satisfaction on her face. "There."

Knox reached out and tried it himself. His expression changed, a subtle shift that conveyed immediate recognition. "That is smoother."

"Yeah," she confirmed. He rolled the throttle again, testing the newfound responsiveness. Piper stood, brushing a speck of dust from her jeans. "It was probably costing you on launches."

Knox looked at her, his eyes narrowing slightly. "How much?"

"Maybe a fraction of a second," she estimated, shrugging.

"A fraction is enough," he stated, the intensity in his voice revealing the competitive nature that lay beneath his calm exterior.

"At the line?" she prompted. She shrugged again. "Especially if you're racing someone who knows how to launch."

Something clicked behind Knox’s eyes, a dawning realization. His mind flashed back to last night's race, to his own immediate advantage off the line. He had gained the lead instantly, a testament to his superior bike control and launch technique. But Piper had stayed on the throttle, her relentless pursuit eventually allowing her to overtake him. He had assumed she had simply been willing to push harder, to risk more. Now, looking at his motorcycle, then at her, a new understanding began to form.

"You think that caused the difference?" he asked, his voice softer now, tinged with a newfound respect.

"I think it didn't help," she replied, her tone matter-of-fact.

Knox stared at her for another moment, the implications sinking in. Then, he laughed softly, a sound of genuine amusement. "You found something on my bike that I've ridden for years."

Piper smiled, a quiet sense of accomplishment warming her. "Apparently."

"You might have cost me the race," he murmured, the words carrying a playful accusation.

"Technically," she corrected, her smile widening, "you cost yourself the race."

He shook his head, a gesture of amused surrender. "I don't know whether to be impressed or offended."

"Impressed," she declared firmly.

"Definitely impressed," he conceded, his gaze holding hers.

A few yards away, Ryker’s expression had darkened, a thundercloud forming on his face. He had been watching the entire exchange, his initial smugness replaced by a growing frustration. He pushed away from his motorcycle, his posture radiating aggression. Then, he called across the property, his voice sharp and challenging. "Jessica Rabbit!"

Piper turned, her gaze meeting his. Ryker held up a thick handful of cash, the bills fanned out between his fingers. "How about we settle this?"

The crowd immediately began to gather, drawn by the escalating tension. Piper looked at the money, then at Ryker, a weary sigh escaping her. "We can race now and just get it over with."

A cheer erupted from the crowd, a wave of excited anticipation washing over them. Ryker grinned, his earlier frustration momentarily forgotten. "That's what I wanted to hear."

Piper looked toward Knox, her eyes seeking his approval. He said nothing, his gaze fixed on Ryker, his expression unreadable. He was watching, measuring, assessing. Piper pulled her helmet back on, the familiar weight a comfort. "One race."

Ryker laughed, his voice laced with a mocking challenge. "Scared to go for the money?"

Piper looked at the wad of cash in his hand, then back at him, her gaze unwavering. "No." She shrugged, a casual dismissal of his insinuation. "I already took sixteen grand from you. I'd hate to leave you broke."

The crowd exploded. Someone nearly dropped a beer, fumbling with the can. Felix doubled over with laughter, his shoulders shaking. Diesel slapped Ben on the shoulder, a hearty, booming sound. Even Chloe and Maya were laughing, their faces alight with amusement. Ryker's face turned crimson, a mask of humiliated fury.

Knox didn't laugh. He simply watched Ryker, his expression gone completely unreadable, a predator observing its prey. Piper climbed onto Knox's motorcycle, the engine growling beneath her, a powerful promise of speed. Ryker mounted his own, his movements jerky with suppressed rage. The crowd surged toward the strip, eager for the unfolding drama.

Piper rolled toward the starting line, settling into position. Her hands tightened around the grips, her fingers finding the familiar comfort of the controls. She could feel the difference immediately. The throttle was sharper now, more responsive, precisely as she had adjusted it. Exactly what she wanted. The starter stepped forward, his presence commanding silence from the expectant crowd. Piper lowered herself over the tank, her body becoming one with the machine. The flag dropped.

She launched.

The motorcycle surged forward, a bolt of raw power unleashed.

Ryker launched beside her.

For the first second, they were neck and neck, a blur of speed and noise. Then Piper twisted the throttle. The bike responded instantly, a surge of acceleration that pushed her forward. Ryker tried to match her, his engine screaming in protest, but he couldn't. Piper pulled ahead by half a length. Then a full length. Then an entire bike. The crowd erupted, a deafening roar of excitement. Piper never looked back. She crossed the finish line first by a comfortable margin and immediately began slowing, the grin beneath her helmet spreading wide.

She had done it.

Again.

She reached the end of the strip and began turning the motorcycle around, heading back towards the cheering crowd. Ryker came through behind her, his face a mask of fury. Piper was already angling the bike back toward the spectators when Ryker suddenly accelerated.

Knox saw it. The movement was deliberate, a malicious lunge. His entire body went rigid. "Ryker!" he yelled, his voice cutting through the noise.

Too late.

Ryker's motorcycle clipped Knox's, a violent, calculated impact. The force sent her bike sideways, throwing Piper off balance. She went down hard, metal scraping violently against asphalt, his motorcycle spinning beneath her before sliding several yards down the strip. The crowd screamed, a collective gasp of horror.

Knox was moving before the motorcycle had even stopped sliding. He grabbed the nearest bike without asking permission, kicked it to life, and tore down the strip, a blur of focused rage. Behind him, Diesel, Felix, and Ben surged toward Ryker. Diesel reached him first, his large hand grabbing the back of Ryker's jacket and yanking him off his motorcycle.

"What the f**k was that?" Diesel bellowed, his voice raw with fury.

Ryker stumbled, his bravado vanishing. "I didn't—"

"Don't." Ben shoved him backward, his voice tight with anger. "You f*****g did." Felix stepped in beside them, his expression stripped of every trace of humor, his eyes hard. "You just f****d up."

Ryker looked toward the far end of the strip, his bravado crumbling completely as he saw Knox drop his borrowed bike and run the last few feet toward Piper. She lay beside the fallen motorcycle, her helmet still on, her gloved fingers twitching against the asphalt.

"Piper." Knox’s voice was a strained whisper.

She groaned, a soft sound of pain.

He dropped to his knees beside her, his hands moving with practiced care over her arms, her shoulders, her legs, checking for obvious injuries without moving her unnecessarily. "Don't move."

"I'm okay," she managed to say, her voice muffled by the helmet.

"No, you're not," he stated, his voice grim. "Where does it hurt?"

"My shoulder," she admitted, a wince in her voice.

Knox's jaw tightened, his eyes flashing with a dangerous glint. "Anything else?"

"My pride," she confessed, a flicker of her usual wit surfacing despite the pain.

He stared at her for a long moment, his gaze intense. For one second, she thought he might actually laugh, a brief release of the tension. He didn't. His eyes lifted toward the crowd, then shifted, his gaze fixing on Ryker, who was being held back by Diesel and Ben. Something cold and implacable settled over Knox’s face, a transformation that was chilling to witness. Piper saw it, and for the first time since she had met Knox Connor, she understood exactly why everyone listened when he spoke, why his presence commanded such respect. Because whatever came next, whatever transpired in the moments that followed, it wasn't going to be a race.