Ride With Me

Chapter Seven

The crackling campfire cast dancing shadows, transforming familiar faces into mysterious figures as Piper found herself deeply enmeshed in a tapestry of shared laughter and raucous stories. The conversation, a free-flowing river, had meandered from the visceral thrill of roaring motorcycles to the cringe-worthy sagas of disastrous road trips. It had plunged into the heart of racing mishaps, then surfaced into heated debates over the most offensively palatable beers ever to grace a bar tap.

Chloe and Maya, with their easy smiles and magnetic energy, had repeatedly drawn Piper into their intimate circle around the flames. In this spontaneous haven, the nagging image of Jessica Rabbit had gradually receded, replaced by a refreshing sense of self. She was simply Piper–a woman, a friend, sharing a moment of unadulterated joy with newfound companions, her stomach aching from the sheer force of her mirth.

The outside world intruded with a gentle chime from her phone, a stark reminder that her ephemeral bubble of contentment was about to burst. She retrieved it from the depths of her jacket pocket, her fingers brushing against the cool leather. The name that bloomed on the screen–Jackson–instantly leached the warmth from her smile.

Please answer.

The words pulsed on the screen, a digital plea.

Piper, please. I f****d up.

Then, a third, more desperate message followed.

I miss you.

Her gaze remained fixed on the illuminated rectangle, a familiar knot of anger tightening in her gut. Jackson. The man caught red-handed, with Sadie. The very Sadie he had so casually dismissed, telling Piper not to worry. The same Sadie whose face Piper had rearranged just the previous weekend, leaving her with a broken nose and a split lip. Apparently, Jackson had finally stumbled upon the bitter taste of regret. Piper, however, discovered a surprising and profound indifference. With a decisive click, she locked the phone and let it slide back into her pocket, the digital ghost of Jackson’s desperate pleas sealed away.

She turned her attention back to the hypnotic dance of the campfire. Chloe, Maya, and the others were still lost in their animated conversation, their laughter echoing into the night, blissfully unaware of the temporal shift. Piper’s gaze drifted back to her phone, a silent curse escaping her lips. "Shit."

Chloe’s head turned, her brow furrowing slightly. "What?"

"It's after two," Piper stated, the words a quiet pronouncement.

Maya’s eyes widened, a gasp escaping her. "You're kidding."

Piper shook her head, a small, almost imperceptible movement. "Two seventeen."

"Jesus," Maya breathed, the exclamation laced with surprise.

Diesel, ever the jovial observer, chuckled. "Told you the night gets away from you."

Piper rose, brushing a few stray crumbs from the front of her impeccably tailored leather pants. "I should go."

Chloe’s face immediately fell, a pout forming on her lips. "Already?"

"I have an hour-long ride," Piper explained, her voice calm.

Maya’s gaze flickered towards the inky blackness of the road stretching beyond the property’s edge. "At two in the morning?"

Piper offered a shrug, a gesture that conveyed a lifetime of experience. "I've done it before."

Knox, who had been leaning against a truck, seemingly absorbed in the periphery of their conversation, suddenly straightened. His voice, deep and resonant, cut through the ambient noise. "No."

Piper turned, her eyebrows arching in inquiry. "No?"

"You aren't riding home," Knox stated, his tone firm, leaving no room for negotiation.

Piper raised a skeptical eyebrow. "I've ridden home later than this."

"And that's exactly why I'm telling you not to," Knox countered, his gaze steady and unwavering. His voice wasn't harsh, but carried the weight of absolute finality.

Piper’s eyes drifted back to the road, a phantom panorama of the treacherous journey unfurling in her mind. The country roads, deserted at this ungodly hour, were a labyrinth of darkness. Blind curves that hid unseen dangers, stretches of asphalt that offered no quarter, and the capricious nature of wildlife darting across the path without warning. The absence of other vehicles meant a terrifying vulnerability, a solitary figure against the indifferent night. She knew, with a sinking certainty, that Knox was right. The admission, however, tasted like ash in her mouth.

She turned her attention to the cluster of tents nestled under the starlit sky. "Then I guess I'll stay."

Chloe’s face instantly lit up, a radiant smile replacing her frown. "Yes!"

Maya’s grin mirrored Chloe’s enthusiasm. Piper found herself chuckling softly. "Where will I sleep?"

Knox gestured with a casual thumb towards the tents. "I always carry an extra sleeping bag and pillow."

Piper slowly tilted her head, her gaze traveling upwards to meet his. A playful grin tugged at the corners of her lips. "And I am willing to bet that you did not anticipate offering me those tonight either."

Knox’s ridiculously sexy mouth parted, then closed. For a fleeting moment, the man who always seemed to have an answer at the ready appeared momentarily flustered. Piper watched the subtle struggle play out on his face before a slow smile spread across his lips. "You are quick."

Piper laughed, a clear, melodious sound. "You are just now noticing that?"

Her retort earned another one of his captivating smiles. Piper glanced over his shoulder towards the tents, then deliberately shoved both hands into the back pockets of her leather pants, a gesture of playful defiance. A beat of hesitation. "No funny business?"

Knox's grin widened, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Only if you ask."

Piper’s laughter erupted again, louder this time, a genuine expression of amusement. "You are hilarious, Knox." She stepped closer, her hand reaching out to gently pat his chest. "I think I will be the first woman in history to turn you down."

Knox shook his head, a low chuckle rumbling from his chest.

"Let me go grab my bike," Piper said, her tone shifting from playful to decisive. "I'll take you up on your offer."

"I'll join you," Knox replied, nodding towards the other side of the property. "I left mine back there too."

Piper followed him, their footsteps a rhythmic beat against the now-distant hum of engines and music. They moved through the thinning crowd, a shared understanding passing between them as they headed towards the designated area where their motorcycles were parked. They were halfway to their destination when a voice called out, sharp and urgent.

"Knox!"

He stopped, his body instantly alert.

Piper looked over his shoulder to see three riders hurrying towards them, their faces etched with a grim seriousness.

One of them pointed directly at Piper's motorcycle. "It's her bike."

Knox's eyes narrowed, his gaze sharp. "What happened?"

"The guy she raced earlier," the rider explained, his voice tight.

Piper’s stomach clenched. "What about him?"

"He slashed your tires."

Knox’s expression underwent a subtle, almost imperceptible transformation. There was no outburst, no theatrical display of emotion. His face simply went still, a mask of grim resolve. "You're sure?"

"I saw him do it," the first rider confirmed, his voice unwavering.

"So did I," a second man added, stepping forward. "We were coming to find you."

Knox’s gaze swept towards Piper's motorcycle, assessing the damage. "How long ago?"

"Not two minutes," the rider replied.

Piper’s pace quickened, a surge of adrenaline coursing through her. "Who?"

The first rider pointed across the bustling property. "Ryker."

Piper followed the direction of his finger. A hulking figure, Ryker, stood near the edge of the gathering, engaged in conversation with two other riders, his demeanor nonchalant, as if the events of the evening had been utterly unremarkable. Piper’s jaw tightened. Of course. The sore loser.

She reached her motorcycle and crouched beside it, her heart sinking. One tire was completely flat, a gaping wound in the rubber. She moved to the other, confirming her worst fears. Slashed. Piper closed her eyes for a brief, agonizing moment. "Motherfucker."

Knox knelt beside the bike, his long fingers moving with practiced efficiency over the damaged rubber, inspecting the deep cuts. He rose slowly, his jaw set. Piper looked up at him, a silent question in her eyes. His jaw had tightened, the muscle near his cheek flexing once, a telltale sign of controlled anger. He looked towards Ryker, and Piper recognized that predatory expression. She had seen men wear that look before, and it never, ever ended well.

She stood, a sense of unease washing over her. "Knox—"

But he was already walking, a man possessed. He didn't utter a word, his trajectory aimed directly at Ryker. Piper watched him go, then her gaze swept across the gathering, a wave of understanding washing over her. This. This was the precise reason she always kept moving, always maintained a safe distance. She never stayed long enough to form bonds, never became entangled in other people’s dramas. Her routine was simple: race, collect her winnings, and disappear. No complications, no lingering attachments, no messy entanglements.

Except tonight, she had shattered every one of those carefully constructed rules. And somehow, inexplicably, Knox Connor had become irrevocably woven into the fabric of her self-imposed isolation. "Knox!”

He didn't stop. Piper broke into a run, her boots pounding a frantic rhythm against the packed dirt. She sprinted across the property, her breath coming in ragged gasps. By the time she was close enough to clearly see him, Ryker had already noticed Knox’s approach. The man turned, a slow, mocking smile spreading across his face. "What?"

Knox stopped several feet away, his stance solid, unyielding. "Did you s***h her tires?"

Ryker offered a dismissive shrug. "Maybe."