Ride With Me

Chapter Seventeen

By the time the ambulance and police arrived, the gathering's entire atmosphere had irrevocably shifted. The raw, exhilarating roar of engines and boisterous laughter that had filled the property minutes earlier had been brutally silenced, replaced by flashing emergency strobes, clipped, professional voices, and the occasional involuntary hiss of someone sucking air through their teeth as they watched the grim aftermath unfold.

Ryker, a grotesque parody of his earlier swagger, sat slumped against the side of his truck and trailer, a pathetic figure now. His face was a ruin. His nose, unmistakably broken, had a dark, dried crust beneath it and along his upper lip, already beginning to swell into an angry purple. Cuts, raw and bleeding, crisscrossed his knuckles and cheek, testaments to Knox's brutal efficiency. Yet, beyond these obvious injuries, the EMTs, their faces grim, couldn't find anything immediately life-threatening.

"What happened?" one of the officers, a stern-faced man with eyes that missed nothing, asked, his voice businesslike.

Ryker’s gaze, dulled and unfocused, drifted toward his fallen motorcycle, a mangled testament to the violence. "I wrecked," he mumbled, the words thick and slurred.

The officer studied him, his gaze unwavering. "That's all?"

Ryker nodded, his eyes never once moving toward Knox, who stood a short distance away, a sentinel of raw power, his knuckles bloody and his shirt torn. Not when the officer asked again, his tone suggesting disbelief. Not when the EMTs knelt beside him, their ministrations a stark contrast to the brutality that had just occurred. Not when another officer, clipboard in hand, began asking questions about the race and the alleged accident.

He never said Knox's name.

Not once.

It wasn't that the police believed him. They didn't. The EMTs, observing the disproportionate damage to Ryker’s face compared to the relatively minor damage to his bike, clearly didn't either. But no one in the crowd, a sea of silent witnesses, offered another version of events. Not Diesel, his usual boisterousness replaced by a stunned quiet. Not Felix, his playful demeanor completely extinguished. Not Ben, his face a mask of grim satisfaction mixed with apprehension. Not anyone. The silence, thick with unspoken truths, spoke loudly enough to drown out any official inquiry.

Piper sat on the back of the ambulance, the cool metal a stark contrast to her throbbing shoulder as an EMT examined it. "Dislocated," the woman said, her voice professional but kind.

Piper grimaced, the word itself a harbinger of pain. "Wonderful."

"You're lucky," the EMT stated, her assessment devoid of judgment.

"That's what everyone keeps telling me," Piper replied, a wry edge to her voice.

The EMT gave her a look, a gentle challenge. "Because you are."

The shoulder was reduced right there on the property, the EMT guiding Piper’s arm with practiced hands. The sharp, searing pain made Piper grit her teeth until, with a final, sickening pop, it finally slid back into place. She exhaled shakily, a wave of relief washing over her. "There."

The EMT carefully checked her range of motion, flexing her arm gently. "You're going to be sore."

"I gathered that," Piper said, a small, wry smile touching her lips.

"Bruising will probably get worse over the next couple of days," the EMT continued, her tone informative.

Piper looked down at her arm, a faint red imprint already forming. "I'll survive."

The EMT smiled, a genuine, kind smile. "You're tougher than most."

Piper glanced across the property, her gaze finding Knox. He stood near his motorcycle, his knuckles still bloodied, his torn shirt hanging loosely on his frame. His chest rose and fell heavily, each breath a testament to the exertion, the raw power he had unleashed. The sight brought the memory rushing back with visceral clarity. She had been lying helplessly on the asphalt, the pain a searing shock, when he had reached Ryker. And he hadn't simply hit him once. He had destroyed him. Piper had watched Knox beat him with a terrifying, methodical ferocity until Ben, Diesel, and Felix had finally grabbed him, their combined strength barely managing to haul him backward. Even then, Knox had fought against them, his eyes fixed on Ryker, a primal urge to continue the assault radiating from him. It had taken all three of them to keep him away.

And yet, Piper hadn't been afraid of him. Not once. Even while she watched him become something frighteningly violent, something primal and unleashed, she had never felt as though that violence was meant for her. It had been entirely, unequivocally, for the man who had put her on the ground.

Eventually, the police spoke with the property owner. Everything was in order. The races were permitted, the property owner had the necessary paperwork, and crucially, there was no evidence anyone wanted to pursue further action. With Ryker stubbornly insisting it had been an accident, a simple loss of control, there was little else they could do. The ambulance crew packed their equipment, their movements efficient and discreet. The police left shortly afterward, their flashing lights receding into the distance. And not long after that, Ryker and the remainder of his crew, a shadow of their former selves, disappeared from the property.

The crowd slowly began to breathe again, the oppressive silence lifting like a fog. Conversations returned in hesitant murmurs, the shock giving way to a nervous energy. Engines started, their familiar rumble a welcome sound. People wandered back toward the tents and the dying embers of the fire, seeking a return to normalcy. But the night had lost its carefree edge, the wild abandon replaced by a lingering unease, a memory of the violence that had so abruptly shattered the revelry.

Piper sat inside Knox's tent, her back against the pillow he had given her the night before. Her shoulder throbbed with a dull ache, a constant reminder that her body had not appreciated its abrupt introduction to the asphalt at speed. She heard footsteps outside, the crunch of boots on the dry earth, then the tent flap opened. Knox stepped inside, a stark figure silhouetted against the fading light.

For a moment, he simply stood there, his presence filling the small space. Piper looked up at him, her gaze taking in the changes. His face was different now. The raw fury had faded, replaced by something much heavier, something that settled deep in his eyes. Concern. Guilt. An undercurrent of anger at himself. Before he could say anything, before he could articulate the words she suspected were weighing him down, Piper spoke.

"Can you help me take off the jacket and pants?"

Knox immediately moved toward her, his gaze steady. "Of course."

"And before you start making a fuss—"

"I'm not making a fuss," he interrupted, his voice low and firm.

"You were about to," she countered, a small, knowing smile touching her lips.

His mouth tightened, a subtle concession. "I'll pay you for the damage to your bike."

Knox crouched in front of her, his eyes meeting hers. "Piper, I am not worried about my bike." He said her name softly, a warmth in his tone that was far softer than she had expected. He carefully helped her out of the leather jacket, starting with her good arm. "Slowly," he instructed gently.

"I know," she replied, her voice steady.

He eased the sleeve down her arm. When he reached her injured shoulder, his movements became even more careful, his touch feather-light. "Tell me if I hurt you."

Piper nodded, her breath catching slightly. He guided the sleeve over her shoulder. She winced, a quiet grunt escaping her lips as the fabric brushed against the sore joint.

Knox immediately stopped. "Sorry."

"It's fine," she assured him, though the pain was still a sharp presence.

He waited until the discomfort eased before continuing, his movements deliberate and gentle. Once the jacket was off, Piper leaned back. The immediate relief. Knox moved to her pants. He unbuttoned the leather trousers and carefully eased them down, ensuring not to jostle her injured shoulder. Piper watched him quietly, her gaze taking in his focused concentration.

"I cannot believe he clipped me," she murmured, the words filled with a mixture of disbelief and lingering anger.

Knox's jaw tightened, his expression hardening. "I can." He looked at her, his gaze direct. "I told you last night you were playing with fire. Not everyone here plays by the rules."