Ride or Cry

The Bac‌k Roo‍m Has No Windows

RIDE OR CRY

"You know, for a guy who just claimed a random woman in his bar, you're not very good at the whole 'welcoming' thing," Maya said, following Knox through the swinging door. "Where's the welcome mat? The fruit basket? The 'I'm a terrifying biker but I have a soft spot for strays' speech?"

Knox didn't turn around. "You want a speech?"

"I want to know what I just signed up for."

"You signed up for a job, a room, and protection." He pushed open a door and gestured her inside. "That's the deal. Take it or leave it."

"Wow." She stepped into the room, looking around at the cluttered office. A desk buried under receipts. A filing cabinet with a half-empty bottle of whiskey on top. A couch that had definitely seen better decades. The only light came from a single bare bulb hanging from the ceiling, and the only window was painted shut and covered in graffiti she couldn't read. The room smelled like old paper and gunpowder and something else she couldn't quite identify. Something metallic. Something dangerous. "You really know how to make a girl feel special."

He finally turned to face her, arms crossed, those dark eyes fixed on her face. "You want special? I can do special. I can also do honest. You're running from something. You're scared. You're tired. And you're so desperate for a place to land that you followed a stranger into a back room without knowing if you'd come out alive."

She opened her mouth to argue, but nothing came out. Because he was right. The absolute bastard was right.

"That's not a speech," she finally managed. "That's an intervention."

"It's the truth." He leaned against the desk, studying her like she was a puzzle he was trying to solve. The bare bulb cast shadows under his cheekbones, making him look even more dangerous. "I don't do speeches. I do deals. And here's mine—you work the counter. You sleep in the room upstairs. You don't touch my bike, you don't talk to strangers who ask too many questions, and you don't go anywhere alone after dark. In exchange, nobody touches you. Nobody follows you. Nobody even looks at you wrong."

She stared at him, trying to process everything. "And when it's over?"

"When it's over, you leave. No questions. No hard feelings." He paused, his eyes narrowing. "If you want to leave."

"Are you saying I wouldn't want to leave?"

"I'm saying you might find a reason to stay." His voice dropped lower, until it was almost a growl. "I'm saying I'm a very persuasive man."

She should have been terrified. She should have been planning her escape. Instead, she found herself stepping closer, her body betraying her, drawn to him like a moth to a flame. The heat radiating off him made her skin prickle. The scent of leather and cedar and something darker surrounded her.

"That's very confident of you," she said.

"I'm a very confident man."

"That's not always a good thing."

"Neither is running." He reached out, his fingers brushing a strand of hair from her face. The contact was electric, sending a jolt through her entire body. "But you're done running now. You're here. And that's the first step."

Her breath caught at his touch. Her skin burned where his fingers had been. "What's the second step?"

"That's for you to figure out." He pulled back, his eyes still locked on hers. "But I'll be here. Watching. Waiting."

She swallowed hard. "That's not creepy at all."

"Creepy is my brand."

"I'm starting to get that."

There was a knock at the door—three quick raps, then two slow ones. A code. Knox didn't even glance back. "Yeah."

The door opened. Jesse poked his head in, grin already in place. "Boss, the new girl's car just got towed. Figured she'd want to know."

Maya's stomach dropped. "Towed? I was only parked out front for—"

"Town ordinance," Jesse said, shrugging. "No overnight parking on Main Street. Carl the tow truck driver's a real stickler. Also, he's my cousin, so if you want it back, it'll cost you fifty bucks and a six-pack."

"That's extortion."

"That's small-town economy, sweetheart. Welcome to Nowhere."

Knox sighed—a long, suffering sound that suggested he'd had this argument a hundred times before. "Jesse, stop messing with her."

"I'm not messing. I'm bonding."

"Get out."

Jesse raised his hands in surrender and disappeared, but not before shooting Maya a wink that said this isn't over.

The door clicked shut. Maya stared at Knox. Knox stared at the ceiling like he was asking God for patience.

"Jesse," she repeated. "That's his name?"

"Unfortunately."

"And the others?"

"The big one is Tank. The quiet one is Ghost." He paused. "Don't ask about the nicknames. Nobody tells the stories anymore."

"Tank. Ghost. Jesse. And you." She leaned against the wall, crossing her arms. "That's quite a crew you've got."

"They're my family."

"Your family." She studied his face, looking for any sign of weakness. She didn't find any. "And where do I fit into this family?"

He walked toward her, slow and deliberate, until he was close enough that she could feel the heat coming off his body. His presence was overwhelming, consuming. "Right now? You're a stray I've taken in. But strays have a way of becoming permanent."

"Permanent?"

"Ask Jesse. He was a stray too. Now he's my brother." His hand came up to rest on the wall beside her head, caging her in. She was trapped between his arms, his body, his scent. "Tank was a stray. Ghost was a stray. This place has a way of collecting people who don't belong anywhere else."

"And you?" Her voice was steadier than she felt. Her heart was pounding so loud she was sure he could hear it. "Were you a stray?"

His jaw tightened. Something flickered in his eyes—pain, maybe. Or memory. "I was the one who started collecting."

She didn't know what to say to that. So she said, "That's actually kind of beautiful."

He blinked, clearly caught off guard. "Beautiful?"

"Don't let it go to your head." She ducked under his arm, putting some distance between them before she did something stupid. "I'm still deciding if I trust you."

"Good." He smiled, slow and dangerous. "Trust is earned. And I'm willing to earn it."

She walked to the door. Paused with her hand on the knob. Looked back at him. "One more question."

"Ask."

"The blue towel. Ghost's. What's the deal?"

His smile widened. "He's weird about it. That's all you need to know."

"That's not an answer."

"It's the only one you're getting."

She shook her head, but she was smiling. "Goodnight, Knox."

"Goodnight, Maya."

She walked out, but she could still feel his eyes on her. Could still feel the heat of his hand on the wall beside her head. Could still feel the ghost of his touch on her skin, the electric current that had passed between them.

She was in trouble. Deep, deep trouble. The kind of trouble that didn't have a way out. The kind of trouble that felt like coming home.

And she didn't care.

End of Chapter 2