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Sure to give a shot of my ass under the pitifully short skirt, I faced away from him before bending over and slipping on my boots to protect my calves—my legs were what put food in my mouth.
Still bent over, I took a gander around my hip at him and asked if he knew what I meant.
Smirking, he looked up from my ass. “Sorry. Were you talking?”
Mission accomplished, I headed to his bike while I crossed my thin purse strap across my chest. Placing my left hand on his left shoulder, I toed the foot peg down, then stepped on it while swinging my right leg over the bike, promptly sitting snug behind Youngin’.
I told him, “Let’s roll.”
He chuckled. “Not even going to ask my name?”
Nope, because he wasn’t who I was after. Nor was he going to tell me his real one anyways.
“Damn, you’re a fiery one, ain’t ya?” He handed me a helmet.
Buckling it on, I didn’t harass him for not wearing one himself. I only admitted I’d been called worse.
His bike clicking into gear, he said, “Lynx. My road name is Lynx.”
Lynx! “Oh shit!”
Bors chuckled from the other side of the door. “Yeah, there’ll be a couple of those ‘oh shits’ tonight.”
I didn’t even reply. Now completely intrigued, I went straight back to reading.
Road names usually have significance and aren’t just a horrid or playful nickname that follows you through your one-percenter life. That’s why I asked him about his.
He lifted his chin. “My mom gave it to me.”
That didn’t truly answer my question, but I pounced on his ‘mommy’ issues by resting my hands on his thighs and purring, “My name is Tierney. It means descendant of a lord. I’d like to rule you tonight.”
Because of who Lynx was to me, I cringed. “Please, tell me this woman isn’t my mother—”
“Read, babe.”
I exhaled and did just that.
Lynx told me, “I’m willing to experience you tryin’, sweetheart.”
We left the deserted parking lot and my crappy car behind.
People can speak of being strong, but sometimes only actions can attest to inner strength. That’s what I told myself as I rode toward another set of horrid conditions.
What I had endured over the years was criminal but always one step closer to finding her.
Pulling through an open, rolling gate attached to barbwire fencing, I felt like I was seeing the norm. Barbwire around a clubhouse? Shocker. What I didn’t expect was the lonely feeling the yard had. Some men were standing by bikes or under a tree toward the back of the property, but there was no laughter. Just cigarettes being smoked and sunglasses staring at the new arrival on the back of Lynx’s bike.
Lynx drove us in front of a building that looked like a Spanish fort, peeling stucco and all, then into a big garage.
After a tap on my thigh, I dismounted the bike, pulling down my skirt that had ridden up. A chill broke across my shoulders as if a ghost was watching me. Trying to avoid Lynx seeing me, I quickly made a cross of protection over my chest.
“Think God will save you here?” asked Lynx as he lit a smoke.
Him no longer wearing sunglasses, I had to swallow a gasp at his grey eyes. They were striking, and so similar to ones I knew well.
Having gray eyes myself, I blurted, “How is she familiar with grey eyes before Lynx?”
“Ivy. Read.”
