Page 47 of The Price of Love

“What?” Dimples says. “Some women would kill for a body like yours.”

I might not kill for it, but I’d love to get my hands on it. I know that’s not what Dimples meant, but I can’t help but grin at my thoughts.

Shadow shrugs. Her cheeks are red when she pulls her sunglasses off the top of her head and pushes them onto her nose. “Thanks for the pep talk. Seems like I need them a little more often lately, but I’ll figure it all out.”

“Ya don’t always have to figure it out on your own, you know?” Dimples says.

“Don’t you understand? That’s what shadows do.” She waves her hand in front of her face. “We never make waves, and then we disappear.”

Before Dimples or I can respond, she snatches her plate from the table and starts to slip away.

I don’t want her to leave, so I’ve gotta say something. Then it dawns on me. “Hey,” I call.

Shadow turns.

“I thought this was a poker run.”

She narrows her eyes. “It is.”

“Then don’t we get a poker card?”

Shadow stares at me for a beat before she slaps her hand against her forehead. “Shit. In the mad dash for food, we forgot to hand ’em out.” She points at me. “Hold tight. I’ll let Wiz know.”

She turns again, and this time, I stare at her shapely backside as she walks away, and I don’t even try to hide what I’m looking at.

CHAPTER 21

DIMPLES

After our meal in Galway, we hit Lake Luzerne, and now we’re heading to our halfway stop in Lake George. It’s early in the season, so the town won’t be overrun by tourists, which is good with two hundred bikes rolling in. Tourists spook easily, which isn’t good for business.

With the number of bikes, a tight formation is crucial, but realistically, the pack splinters. It’s not just a ride—it’s choreography at sixty miles an hour. If the Thorns led, it’d be at seventy-five.

Traveling slower, there’s more opportunity to enjoy the buds on the trees. With temps in the mid-sixties and the sunshine, the harsh winter is giving way to spring. I glance over at Storm, who’s holding the handlebars with one hand and resting the other on her thigh. It’s nice to see her relaxed. But it isn’t the scenery. It’s Shadow.

I’ve never seen Storm get snagged on a woman like this. I’m dying to quiz her, but I’ve gotta get her alone. While I love seeing her happy, alarm bells go off in my head.

A Thorn chasing a Grace is asking for trouble. Wiz would have Shadow’s head if she started something with Storm. An unsettling thought eats at me. Wiz could separate them with an order. So why hasn’t she? I also worry about Frost, who’s been taking it all in. I’m not sure how she could use it, but I don’t trust the woman.

I shift into the curve, knees tight against the tank, and let the bike do what it was built to do. The pavement hums under my tires. Halfway through, I feather the throttle and hold my speed.

Storm is next to me with her body in the same position as mine. A faraway smile parts her lips, and I know she’d like to take it at a much greater speed. For me, curves are my meditation, a place to clear my mind, so I’m not bothered by the pace.

When we near the end of the curve, I open the throttle and bring the bike upright and surge forward. Storm is right beside me. At first, I think she’s drifting, but when I look at her face, I see it’s on purpose. I shoot her a questioning look.

At the top of her lungs, she yells, “Isn’t it great to be alive?” At least that’s what I think she said since the wind takes her words.

“You’re insane,” I yell back.

She just smiles and drifts back into position.

My heart warms. It’s been a while since I’ve seen her playful side. After years in the club, her dark, brooding personality waned. So much so that Aces teased that she was gonna rename her Sunny. Of course, that was an exaggeration. Storm will always have an intense, sometimes volatile energy, but since she’s been president, the lighter side of her has retreated.

A mischievous thought runs through my head, and I smile.

As road captain, I signal the pace, so I extend my left arm out beside me with my palm facing the ground. I move it up and down, letting the girls know to slow down. Storm shoots me a look, but I let off my throttle and keep giving the signal.

Once they pull away, I glance at my GPS. Perfect. We’re about nine miles from the city limits. I cut back further on the throttle, willing the bikes in front of us to disappear. Despite the revving behind me, I keep up this pace for a few minutes. When I glance over at Storm, she’s got a smirk on her face. She knows what I’m up to.