Page 106 of Kings Fear No One
“He’s in the adjoining room.”
Logan walks over to the door linking our room with Ozzie’s and pounds a fist to it. Ozzie’s answer sounds garbled through the door.
“I’m up! I’m up!”
“Meet us downstairs in five,” Logan says.
We grab food from the diner like Logan promised last night. We’re heading out to where the bikes are parked when it occurs to me how we’ll be getting home.
It should’ve been obvious considering I rode on the back of one to get to the Lone Star Motel.
But I’d been so out of it, I hadn’t given the ride much thought. I’d clung to Logan like I’d turned into a backpack strapped to him.
I slow up as we reach the polished blood-red paint job and chrome that sparkles under the morning sun. Logan kneels beside the saddlebag, placing our few belongings inside. He juts his chin up at me.
“You good?”
“Your bike,” I say, swallowing. “It’s how we’re getting home?”
“We’re damn sure not walking.”
Ozzie’s already mounted his bike, a chrome beast just as big as Logan’s. “Teysha, tell me you’re not about to yak again.”
“How did you know?”
“I heard you through the motel room wall.” Ozzie winks at me, grinning as he squeezes his handlebars and revs his engine. “Glad you’re feeling better, by the way.”
“Here,” Logan says, standing up. He drops a helmet over my head, then checks that it’s secure enough. “That feel okay?”
“Yes… but…”
“Baby, it’s the only way we’ve got to get home. You’ll be safe, alright?”
Hesitantly, I nod. The helmet feels heavy and large, my neck aching. “Alright. But please don’t go too fast.”
“Move with me and hold on tight. I’ll handle the rest. We’ll be there in no time.”
Logan does that thing again, where he squeezes the skin on my arm in affection. It’s become yet another gesture of comfort. The unease pooled inside me recedes even if only slightly. I climb aboard behind Logan, feeling strangely small on such a large, rumbling bike.
He glances over his shoulder at me one last time before we take off. I understand the silent question he’s asking and tighten my arms around his stomach, confirming I’m ready.
We’re speeding off within the next few seconds. Ozzie goes first, turning out of the parking lot of the Lone Star Motel and the nearby diner. Logan comes up the rear, his bike like thunder as it crashes onto the open roads.
I focus on my breathing. Each breath in and out at a steady pace. My rapid heartbeat gradually slows, returning to normal.
The warm morning air blows past us, surprisingly refreshing on the parts of my skin that are exposed.
We remain behind Ozzie, a wide berth between his bike and ours. Logan’s measured in every move he makes, demonstrating what a skilled rider he is. I’ve placed my hands on his chest, the muscled wall its own form of comfort. He’s firm and invincible.
He’s showing me there’s nothing to worry about.
I relax into the ride. The scenery whizzes by. Along the way, we encounter other trucks and cars. We heat up under the blaze of the summer sun and rising temperatures.
Natural instincts take over my body. I learn exactly what Logan meant by move with him. My body leans in tune with his, my thighs secure astride the back of the bike. Eventually, I’m comfortable enough to let my hands slip to his waist.
I let myself glance at the brown landscape we’re crossing over. The faraway towns we’re passing by. The patches of dead grass and wildflowers and deep valleys that lead out of sight. I’m inundated with the sensory details like the sticky air and the vibration the bike gives.
I’m enjoying the moment for what it is. A couple hours on the back of a Steel King’s bike.
