Page 4 of Desert King

I grimace as he got on and motioned for me to straddle the bike behind him. I knew what he meant. I didn’t have much water, a running car, or any cell signal. It was either go with the Scorpions or death out here. I’d beaten death already, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t still chasing me.

My hands check the knot securing the bandana around my face. He’s so big. I can’t fit my arms around him. The best I can do is hug the shit out of his back and grip the sides of his hips.

“Damn, tiny thing. You’re gonna fall off. Grip my hips harder, hold on to the side of my jeans and hook that chicken bone arm of yours as tight as you can around my waist.”

“Chicken—what?” You, you ogre! You buffoon!”

“Darlin’ if you’re gonna survive out here, you’re gonna need stronger fighting words than that.”

And then we’re off.

Through the make-shift mask, I inhale the tangy smell of man, leather, and oil. My tiny arms hug him for dear life. We cut through the air and fly. The unforgiving desert sun beats down, but as the miles erase between us and civilization, I realize this is the first moment in years where I feel alive. I get it now—the fascination with motorcycles. You feel like flying. Weightless. Every fear and worry rolls off you and into the wind. It gets carried to the land of ‘giving zero fucks’, and I hope that’s where all mine will stay.

I have no idea how long we’ve been riding, but the sun sinks low in the sky. Finally, a few metal signs appear. Then the mountains are upon us. Huge, brown-black and imposing, it seems as if we’re going to crash right into them, but at the last second, the road bends and we go between them instead. Glittering city lights shine like gemstones in the twilight.

The mountain range hid the city. The pack of bikers pulls off the first exit, zooming through backstreets then enters a dirt lot.

He wasn’t kidding.

The flashing neon pink and blue sign screams “TRIPLE XXX.”

My legs are stiff and feel like jelly. I stumble a bit as I get off the bike, much to the enjoyment of the giant whose body I practically imprinted on during the ride.

I’m about to tell him to fuck off now that I’m safely in civilization when my breath catches. Not by some disease or medical condition either. He removes his handkerchief and sunglasses, revealing the most brutally male face I’ve ever seen.

It’s not the handsome face described by a hero in a love story. But it’s breathtaking, nonetheless. His nose is slightly crooked, and there is a bump near the bridge. It must have been broken a few times. His jaw is square, and his face a deep tan. Several small scars tell only some of his story. His eyebrows are two thick slashes over large hazel eyes. I feel the smirk before I can stop it. His lashes are long, the tips a light gold.

Angel eyes on a badass biker.

“What?”

“Your face.”

“What about it?”

“It’s a contradiction.”

He moves close, blocking everything in my line of sight but him. He shakes his head. “You have no idea who you are fucking with?”

“You’re right, and you know what? I don’t care. Thank you for the ride.” I turn, but he grabs my elbow jerking me around.

“Nothing about me is angelic sweetheart and you best remember that. You owe the Bloody Scorpions now.”

I shrug, lifting my chin. “All I have is my dead car and a trunk load of size six jeans and knick-knacks. My skinny, chicken ass isn’t worth a dime according to you, remember?”

The corners of his full mouth tilt as he reaches into the back pocket of his jeans for a pack of cigarettes. Taking one out, he puts it between his lips, “I’m sure you must be good for something, sweetheart.”

I shrug. “I’m the most non-descript woman you’ll ever meet.”

“Somehow, I doubt that, sugar. You might be as pale as a ghost with zero tits and ass from what I can see, but you’ve got a backbone. Be careful who you show it to.”

My parched lips shut, tasting nothing but dust and bitterness. “Do they at least have anything good on tap in there?” I gesture toward the TripleXXX. But I don’t wait for his answer. He cups his cigarette to light it and I have no interest in having my lungs freak out again.

Squaring my shoulders, I push open the heavy red door, entering the dimly lit room. Five feet in, I’m stopped by a bear of a man. “There is a twenty-buck cover charge.” He opens a palm.

“Are you serious? If I wanted to see tits and ass, all I’d have to do is look in the mirror.”

“She’s with me.”

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