Page 47 of Roses Are Dead
“South.”
I counted to ten. “Where south?”
He chuckled.
“It’s not funny.”
“I’m taking you to an old road dog’s house. He’s going to make you an athame. And his wife? She’s going to get you outfitted for riding. If you’re going to be on the back of my bike tomorrow, I need you looking the part.”
At least that wasn’t a one-word answer. “Was that so hard? And maybe you want to ask next time?”
“Nope.”
I growled in frustration.
He smiled and took the last plate from my hands and set it in the drying rack. Then he turned me to face him.
“Roishin Black, I don’t ask. I’m not that kind of a man. And I certainly don’t beg.” His fingers tightened on my hips.
My pulse sped up. I barely tried to breathe because my whole body braced for trauma.
But he smoothed his hands down and loosened his grip. “I don’t want to scare you, either.”
I took a shaky breath. It didn’t go unnoticed.
“Riding. I should dress warm, right?”
“As warm as you can. I’ll bring some of my thermals down for you. But you want to dress in layers for when it gets warmer, okay?”
That was as close to a request as I’d get. “Understood.”
His jaw shifted. It was his thinking face, and what he was thinking about, he didn’t like. I liked him better for it.
What I didn’t understand was how anyone would enjoy freezing to death on a bone-jarring, butt-numbing torture session across the border to Maryland. We stopped at an ancient farmhouse set on the edge of an aging subdivision. Bear parked the motorcycle near the largest barn and yelled out, “Yo, Fin, where you at?”
A woman stepped out onto the porch and yelled back, “Stop bellowing you oaf. He’s right there in the barn. Can’t you hear the hammer?”
That’s what that rhythmic clang was. Bear indicated I should get off, but I was stiff from riding and almost fell lifting my leg high enough to clear the seat.
“Who’s that with you? She looks half frozen and dressed like you slapped her together with duct tape. Don’t you got any sense at all?”
I liked this woman already. Anyone brave enough to berate my captor had my loyalty.
Bear stuck a thumb at me. “This is Roishin. She’s mine.”
Really now? I glared at him from where I stretched my legs.
“Then treat her better, you fucking idiot. You, Roishin, get your ass in here, I got something to take the chill off.”
She motioned for me to come in the house.
Before I could, Bear stopped me. “Don’t let her get you drunk.”
What?
He didn’t elaborate, instead, locked the bike down and disappeared into the barn where the noise came from.
“Here.” Betty Jo handed me a warm coffee. Then spread her arm to the left to show me the fixings. Including whiskey. It was before noon.
