Page 107 of Enemy
“He was riling me up!”
I sneer. “You should have stayed the fuck away from me!”
I’m about to drag myself up from the asphalt when strong arms push under my armpits and help me up. I don’t even need to look back to know who it is, because I’d recognize Road’s scent anywhere. I can still sense the cherry tobacco from the pipe he had after breakfast, and only the presence of others keeps me from curling into his chest.
“What’s going on here?”
Martin glares at me. I glare back. I wish I’d punched him harder.
“Nothing,” I say, because yeah, I won’t in fact“go crying to my man”about some bullshit.
Prophet raises his eyebrows. “Let’s go then.”
The other guys whisper, gossiping again, but Road doesn’t leave my side, his hand gliding down my arm to slot in with my fingers. Something about this moment, the safety of feeling his warm skin against mine takes my breath away. I follow his lead all the way to the car. He’s making a point by holding my hand in front of them all.
He’s not letting me go. He’s gay. He’s proud of being with me. So much meaning in that simple gesture.
“I’m driving,” he tells me and opens the passenger door for me.
I don’t even argue this time and get in with a sigh.
“What did he do?” Road asks when he slides into the driver’s seat and buckles up, ready to go.
I groan and roll my eyes as we follow the formation of bikes. “Oh, you know, just talked shit. He was happy to dish it out, but couldn’t handle getting it thrown back at him.”
Road snorts. “Yeah, that does sound like Martin. Sorry I left you on your own.”
“It’s fine. You can’t be my guard dog.” When I stroke his thigh from this side of the car, the ring he gave me is so prominent on my finger it makes me smile.
He groans, clearly unhappy with this. “I know you can hold your own. It’s just that our history with the Butchers makes things difficult,” he says as we drive down the serene road.
I smirk and pat his thigh to lighten the mood. “I can get you a leash and collar if that’s what you’re after.”
His teeth dig into his bottom lip as he tries not to smile. “Is that what you want? To keep me on a leash?”
I stroke the back of his head. “I’d keep you locked away in my shack by the lake if I could get away with it.”
“I can behave. Sometimes. No need to be ashamed of me.”
“You can’t behave if your life depends on it.” I lean in and kiss him on the cheek. “But I love you that way. I might still have my dad’s dog’s muzzle around somewhere at my house if you wanna role play.”
Road blinks. “Well, I didn’t know you were kinky like that.” He seems ready to say more, but his mouth shuts as he focuses on something far ahead.
A plume of smoke.
All at once, I’m hit by a mix of emotions that render me silent.
I know what this means.
I don’t want to believe it.
After a prolonged silence, Road speaks. “It could be anything.”
I nod, and we drive at the pace set by the bikes ahead of us. Itcouldbe anything, but I have a sinking feeling in my gut, and when I see fire engines gathered at the entrance to my property, the seat sucks me in as a part of me dies.
“Those shit-eating mongrels,” Road huffs, but no amount of cursing can undo what’s already happened, and as the bikes all stop close to my driveway, the charred remains of my home come into view.
Firefighters are still assessing the area, but I release my seatbelt with trembling hands, desperate to go see if anything can be salvaged. This is where I grew up. This was my sanctuary. This is where I spent my first night with Road.
