Page 50 of The Belle and the Biker

I spend the next forty-five minutes tooling around the winding roads of Tranquil Bay and loving life. The rushing wind makes me feel alive. I slow down on a beachside roadway to enjoy the crashing surf and the tang of salt in the air.

When I return to the trailer, I park the bike out front and knock on the door.

"It's me, don't shoot!" I yell before opening the door and stepping inside. With Tawny, you never know.

I'm looking at Tawny and a brunette stranger. Savannah's smiling so hard and so wide it looks painful.

"Well, all traces of the old Savannah are gone. My work is done here," Tawny chirps. "I'm going to head over to Sparky's. One of the girls there said she'd give me a ride and show me the sights, and then I've got to pick up some groceries. Later, beeyotches."

"Thank you sooo much," Savannah says to Tawny, all sweet and charming. I can tell what she's really thinking, though.

The minute Tawny leaves, Savannah spins to glare at me.

"Laugh, and I'll kill you."

It takes all my self-control to make my mouth behave. "I wouldn't dare laugh at Banshee, the biker babe. She might cut me."

Savannah still looks gorgeous. She could never look anything less than beautiful. This just isn't her style. Her lips are hot pink and glossy. Her eye shadow is silver. Her dark-blonde hair is hiding under a brunette wig. She's wearing a T-shirt with the slogan: "Ride me like you stole me." Her shorts are slashed in strategic places.

She reaches into the gym bag and pulls out another shirt, waving it at me. The T-shirt's slogan says: "I'm a biker bitch. I like it hard, fast, and loud." And another. "Suck my tailpipe."

"Really?" she yells. "No way in Hello Kitty am I wearing these." She snatches the wig off her head. "And this thing? Wear it yourself!"

I shrug and lean on the door. "Savannah wouldn't wear those clothes. Banshee, the biker chick, would. You're not leaving this room until you agree to wear these clothes."

"I'm hungry! And there's no food here." She reaches for the doorknob, but I press against the door and hold it shut.

"Looks like you have a decision to make."

She puts her hands on her hips. "You were paid to keep me safe. If I starve, you've failed."

I want to point out that missing a meal isn't won't be the end of her, but that's the kind of thing a woman might take the wrong way. So for once, I do the smart thing and keep my mouth shut.

"I wouldn't be caught dead dressed like this!"

"You being caught and dead is exactly what we're trying to avoid."

"Arrggghhh!" It starts as a furious shriek but dies out in a despairing wail.

"Listen. I'd rather have you mad at me, hating me, and alive than happy with me and in a killer's crosshairs. You have to blend in; we're undercover. Okay?"

She holds the wig between her thumb and forefinger like a dead rat. "Karma," she whimpers. "I knew Karma would get me in the end."

CHAPTER16

Savannah

I hadno idea Crash was such a sadist. After the makeover, he insists we go out in public. I do get to change out of my shorts and into jeans because it’s a little chilly out, but that’s it. I have to wear the wig, the T-shirt, the makeup, a beat-up denim jacket, and motorcycle boots. He says I need to practice walking around in this outfit so I can do it without looking like I’m about to throw up.

I’m trying to get used to riding on a bike with him, but the vibrations still throb through my entire body and make me want to scream with sexual frustration. I grit my teeth the whole way and picture gross things like rotting garbage and plaid pants with striped shirts, and it helps…a little.

After Crash and I eat lunch at a small restaurant downtown, I want to go home immediately, but he says we have to go grocery shopping.

It’s a mortifying experience. The biker club is in the grittier part of town, but Tranquil Bay has an upscale neighborhood, and we’re in it. The parking lot is full of shiny new 2020 model Range Rovers, Lincoln Navigators, and Mercedes G-Class SUVs.

I’ve faced much worse than this. I went to finishing school and competed in pageants with some of the biggest bitches in North Carolina. I was a beauty pageant contestant. And I survived twenty-five years of my mother’s passive-aggressive undermining.

I paste a smile on my face and walk into the grocery store. I stare straight ahead as I push my cart, focusing on our grocery list, and head to the vegetable aisle.

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