Obsession (A Bad Boy's Secret Baby) (26 page)

This also meant slowing down, avoiding most of the main roads, and in doing so, something unique happened.

We had time to breathe, to experience the ride itself.

Something I hadn't done in far too long.

The weather was unseasonably nice. It felt like a vacation. All through the Carolinas, we carved a path down back roads that I'd never heard of. The defiantly warm sun ducked in and out of sparse, wispy clouds that hung lazily in a calm blue sky.

I picked up a map at a one-pump gas station in a town so small that I'm not sure it even had a name. It took us past endless, tree-lined farms and through other similarly slow, modest towns. Lush, beautifully dying fields that were topped with stubborn shocks of purple and white flowers swayed at our passing.

People waved from porches with lemonade in their hands and a shotgun leaning against the door. This was a different world, it was docile and steeped in tradition—some good and some bad—but all genuine.

The landscape was infinite, gorgeous, and breathtakingly serene. The face of God blanketed the countryside, it was easy to see why most towns were centered around immaculate looking churches.

Neither of us planned on the sense of commonality that had been reinforced every time we compared what we'd seen along the way during our stops for food, gas, or to use the restroom. We had a joint sense of bewilderment at the shared experience of seeing truly foreign sights, like the mildly racist Bingo-Bongos' restaurant chain, or the quintessentially southern Pig & Wiggles supermarket.

We were forced to go at the speed of the trip itself, no faster. So with long rides that were too loud to talk, it left both of us with time to reflect, to just feel the road beneath the wheels and to live in the moment.

I'd rode down south before, but never like this.

From the way Flora nestled into my back through it all, hugging me, I was willing to bet that she hadn't either.

Flora...

The experiences we'd shared together had intertwined so thoroughly that it was hard to separate Flora from the
moment
itself
.

I knew it was dangerous to let myself get caught up in her, but I couldn't help it. At the rare traffic light, when I'd lean my head back to ask if she needed a break, I could smell her hair and feel her breath on my cheek. The more she squeezed me, the more I wanted to languish in her.

There was, of course, this lingering sense of dread; me for my club, her for her sister, but it wasn't overbearing. Not yet. I was sure all that would change once we crossed the Florida state line, but that was tomorrow's problem.

Right now there was just Flora, me, and miles of empty road.

I couldn't remember the last time I'd felt this at ease.

****

A
dvance Auto Parts, Pizza Hut, Family Dollar and other familiar franchise stores had started to pollute the periphery. With Hilliard a stone's throw away, the abrupt but welcome vacation was finally coming to a close.

This was it, the one last night that held us together.

The sun was setting over the sloped red roof of the Tuffy Two restaurant when we turned into the parking lot.

“Hungry?” I asked, kicking down the side stand and turning off the bike.

Flora peeled herself off me, extending her arms as high as she could as she did a long stretch. I was immediately drawn to the slice of her creamy midriff that was revealed in the process. “Where are we?”

“The last diner in Georgia, from the looks of it.

“Huh. I was really hoping for barbeque.”

“I can still turn us around. I know this great place about a day's ride in the opposite direction.” I smirked and gave a shrug.

Flora raised her eyebrows, they told me that she wasn't having any of my shit. It was a refreshing change of pace from what I was used to. “I'll get us a table,” she said.

I nodded and watched her go. She let her hair down and shook it out as she walked. Despite the leather biker pants and strapless halter top I'd suggested, Flora wore a very modest light blue T-shirt and a pair of khaki pants. We'd picked up a change of clothes, something without blood splattered on them.

With time, Flora had finally relaxed enough for me to see that she was truly unlike any girl I'd ever known. I'd come to notice that she was clumsy and awkward and would smile at weird times, all of which I found endearing. In addition to that, she was a mix of stubbornness, naivete and spitfire that was infuriating, but also sexy as hell.

That made what was coming all that much worse.

I pulled out my phone, calling some old contacts that might be in a position to get me out of the country. It was a long shot, so I wasn't holding my breath. When no one answered, I figured they'd either moved on or were dead.

What was I going to do after I dropped this girl off? Where could I go as a hunted man?

Nowhere.

With the long rides, I'd had a lot of time to think. Although I didn't see it before, all I'd done as a nomad was run. I ran from everything and everyone that might slow me down. That's why I joined the Steel Veins to begin with; they embraced that culture.

But no matter how hard I ran, or how much pussy or trouble I used as a distraction, those old ghosts...

They always found a way to catch up.

I was tired of running.

By now, the Knights must've spread the news that I was no longer protected. They'd probably have a bounty on me after what I'd done at Roach's.

I looked down at my rough, scarred hands and thought of the countless storms they'd weathered.
I guess it's all just a matter of time, now.

As for Flora... Well, I tried not to think about the chances of her surviving the next meeting with the Knights. I didn't have much faith that either of us would last long in Miami.

I saw through the window that she'd ordered us a round of waters. Regardless of whether I asked for it or not, she'd done the same thing every time we'd gone to a restaurant.

She had this inherent sense of minding for others that I found charming. Surprisingly enough, past the trauma and zealot-like focus, Flora was the best traveling companion I'd ever had. I couldn't have asked for a better way to spend my last days.

After I dropped Flora off, I was going to find the seediest game of cards around, get liquored up till I could barely stand, then make as much noise as possible and wait for the end.

It wasn't while cooking in a well stocked kitchen, but all things considered, it wasn't a bad way to go out, either.

I headed in.

“Everything alright?” she asked when I sat down.

I looked her over wearing my usual smirk; one that had grown more honest as I spent time with this woman. I took a sip of my water and replied, “Right as rain, Darlin'.”

It was dinner time, so the place was packed with what looked like the regular crowd. We ordered and ate. It was typical diner fare, made with more gristle than love for my liking, but I'd had worse, and Flora didn't seem to mind.

I was chasing my dry Salisbury steak down with some beer when I caught two men at the bar eyeballing me. After a few seconds, they turned back around and talked between themselves.

“What is it?” Flora asked, noticing that my demeanor had become more tense.

I watched the two guys pay their tab and leave. “Nothing,” I said, taking another sip of beer. “It was probably just locals that didn't take kindly to outsiders. Tell me about Claudine. What's she like?”

She sat back, lips tightening dubiously. “I think you're the first person to ask me that. I mean, first that wasn't trying to find a way to sleep with her.”

“Well, I always did have a thing for junkies. She cute?”

Flora's eyes narrowed. It was clear she took offense. “You're determined to make me hate you.”

I kept quiet, hiding behind a sharp grin.
That would be easier, wouldn't it...

Stirring her straw in the water, she hesitated. “Don't call her that word.” When I said nothing, she pressed on, not seeming to need my answer. “Growing up, it always felt like it was me and her against the world. My family was—is—very poor. We struggled for everything we ever had. I hated it. I hated the pity, I hated the disdain. It always felt like I started life a mile behind everyone else, and it didn't matter how fast I ran, I could never catch up.”

Flora's eyes sparkled. “But Claudine,” she said, “She told me that it was because of our struggles that we were stronger. That no one could survive a day in our shoes. That's what made us special. She taught me so much about the world and about myself. If I was ever in trouble, she would always find a way to help me. God, I looked up to her like crazy.”

“Sounds you still do.”

“Yeah.” Flora stared into her water sullenly. The crushing weight of her insurmountable task loomed before her.

That was tomorrow's problem, not today's. I'd always been of the mindset that it was best not to dwell on things that you couldn't, or wouldn't, change.

“Hey, I bet she didn't teach you to be crippled by doubt.” I lifted her chin with my finger and gazed deeply into her eyes. “Your sister needs you.” Then I offered a mischievous grin. “And from what I've seen of your interrogation methods,
I
wouldn't want to fuck with you.”

I felt terrible about encouraging her suicidal endeavor, but it was what she needed to hear. I'd learned by now that there was no changing Flora's mind. There was a small hole in my heart in knowing that she wasn't going to save anyone.

“You know all about me.” Flora palm-rubbed her eyes and smiled, stemming the budding tears. “What about you? You weren't born into that biker gang, were you?”

“I was born into the biker gang of life, but that's a long and boring story.” I finished my beer, stood up and grabbed my jacket. “Another time, maybe.”

“I didn't scare you off, did I, Mr. big tough outlaw-man?” Flora teased.

“Nah, but I do think it's your turn to pay. You got this one, right?”

“What?” Flora's eyes flashed nervously. “You know I don't have any money.”

I shrugged, slipping on the leather and affixing a grin. “Looks like you're going to have to roll up your sleeves and do some dishes.”

Flora shook her head. “You're unbelievable.”

I took a few twenties from my pocket and handed them to her.

She snatched the money and wryly smiled back. “Yeah, you better run.”

“No man can run from old habits.” I held up a pack of smokes and walked out.

****

O
utside by the dumpster, the kitchen entrance was blasting early ninety's rap music. I took a drag from my cigarette and tried not to think. The cool air had crisped since we'd been inside. It felt refreshing on my face, sobering, even.

I saw Flora turn the corner, jacket folded over her arm. “Those things will kill you,” she said.

“Not fast enough.” I tapped the cigarette to knock off some ash.

She looked side to side. “I wondered where you got off to. You weren't by your bike.”

“It's too busy out front, too much noise.”

“Noise, really?” Flora motioned towards the open kitchen.

I blew a line of smoke out of the side of my mouth. “You want me to ask them to turn it down for you?”

She eyed me uncertainly, perhaps wondering if I'd really do it. Her expression lightened. “You never finished back there. Explaining, I mean. What were you before the club?”

I wasn't looking forward to reliving that experience, but she had me cornered. I was out of places to run.

But not out of ideas.

I reached out a hand, hearing that the next song that was blaring through the washroom boombox was a slow ballad. “Dance with me.”

“What, here? Next to this dumpster?” Flora giggled nervously, then took a step backwards when she saw my sincerity. “No, no no. I can't dance.”

“Then I guess you'll never know my past. The mystery will eat away at you until you're old and gray.”

After a fair amount of deliberation, her face screwed up in mild embarrassment. She begrudgingly took a step forward, taking my hand. “Fine,” she whispered. Her inner battle with giving in to my ridiculous demand was fun to watch.

I tossed her coat onto a nearby fence, then pulled her into me. Flora squeaked at the abruptness of the motion. It was adorable.

It was... dangerous.

Why am I doing this?
I wondered. But wondering led to more questions. Hadn't I questioned myself enough these days?

I couldn't dance either, so we swayed like high school sweethearts. The last time she was this close without a set of wheels beneath us was when she'd tried to seduce me. It was an image that I'd never get out of my head.

Not that I wanted to.

I felt her breath on my collarbone. She was warm and soft in all the right places. My mind drifted, wondering what the rest of her felt like. Flora was a pretty girl, but I didn't realize just how badly I wanted her until now, on the eve of our demise.

She'd wormed her way inside of me. I'd promised myself I wouldn't let that happen. Yet here we were, swaying together. It was ridiculous.

I didn't want it to ever stop.

Throughout this whole trip, I think I'd always known I was falling for her. I'd been trying to keep my distance so that I wouldn't become too attached. Having Flora finally in my arms made all that imposed detachment so pointless.

Looking down at her, capturing her stare, I studied the centers of her eyes. The static boiling in her black centers said she wanted this, too. I had one hand in hers; with the other, I squeezed her closer to me, running my fingers down the curve of her spine.

Touching her, reminding myself of her existence—
our
existence—was addicting.

“Ronin...” Flora's voice was weak, on the verge of trailing off completely. We stopped moving, but stayed just as close. “I don't even know your real name.”

Inside the kitchen, a dish shattered; there was cursing and shouting. Outside, dull chatter from joining or parting friends mixed with the coughing engines turning over.

“Maybe it is my real name,” I said. Her steady stare said she knew better. “Alright. Then, does it really matter?”