Riding Curves

by Roxie Wilde

  Keep him safe.

  “We were just sitting at the tunnel like we always do. You know? Waiting. We only saw one light, heard a bike. I thought it was you. Duke knew something was up, knew you would never roll up without calling. But I messed up. I was so sure it was you I didn’t listen to him, I started up my ride. Next thing I know they’re shooting, must have been aiming at the light…”

  He trailed off, and I patted him on the shoulder.

  “It’s alright, Pipsqueak. It wasn’t your fault.”

  I heard Sam snort in amusement.

  “Pipsqueak?”

  The young man she was tending laughed, but it was weak and ended in a cough. I explained.

  “Pips’ brother gave him that name back when they were kids and it stuck. Now it’s just kind of ironic.”

  Pipsqueak had grown out of his name as a teenager. He was almost as big as I was.

  “Ironic? Isn’t that a big word for you tough guys?” Sam was speaking softly as she leaned in close, her chest an inch away from Pips, her mouth near his ear as she felt his back for an exit wound. Irrationally, a pang of jealousy hit me. It was stupid, but seeing her so close to another man made me want to put another hole in him.

  She leaned back, a frown marring her delicate features.

  “The bullet’s still in him. You ever do any field surgery, Jet?”

  I nodded. “More times than I should have. I’ve got another first aid kid in my desk over there, see what you can use.”

  I walked over to the door, leaning out to beckon to Duke.

  “We’re going to be here for a while. Make some calls, get some more medical supplies delivered. Get a call over to Sheriff Roscoe, too. We might not be on good terms, but we need to find out if he knows about any trigger happy newcomers to town.”

  Duke nodded, but I could tell he was still tense. Worry marred his grizzled features, his creased, weathered skin twisted into a frown of concern.

  “I shoulda stopped the kid from painting such a big target on himself. I could smell something was off.”

  I clapped him on the shoulder. “Then make it up to him now. Go do your job.”

  He nodded at me and hurried off to carry out his orders. I shut the door, turning back to focus all my attention on saving a life.

  I had a promise to keep.

  I was sitting in one of the overstuffed leather clubhouse chairs, drying my hands on someone’s bandana. All of the available towels, dish rags, and tee shirts had been well-ruined, but it was worth it to see some color back on Pips' face. The kid was resting comfortably.

  Now I just needed to figure out a new way to get this shipment across the border.

  There was no way this had been an accident. An attack like this, this close to home, meant someone knew who we were, and was looking for my guys. The usual route— quick and dirty on the back of the bike— was out.

  The sound of running water and a closing door snapped me out of my head and back to the present.

  And what a gift she was, too.

  Samantha stepped out of the clubhouse bathroom and offered me a tired smile. Tendrils of long blonde hair had come loose from her ponytail over the last few hours, framing her face in a way that drove me to distraction. The way her jeans hugged the round swell of her hips distracted me in a completely different way. I remembered the way she’d clung to me on the back of Freedom. Not out of fear or apprehension, but as if she couldn’t wait to press her body closer to mine.

  “Interesting way to meet the new boss.” Sam settled into the corner of the couch where Pips had been laid out hours before. Outside, the sun was bright in the late summer sky, but the boarded windows kept us in the dark. It made for an oddly intimate setting, especially with everyone else gone now.

  “How’d you like a promotion?”

  Sam raised an eyebrow at me without moving. I didn’t blame her. She’d put in some serious emergency medicine work after an entire shift of corralling the rowdy regulars at the Box.

  “You offering me a raise?”

  “Something like that.” I leaned forward, leveling her with a look. “I’ve got to get something… important across the border.”

  To her credit, Sam’s expression didn’t change.

  “Seems like some of my guys have been made, though. Best way to not get caught is to blend in. Nobody is going to be on the lookout for a pair of happy newlyweds on a road trip. What do you say? You pretend to be my old lady, I’ll pay you for the trip, using your car, and I’ll give you a bonus once we get back.”

  “Make it a raise and a bonus and you’ve got yourself a deal.” Sam cocked her head in my direction, surprising me with her willingness to jump in on an adventure she’d had no part of hours earlier.

  “And you put drapes up in the apartment over the bar.”

  Chapter 4

  Samantha

  The simple white gold wedding band reflected in the morning light streaming in through the passenger window. It sat right there, on the finger I’d sworn would go unadorned for the rest of my life on the day I’d left Evan. Mocking me in the silence of the truck.

  How the hell had I gotten myself into this mess?

  It had taken me five years of wedded fear and misery to gather up the courage to leave my last husband, and here I was six months later, wearing another man’s ring on our way to cross the border.

  Granted, my “marriage” to Jet was more of a business arrangement than a declaration of true love. But it didn’t stop the niggling doubts that insisted on making themselves known with every mile that stretched under our tires.

  “I hope it’s ok.”

  Jet’s deep voice broke through my distracted thoughts. I blinked up at him, embarrassed to have gotten caught staring at the ring like a lovestruck teenager.

  “I would have liked to have given you some say in it since you’re the one that’s got to wear the damn thing, but we didn’t have much time.”

  It struck me, the small consideration. Once again, I realized how little I knew about Jet, and smile at how much he kept surprising me.

  “My husband— ex-husband,” I quickly corrected. “Gave me a great big gaudy ring. Bought it with his first promotion.”

  Despite the sunshine streaming in through the Ford’s windshield, I felt a chill spread across my arms at the memory; the cool reminders of just how grateful I was expected to be for such extravagant gifts.

  “It was obnoxious,” I laughed with a shake of my blonde hair. “It would get caught on my gloves at work, I was always worried I’d knock a stone loose doing laundry or dishes. I hated the damned thing.”

  I stretched my hand out in the space between us, letting the band glitter on my finger.

  “This is beautiful. I would have picked something just like this if I’d had a choice.”

  Jet surprised me by taking my outstretched hand in his own, winding my fingers easily between his.

  “Did you talk to him about it?”

  It was an easy question. The natural one. Now that I’d gotten a little distance from the situation, I could see that it wasn’t absurd to consider discussing things like this with your husband. So how to explain?

  I shook my head, turning to look out the window at the blur of passing mountainside. Everything was so much more rugged out here. Mountains and men alike.

  “I always had to be careful how I spoke to Evan. It was… better if I didn’t upset him.”

  Even now, the admission annoyed me. My throat tightened around something hollow and cold. How must it sound to someone like Jet? His fingers tightened around mine.

  “How long were you with him?”

  There was no judgment in it. He asked a casual question, so I answered just as easily.

  “Almost five years altogether. He was older. Elegant and sophisticated. Beautiful. All the things I thought I wasn’t; could never be. At first, it was like living a dream. My own apartment through nursing school. Someone who was always there. Only it was more of a nightmare. Didn’t ta
ke long for that apartment to become a prison. He was… always there.”

  The words came out in a rush. It was a story I hadn’t told anyone.

  Why am I unloading it all on Jet Jones of all people?

  I brought my teeth down on my bottom lip, stemming the flow before I unburdened my entire life story between here and Tijuana.

  “I’m glad you got out, Sam.”

  I shifted in my seat, meeting Jet’s piercing gaze as the truck idled under a red light.

  Oh yeah, that’s why.

  There was something unreadable on his face, his mouth drawn tight, and he had yet to let go of his death grip on my hand.

  “Jet. This is me. The real me. The girl who grew up out here, dropped everything to become a nurse. The chick who jumped onto the back of your bike. That’s who I’ve always been. The years in between— I don’t know who that woman is. I’m just trying to get my life back.”

  I felt my heart stutter in my chest as Jet brought our joined hands up to his lips and pressed a kiss to the back of my palm. Heat surged through my skin, rocketing up my arm to settle deep in my chest.

  “You were wrong.” His deep voice rumbled against my skin, tendrils of desire snaking down between my thighs and into my jeans with every syllable.

  “I was?” I wondered if he could feel my pulse pounding away beneath his strong fingers.

  “Beautiful. Sophisticated. Sexy. You’re all of those things. Always were.”

  I laughed at that before untangling my hand from his.

  “Sexy? Who said anything about— ”

  His midnight eyes cut me off, pinning me in place on the seat.

  “I did.”

  “Lies. I don’t believe it. Nobody’s actually from the Florida Keys. Unless you’re secretly a Hemingway or something?”

  I scrutinized Jet from across the table, surveying him carefully over the spread of fish tacos laid out on the plastic table. After being cooped up in the truck for the better part of the day, it felt wonderful to stop and enjoy good food and quiet conversation. We’d probably lingered far too long at this point. The sun was sinking fast now, brilliant tangerines and violets spreading out where it kissed the coastline in the distance.

  There was something ridiculously sexy about the lines that creased the sides of his eyes when he grinned at me. I watched him wipe his mouth, tossing the crumpled napkin onto the remnants of his plate of tacos.

  “Nope. No writers. Long line of fishermen, though.”

  I wiped my own fingers, saying nothing. Jet seemed to be looking past me, at some invisible point over my shoulder, out on the water-- or years in the past.

  “I didn’t want to guide tourists out to the middle of the ocean on marlin-catching tours, though. There was more out there in the world, Sam, and I was determined to see it.” He smiled, and it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Uncle Sam came knocking, and I opened the door right up.”

  My eyes went to the intricate sleeve of tattoos that snaked their way across his exposed arm before I could stop myself. It didn’t take long to distinguish the Eagle Globe and Anchor from where they sat against the tapestry of other symbols there.

  “Marines?”

  “Oorah,” he replied softly, taking a long sip of his beer.

  The silence stretched out between us for a few minutes. It was a comfortable sort of quiet, the kind it usually takes a hell of a lot longer than one all-day car ride to achieve. From the taco shack window, staticky mariachi music carried on the evening sea breeze.

  “Did you get to see any of the world?” I finally asked over the rim of my own bottle.

  Jet’s eyes sharpened to black diamonds.

  “I saw thirty months of Camp Dwyer Marine Base in Afghanistan if that counts.”

  Realization struck me.

  “That’s how you know Pips, isn’t it?”

  He nodded. Something hard and distant glittered behind his eyes, and I felt my chest tighten for him.

  “We were in a convoy, just outside a little village called Wialo in Northern Kabul. Routine stuff. We’d run escort for caravans carrying food, supplies, medicine… it’s so different there. Those people have known nothing but war for most of their lives. First the Soviets, then each other, now us.”

  He sighed. “There was a dead goat in the road, and a kid trying to get it to stand up. A goat can give milk, keep a family alive. We stopped to help, and that’s when they started shooting.”

  He took a long drink of his Corona, taking a moment to gather his thoughts.

  “I left our base with fifty men that morning, and we limped back with less than half that, all of us wounded.”

  He lifted his shirt, exposing the six-inch scar across his abdomen. “Took a round of 7.62 from an AK-47. I got lucky, but a lot of others weren’t. Pips’ brother was one of those. When I got back stateside, I tracked him down and took him under my wing.”

  I swallowed the last of my beer along with the sand that was suddenly tightening my throat. Wetness stung behind my eyes and I blinked it away, not wanting Jet to mistake the sentiment for pity. Everything about the man defied you to feel sorry for him. He was strong to the point of superheroism.

  But that didn’t mean I couldn’t feel for him. My heart hurt for Jet— for the world he’d seen and the things he’d lost. I wanted to say something, to find the words that would somehow miraculously put his world back together.

  But of course there weren’t any. I knew that well enough.

  Instead, I reached across the table and rested my hand on his, squeezing gently. Sometimes all you could do was let someone know you were here with them.

  The smile he rewarded me with let me know it was enough.

  We sat at the table a while longer, darkness creeping in and both of us knowing we had to get back on the road.

  “Come on,” Jet finally unfolded himself and stretched an arm out to help me up. “I think we can make it all the way into Juarez before we find a place to stop for the night.”

  Chapter 5

  Jet

  I hadn’t planned on sleeping with Samantha.

  I mean, I had thought about it in great detail. I wasn’t the type to just hop into bed with someone though, and I had a feeling she was worth waiting for. More than a single feeling. She impressed with her competence, her composure.

  Grace under fire was a rare commodity. I’d learned outside Kabul that even the toughest, most resolute wills could crack under pressure.

  Sam wasn’t brittle, though. She had taken it all in stride, and that made her all the more desirable. I wanted to make her crack, to shake that composure. To rattle her with pleasure. We’d spent hours in the cab of her truck, her scent driving me wild, the swell of her breasts beneath her soft tee shirt distracting me from the road. By the time we pulled into Juarez, I was half-blind with need.

  Normally I’d stay somewhere more rundown, but I wasn’t about to subject Samantha to that. The thought of her in a cheap, rundown hotel-slash-brothel made my skin itch. She deserved better than that. No one willing to put themselves out there for someone else like she had deserved anything less than the best.

  The man behind the counter seemed bored, not even glancing up from his book as he took my money and handed over the room keycard.

  There was tension in the air even before we got to the room. A heaviness, a sense of attraction. Magnetism. We kept bumping against each other, touching in small ways. I steadied her with a hand at the small of her back when she stumbled, and I was overwhelmed with how right it felt. How perfectly my big hand fit.

  She smiled at me, and I could see the invitation in those big beautiful eyes. I was suddenly incredibly aware of her body. How the shape of her curves was impossible to hide under even loose clothes. She was warm and smelled far better than anyone I hung out with day to day.

  I cleared my throat.

  She didn’t look away, her cheeks red as she bit her lip in a way that made my pants suddenly feel two sizes too small. I stepped out of the eleva
tor and past her, hefting both of our bags easily. I unlocked the door and pushed it open for her. She brushed against me again as she walked by, another light touch that sharpened my desire.

  I almost ran into her as I stepped in. She’d stopped still, frozen. I glanced over her shoulder as she began to laugh, a deep and rich sound that was music to my ears.

  “Here I thought you were a gentleman.”

  She didn’t sound mad. More teasing than anything.

  “I am. It would raise questions to have two beds for a happily married couple, and you never know who’s watching. I still don’t know enough about what happened to take a chance, especially…”

  Especially with you.

  “Especially?” She quirked one eyebrow up.

  “Especially with my precious cargo.” I patted my satchel, grinning. She rolled her eyes, turning away. Unthinking, I reached out, grabbed her wrist. The motion arrested her momentum, made her turn back into me.

  “I would never risk you getting hurt, Sam.” All the laughter in my voice had died.

  She nodded. “I believe you.”

  We were close. Too close for me to take, too close to her warmth not to want more. I moved to step away, and she moved with me. Moved closer.

  “Sam, I— “

  “I know. You actually are a perfect gentleman.” She looked up at me with heavy bedroom eyes. “I was just hoping you wouldn’t be.”

  I didn’t have the willpower left to resist that. I brought my lips down on hers, kissing her with a sudden intensity that she mirrored back. Her hands went into my hair; mine were on her, moving from curve to delicious curve, exploring and feeling that body that had been preoccupying all of my thoughts since I first saw her.

  Her hands clenched tight, pulling roughly at me with a desperate need. It was a hungry kiss, a craving kiss. I normally favored something gentler, easing into passion slowly, savoring every moment.

  Samantha wasn’t having any of it though. She kissed me like it was the last kiss she’d ever have, and I reciprocated. I grabbed her hips, pulling her hard against me. She moaned into my mouth as she felt the hard length of my cock straining against my Wranglers. I slid my hands up her sides to cup her breasts, squeezing them through the thin cotton of her top.