HeroRising

by Anna Alexander

  Okay, so far he had maintained a respectful distance. She’d see if that lasted if she was upright. She climbed to her feet and bit back a moan with a wince as the skin of her scraped knees stretched. The seat of her dress was soaked through and muddy and bits of gravel and pine needles stuck to her bare legs like a strange tattoo.

  “Um…thank you?” she offered, still not convinced she was any safer now than she was before he arrived.

  “Was that your vehicle I passed back aways?”

  She nodded and continued to stretch, testing her limbs.

  “Why did you leave your vehicle? Don’t you have a communications device to call for assistance?”

  “You mean a phone?”

  “Ya.”

  Damn he was cute with that accent. There was also a grit in his voice, deep and growly, kinda like a blues singer at the end of his career. The sound was sexy and harsh, which completely sucked. She didn’t want to find anything else about him attractive.

  “I do,” she began to answer, “but…” That’s it. Confirm you have no one to call or a way to scream for help. “I preferred to walk.”

  His eyebrow took another journey north. “Where are you going?”

  “That way.” She pointed down the road. “Look, like I said, thanks for taking care of the creepazoids. Have a great day.”

  With her body positioned to keep him in her sights, she walked back to where she dropped her bag.

  “You are alone, aren’t you?”

  Yep, not gonna answer that either. She picked up the bag and brushed off as much debris as possible before slinging the strap over her shoulder. She didn’t even bother with her sodden jacket and stuffed it into her bag.

  “Can I take you anywhere?” He gestured to the motorcycle several yards away that lay on its side as if he had been more concerned with saving her life than parking properly. “It will be a tight fit, but I can carry you.”

  Though his shoulders were wide, his waist and hips were lean, not the she was paying that much attention to his physique. Sure, they’d be able to fit on the seat. Barely. She would have to be plastered to him as tight as wallpaper. Wrapped around all his muscles…and manliness…and muscles…

  Shaking her head to clear the image, she marched on. “No thank you.”

  “I promise you, no harm will come to you while you are in my care.”

  “Right.” Was he for real? Who talks like that nowadays?

  “Female, stop!”

  The barked order made her stop short. Here it comes. Steel formed in her bones as she braced for his attack.

  He held out his hands again, this time as if trying to calm a frightened animal. “I know you have no reason to trust me, but I will see you to safety. Here.” From his pocket he withdrew the knife he used earlier. With a slow bend of his knees he set the blade on the ground then took three steps back. “Take it.”

  “What?”

  “Take it. I’ll stay right here.”

  Between them on the ground lay the knife. The inlaid silver scrollwork pattern and deep-blue gemstones set deep into the black onyx grip caught the last bit of daylight and flashed at her with an enticing wink.

  What game was he playing? This gesture of goodwill could totally be a trick, but the allure of having a weapon was greater than the voice of reason. She took half a step, then another while he remained standing as still as stone. Her gaze never left his face, watching for the slightest movement that may announce when he’d strike. By the time the hilt was in her grasp, a tiny smile softened his lips and satisfaction glowed in his eyes.

  “Good,” he said. “Place your thumb on top of the third oval stone on the side and press.”

  “Holy shit!” she shouted with a jump as the four-inch-long blade slid out with a little hiss.

  “Press it again to retract the blade.”

  Snick. The deadly weapon was contained before she blinked. How many times in her life had she held a knife in her hand and not thought anything of the potential damage she could inflict with the blade? But kitchen knives were for utilitarian purposes, not homicidal ones. The little switchblade in her grip felt a million times more deadly than a butcher knife ever did.

  “Ride with me,” he said, pulling her attention away from the weapon. “Hold on to my hips with your thighs and keep the knife in your hand. Place the end right here.” He pointed to a spot on his side between his ribs. “If at any time you feel threatened by me, press the trigger. You’ll puncture my lungs and they will fill with blood, drowning me. You will then have a chance to continue on with my bike.”

  “Are you serious?” she exclaimed, completely in shock. Not that he knew how to take a life, of that she had no doubt, but that he’d calmly explain how to end his.

  “Of course,” he replied with nary a wink that he was anything but sincere.

  Right. Okay. What were her options? Continue walking down the road and risk being hit by a car, or facing an encounter with another scumbag or accept a ride with talk, dark and scary who gave her a weapon?

  Damn. None of those choices were optimal.

  “My name is Bale. What is yours?”

  “Ari.” She shifted her weight from foot to foot, still hesitant to commit to one way or another.

  “Ari.” His tongue flicked each syllable in a way that made her breath catch. “There is a petrol station up ahead with a restaurant, not too far by cycle. At least let me take you that far. I promise, you will arrive safely.”

  Her gaze bounced from the knife in her hand to the motorcycle then to his dark eyes. Over and over she weighed the consequences of each option. The roar of a sixteen wheeler barreling down the street broke the circuit and she stepped back, but Bale didn’t move. He stared at her even as the truck clamored past, missing him by mere inches and not once did he flinch. As if she needed further proof he was a major badass.

  Maybe she was crazy, but she’d rather take her chances riding behind him on his bike with a knife in her hand than with a car or another big rig on the road.

  “Fine,” she said. “But just to the restaurant.”

  The stiffness in his posture eased and though his mouth never moved, she swore his eyes smiled at her with pleasure over her answer.

  “Have you ever ridden before?”

  She shook her head.

  “Hang on to me and lean when I do. Flow with me, not against, and we will remain upright.”

  “Great.” That sounded safe.

  He gestured for her to follow, which she did while repeatedly calling herself an idiot. Try as she might not to, her gaze zeroed in on his denim-covered backside while she mentally kicked her own ass. In her deepest of hearts she knew the biggest reason for agreeing was for the chance to be pressed along his big body. She was worse than those women in those horrible slasher flicks who were killed for being stupid.

  “May I secure your bag? You’ll find it easier to hold on.”

  The formal cadence in his speech in comparison to his restless biker appearance charmed her, and before she thought better of it she handed him the bag with a smile.

  His eyes widened, as if surprised to see her comply so readily, and he took her satchel, securing it in one of the saddlebags before handing her the full-face helmet.

  “Will you need help with the latch?”

  “I’ll manage.” She tucked the knife under her arm as she strapped the headgear into place. She felt as if she had placed a jack o’ lantern over her head, but at least her brain would be protected. Fat lot of good it was doing her now.

  “Here, take my coat.” He removed the denim and held it out for her to slip her arms into the sleeves. “I’m not certain it will keep you dry, but it will at least add a layer of warmth.”

  “I don’t want to leave you with nothing.”

  “I’ll have my sweatshirt. Wear it, please.”

  She slid an arm into one sleeve and sighed, quickly sliding into the other and pulling the edges over her torso. The coat was two sizes too big, but the residual h
eat from his body on the fabric felt as if she had slipped under an electric blanket. Oh, the sensation was heavenly.

  Bale threw a leg over the seat. “Climb on.”

  Suddenly her lungs refused to work as she eyed the scant space left on the seat behind his butt. Her grip on the knife tightened and she forced a lump down her throat. Gingerly, she swung her leg over the bike and sat. She had intended to rest her free hand on his waist, but the moment his heat touched her chilled bones she wrapped her arm around his middle and snuggled closer. If not for the helmet, she would have rubbed her face into his back.

  “You are so warm,” she moaned without thinking.

  His stomach clenched under her forearm. “Here we go.”

  Ooo, Nelly. She snapped her teeth together as he kicked the engine into gear. With the mouth of her sex pressed over the vibrating seat and his hips wedged between her open thighs, arousal hit her unexpectedly hard. When he sent the bike into motion, she grabbed on to his belt for purchase. Against the backs of her fingers his cock pressed hard and hot through his jeans. Man, he was built big all over.

  Hot guy. Motorcycle that doubled as a giant sex toy. She was in hell. This had to be more punishment for her sins. Who the hell had she pissed off so greatly to be tormented in such a manner?

  Breathe, Ari girl, just breathe. It was only a short bike ride. She could manage to keep it together for a few miles.

  The rain tapered off to nothing and Bale kept their speed at a steady clip but slow enough to minimize the wind tearing through her wet clothes. His consideration for her comfort drew him one more mark away from scary to pretty decent.

  As the road passed under her knees, and with nothing else to do but hang on, Ari allowed her mind to wander. And why not? Her life had taken a turn toward Crazyville and it was healthy to cope with a little indulgent fantasy.

  In her imagination they were just a boy and a girl out on a Sunday drive with a picnic lunch stashed in the saddlebags. Instead of searching for a roof and hot water, Bale was whisking her away to a secret location in the woods where he would lay her out on the grass and kiss her senseless with his firm lips. Of course with her luck, his favorite make-out spot was probably a quarry he used to stash the bodies.

  God, when had she become so cynical? Except for the way he had dealt with the creeps he’d been a nice guy so far. It wasn’t his fault she was terrified of him one moment, then felt the burn to ride him like a bronco the next.

  She was so fucked in the head.

  Around the next bend the glow of a gas station broke through the ever-increasing darkness of night. Attached to the station was a fast-food restaurant and the promise of hot water to wash her hands and face with. The front of her body was nice and toasty from being molded to Bale’s back, but her rear was freezing and felt as if ice had formed along the edges of her dress.

  Bale brought the bike to a stop and held out his hand for her to use as a brace. She was shocked she didn’t hear her joints creak as she climbed off the seat with stiff knees and a wince. Between the cold and her bruises, she was so sore even her blood ached.

  After a mumbled “thanks” she went into the restaurant. Ignoring the delicious scent of French fries, she headed straight for the restroom and turned the tap to hot at full blast, praying the water would actually be warm.

  “Whoop, whoop,” she hollered as the warmth seeped into her skin when she tested the temperature.

  The rush of water went a long way to soothing her frazzled nerves. Blessed was the peace and quiet of being out of the elements for just a moment. Soon enough she was going to have to leave this little sanctuary, but for now there was only her and the hot water. Perfect serenity.

  Tranquility lasted for all of a second as she got a really good look at her reflection in the mirror. Damn, she looked as if she just hopped off the boat from hell that encountered a tsunami. If the press back home saw her now, they’d probably add drug user to the list of false adjectives they wrote about her.

  She stripped off Bale’s jacket and laid it on the tiny bit of available counter space. Her hoodie she wrapped around her waist before she crouched to riffle through her bag. What the hell? Makeup, power cords, soap, undies and pajamas. No real clothes? Not even a pair of leggings? Gah, she really needed to plan better for emergencies. The soaked cotton dress, which had once been a favorite, was quickly becoming a hated entity, and at the first opportunity was going to face a grisly end. Perhaps even burned in a fiery pyre in honor of her new start.

  As best as she could with cheap paper towels and an empty soap dispenser, she attempted to clean the blood and dirt off her legs, but sadly the effort did not do much to improve her appearance.

  Priorities, girl. Where are your priorities? At the moment looking cute was at the bottom of the list. First order of business was to get something warm in her belly.

  Heat raced across her cheeks as a picture of a naked Bale flashed through her mind.

  Food! She meant food. Geez, had she left her mind in the gutter? Maybe a slap in the head was needed as well.

  She splashed another palm full of water on her pink cheeks and focused on the next few minutes. First up, food and nothing but food. Second, find an outlet to charge up the phone, then figure out how to get to the city and locate a place to stay. If she was lucky, she’d be in a warm bed by midnight.

  No. She was going to be in a warm bed. Positive thinking.

  “Let’s do this,” she said with the utmost conviction of succeeding and opened the door. She jumped back with a curse when she saw Bale leaning against the opposite wall, his fierce stare nailing her in the eyes.

  “I did not mean to startle you,” he said, unfolding his arms and straightening to his incredibly tall height. “I was afraid you had fallen. You were in there a while.”

  “The water felt nice.” She licked her lips and shifted her weight from one leg to the other. Remembering the weight in her hand, she handed him his jacket. “Um…thanks for the ride. You didn’t have to wait for me.”

  “I promised to see you to safety. Keep the coat. You’re cold.”

  “I’ll dry out faster without the extra layer. Thanks anyway.”

  He reached out with a slow hand and accepted the jacket. “Are you hungry? Can I get you anything?”

  “No. I mean, I can get my own food. Can I get you anything? You know, as a thank-you.”

  What are you doing?

  Just being hospitable. The man made an effort and a small token of thanks was not unreasonable.

  Uh-huh. Riiiight.

  All right. Fine. So she wanted to spend a little more time in his company. He was just so, sigh, drool-worthy. All too soon she was going to be neck-deep in adult stuff like finding a new job and getting her car towed. It was crazy, she knew, but all she wanted was to stare at him awhile and gather images to take with her to keep warm during the lonely nights to come. It would only be for a moment.

  “Your words of thanks are all I require,” he said with a formal nod.

  All I require. There he went with the cheesy talk again. The trait was really quite adorable. “Seriously. You’re a big guy. You must be hungry, or at least could use a snack. Coffee? I heard you people drink a lot of coffee out here.”

  The tops of his cheeks bunched and his eyes narrowed for a brief second. Was that a precursor to a sneeze or had she amused him somehow?

  “If you insist.” He bowed his head. “I would like a salad.”

  “Lettuce? That’s all you want? Are you a vegetarian or something?”

  “I do not know this word.”

  “It means you don’t eat anything animal related.”

  “Ah. No, I am not a vegetarian.”

  She waited for him to continue, but when all he did was stare back expectantly, she shrugged and headed for the counter. Handsome, but definitely an oddball.

  Between the inclement weather and the time of day, the restaurant was near to empty. As she went to place their order, she noticed Bale took a table in t
he far corner and sat with his back to the wall. Those dark eyes of his surveyed the entire interior and she’d bet money he knew at least a dozen ways to evacuate the building if need be. His actions reminded her of the Fort Leonard Wood guys who came to the bar she used to work at. Was he military perhaps, or law enforcement?

  Well, crud. Now she was intrigued and she didn’t want to be intrigued by the man, but how could she not be?

  He was like one of those giant, complicated jigsaw puzzles you have no intention of putting together. But then someone opens the box and leaves some of the pieces out, and each time you walk past it, you start to put a piece or two together then, wham! Before you know it, eight hours whizz by and you are still at the table trying to put the damn thing together.

  The sight of the two salads she had purchased—because really was one going to be enough?—sitting on the tray next to her juicy cheeseburger and fries made her shake her head. What curiosities would she discover about him next?

  She set the tray on the table and took the seat across from him. “Your salads, sir. And you have to help me eat the fries. If you don’t, I’ll end up eating them all.”

  “Then why did you purchase so many?”

  “Because a small was too small, plus they looked good.” She unwrapped her burger then dumped the carton of potatoes over the paper. After blowing on a hot fry, she popped it into her mouth. “Yum. They taste good too.”

  His cheeks did that weird bunch thing again before he began to eat his salad. His shoulders curled over and his face was tilted down, but his eyes continually scanned the room.

  Wow. Suspicious much?

  While she went about the task of plugging the charger to her phone into the nearest outlet, Bale continued to eat in silence. She pushed a few fries in his direction, which he ignored, until she gave him the evil eye and he took one with a grudging harrumph.

  “So.” She observed him over the top of her sesame-seed bun. “Your accent is—” Sexy as hell. “Different. Are you from Scandinavia?”

  He straightened as if she had pulled a gun on him. “Did you say Skandavia?”

  “Scandinavia.”

  “What?”