Keep Me Close Page 3

  Vinny dreamed of bathrooms and cold water and cell phone signals, but once they got closer, she had to readjust her expectations.

  The place was a dive. A creepy gas station backed up to a creepy garage, populated by creepy, leather-faced, bearded bikers.

  It was the unfriendliest place Vinny had ever seen.

  The guy pulled in, but stopped well short of the gas pumps.

  He pulled his helmet off, then turned his head enough to say, “Not to go all white knight, but there is no way in hell I’m dropping you off here.”

  Vin breathed a sigh of relief she didn’t realize she’d been holding. “Good,” she said quietly, “because this place makes my skin crawl.”

  “Yeah, mine too.” Nevertheless, he got off the bike. “Stay right here. I’m not kidding.”

  “Where are you going?” she asked, feeling very anxious.

  “Creepy or not, they’re bikers. They’ll have a spare helmet to sell.”

  “Um. Can you get some more water too?” she asked. “I’m still thirsty.”

  “There’s a full thermos in the righthand saddlebag,” he said. “Drink that. Water around here is probably poisoned.”

  “Be careful,” Vin said.

  “You too. Don’t wander off.”

  Then the guy—whose name she didn’t even know—proceeded to wander off, straight toward the bikers.

  Chapter 3

  Dom hated the place. He wasn’t naturally gifted at sensing auras, but the vibes around the whole location were so aggressive a blind person could see them. It was bad. Purple black, like a thundercloud or a bruise. The people who called this place home were only human in the literal sense.

  But they were definitely bikers, with a line of shiny chrome bikes in the large garage. Big beasts of bikes. Mostly Harleys or hacked-together choppers, all heavily accessorized with black leather and more bad vibes. The men standing around talking near the huge garage door had the bruise-colored auras he sensed around the rest of the place. Even their laughter had a tinge of meanness, like bullies on a playground.

  Just buy a helmet and leave.

  He stepped into the office of the gas station.

  A stocky man with a huge greying beard looked him over. “If you want to gas up, amigo, you need to get the bike a little closer to the pump.” He cast a non-casual look outside to where Dom’s bike was parked, with the woman still near it.

  A couple of other gang members laughed, non-casually moving to flank Dom. One said, “Maybe he needs a little help getting the pump in the tank.”

  Dom resisted the impulse to roll his eyes. “I’m looking to buy a helmet. We’re one short.”

  “Ladies like to feel the wind in their hair,” the guy said.

  “Not this one,” Dom disagreed. “You got one to sell or not?”

  “Sure, I got one. Almost new.”

  The way the other guys laughed at the last words made Dom cringe inside. He did not want to know how they got the helmet in the first place.

  Bearded guy turned and pulled out a helmet from a shelf in the booth. He plunked it on the counter.

  Dom picked it up, examining it for cracks. It was black, plain but unbroken. “Looks okay,” he said. “How much?”

  “Four hundred.”

  “I don’t want to buy everything here, just the helmet,” Dom said. “How much?”

  “Four hundred dollars. American. What’s the matter? Don’t think your lady’s skull is worth that much?”

  “I don’t think this helmet is worth that much. I could buy a brand new one for that.”

  “Yeah, if you were somewhere else. But you ain’t. You’re here. And the only helmet for sale is four hundred dollars American.” The bearded guy slapped a hand on the counter, as if he just got a great idea. “If you don’t got the cash, how about a trade. Ten minutes alone with your lady sounds good.”

  Dom went still. “Say again?”

  “You heard me.”

  “Not interested.” Dom took a slow breath.

  The bearded guy put both hands on the counter, leaning forward slightly. “Worried she’ll like it?”

  That was the last thing Dom was worried about. Her being alive at the end, that was something to worry about. He pulled out some cash from his right pocket, counting out the bills carefully. “Three hundred in exchange for the helmet and an apology for insulting a lady.” He held the folded bills up.

  The guy laughed, but his eyes were locked on the cash. “Sorry,” he said, not sounding sorry at all. “Sure she’s a real angel.”

  Dom wouldn’t know, but he nodded, reaching for the helmet. He dropped the cash on the counter. He didn’t bother to say goodbye.

  He went outside with the helmet, feeling a target on his back the whole time. Though the conversation didn’t take more than a few minutes, it felt like an hour. If anything had happened to his bike, his cat, or his passenger while he was distracted, he’d do something permanent to this place.

  But as soon as he sighted his bike, he got sidetracked by something he didn’t usually see with his bike—a gorgeous woman.

  “Wow,” Dom breathed. He’d seen her before, obviously, but not like this, leaning casually against the machine, as if she belonged to it.

  For a girl who said she didn’t have much to do with motorcycles, she sure looked good with one. The worn, cropped black leather jacket fit her frame perfectly. Underneath the jacket he could see the mess of silver necklaces she wore around her neck, easily a couple dozen. She was leaning against the side of the seat so that her legs were straight out, crossed at the ankles. The skinny jeans she wore outlined every contour of sleekly muscled legs.

  Her black leather boots didn’t come up much above those crossed ankles, and the leather was dusty with long wear, the toes all scuffed up. Shitkicker boots, his brother Mal always called them, in contrast to the ones designed for a fancy night out. These looked like they kicked plenty of shit.

  But that actually wasn’t the main event. She had her phone out in one hand and a tube of lipstick in the other. Using the phone as a mirror, she swiped an intense red across her lips.

  Dom hated lipstick. But it was still sexy as hell to watch her put it on.

  She took her time, pursing her mouth in the mimic of a kiss, though she smiled only at the phone, not even glancing around. Her disdain for her surroundings was louder than any insult she might have screamed. It was defiant. It was unnecessarily provoking. And it looked great.

  He was not the only man watching. Two other bikers had strolled up while he was inside. Dom wasn’t sure why they weren’t getting too close. Then he saw Piewicket pacing in a tight figure eight pattern between the new guys and the bike.

  One guy took a step forward and earned a hiss from the cat, who arched her back in the classic Halloween pose. They laughed, but didn’t try to move any more.

  “Pussycat’s got claws,” one said.

  “Which pussycat you looking at?” the other said, and laughed again.

  Dom did not like that sound. He’d had enough of this place.

  He moved faster. Not running, but not wasting time.

  “What’s the rush, pal?” the first biker asked, seeing him pass.

  Dom didn’t answer.

  His passenger must have been more alert to the situation than she seemed, because she somehow put her phone and lipstick away and swung one long leg over the seat by the time he reached the bike.

  Like hell you don’t ride, he thought. But all he said was, “Put this on.”

  She took the helmet dubiously. “Will it fit? How’s it supposed to feel?”

  “I honestly don’t care,” he muttered. “Just put it on. And hold onto me, because when I drive out of here, I’ll be doing it fast. Got it?”

  He glanced at the side pannier where Piewicket already nestled. The cat knew what was about to happen.

  Dom tore out of the gas station like he was outrunning the apocalypse. His danger sense had been screaming at him the whole time, and he w
ouldn’t feel better until he was out of range.

  She listened to him at least, to judge by how tight her arms were around him. If he wasn’t thinking about evasive maneuvers and getaway plans, it would have been a nice ride. He couldn’t remember the last time a beautiful woman was pressed this close to him.

  Well, yes he did. But he’d gotten good at shutting that train of thought down fast.

  Don’t think about Rachel. Think about getting gone.

  In the deepening twilight, it was getting hard to see the road in front of them. Dom was driving way too fast for conditions. On any other bike but his, this speed would be suicidal. But his bike had so many enchantments worked into it that he could take a risk.

  He tore straight down the highway for a few minutes, concentrating purely on speed. But once he rounded a curve—one sharp enough that the bike flattened out nearly horizontal to take it—he started looking for side roads or something to get him off the main route.

  He took a sudden turn, heading down the narrow road toward a distant ridge. The girl behind him didn’t say a word—not that he’d hear it, with the helmets and the wind. She molded herself even more tightly to him, basically banking on sharing his fate.

  Dom kept following the road as it climbed. Once he hit the crest of the ridge, he slowed the bike considerably. Then he rolled to a halt, killing the engine and the lights.

  She had her helmet off as soon as he did, then grabbed his forearm, stopping him getting off the bike.

  “You trying to kill us both?” she hissed, sounding more scared than angry.

  “Nope.” He kept his eyes on the main highway in the valley below them. “Just wait for a minute.”

  “What are we waiting for?”

  He pointed to a collection of motorcycle headlights in the distance. “They’re following us. I could see them getting ready to ride when we left. They wanted to chase us down.”

  “What a bunch of assholes,” she said. Despite her defiant words, her voice was really shaky.

  “That was pretty much my impression,” Dom said. “Don’t worry. They won’t know where I turned off the road.”

  “What makes you so sure?” she asked.

  Because magic, he thought. But now was not the time to explain things like that to a civilian.

  They watched silently as the group went by down below. None of the bikers took the side road or saw them up in the darkness.

  “Not much imagination,” she said in relief, once it looked like the immediate danger was past.

  “Nope,” said Dom. “All right. Mind if we take this road for a while? Not crazy about running into them tonight—at least not out here.”

  “Agreed,” she said. “Do you know where you’re going, by the way?”

  “I usually figure it out.” Dom looked over at her. “I, uh, need my arm back.”

  She let go as if he were on fire. “Sorry. Did I cut off your circulation?”

  He shook his head. “I’m fine. Sorry I couldn’t give you more warning. It wasn’t as dangerous as it seemed. My driving, I mean.”

  “If you say so. Anyway, it beats getting caught by that crowd.” She shivered, probably thinking of what that gang had planned for entertainment.

  He gestured to the helmet. “Get that back on. We’ll keep moving.”

  “Wait. What’s your name? You never told me.”

  “Dominic Salem. Dom’s fine. You never told me yours either.”

  She paused, then said, “It’s Vinny.”

  Dom gave her a very long look, letting her know he didn’t believe her for a second. “Okay, then.”

  “Thanks for giving me a ride…Dom.” She fiddled with the helmet. “Hey, how much did this cost?”

  “Don’t worry about it.”

  “Come on.”

  “I said don’t worry about it.”

  “Well, I worry. I don’t like anyone but me paying my way.”

  “It was overpriced. I paid it cause I wanted to get out of there, but you are not paying me what I paid them. It’s a gift.”

  “It’s my birthday next week,” she said, looking at the helmet. Her voice was quiet. She was talking more to herself than to him. Then she looked up. “I don’t do gifts, though. Especially not from some guy I just met.” She bit her lip, once again looking uncertain. “Though I also like having a functional skull.”

  Dom almost laughed. She seemed to have a brain as well as attitude. He wanted that brain to stay intact. “Get the skull protector on, and we can argue about it later.”

  “Count on it.” She put the helmet on, the visor obscuring her face completely.

  Chapter 4

  Dom drove along the new route for about an hour, hoping to get out of Texas before the end of the day. Eventually, the twilight got deep enough to make driving dangerous. The mule deer numbered in the thousands around this part of the country, and they could leap onto the road at any moment.

  Just as he saw a sign marked Private Land—No Trespassing, he heard Pie’s voice in his mind. This area is safe. Nothing beyond the usual dangers. Meaning that while there might be coyotes or bears, there shouldn’t be any ghosts or demons.

  He headed into the marked land, which had a few clumps of pine trees, but mostly dirt and rocks. It was deserted, and there were plenty of spots that would make a good place to sleep. In the deepening night time, Dom selected a spot he liked. He killed the motor and pulled off his helmet.

  “Welcome to the great outdoors,” he announced in the sudden silence after the bike’s roar vanished.

  “Very fancy.” Vinny—or whatever her name actually was—got her helmet off and swung off the bike in less than five seconds.

  Jesus, Dom thought. Am I toxic?

  She looked at him consideringly. “That wasn’t so bad. The motorcycle, I mean.”

  “That’s good news for tomorrow,” Dom said. “Or however long you stick around. Where you headed, by the way?” He expected her to avoid the question, or lie, just as she’d obviously lied about her name. Vinny. Like she was some Brooklyn bartender.

  He released Piewicket from her confinement, and the cat meowed before dashing off into the darkness.

  She said, “I’m headed to my best friend’s place in Seattle. You?”

  “Uh, pretty near there, actually,” he said, surprised at her words. “Though I’ll drop you anywhere before that, if you want.”

  “Am I cramping your style?”

  He shook his head. “You said you don’t like bikes.” Or gifts.

  “I’m getting used to it,” she said. “For some reason, I feel like I won’t fall off. I’ve always been scared of falling off a motorcycle.”

  “You won’t fall off mine.”

  She rolled her eyes, apparently chalking up his comment to cockiness. Whatever. Dom couldn’t exactly explain that he cast a lot of magic to make his ride as safe as supernaturally possible. It was self-preservation, but it worked for anyone who happened to be riding it.

  Then he squinted at her. “Your lipstick’s gone.” Even in the faint light, her whole face looked softer, her lips no longer contrasting sharply against the skin.

  “What? Oh, yeah.” Vinny shrugged. “I wanted to take some pics of the gas station just in case something happened, and the subtle way to do it with the phone is to pretend I’m a vain bitch who needs to touch up in the middle of the desert.”

  “It worked. You sure didn’t look like you were photographing. The red was, um, distracting.”

  She grinned knowingly, showing a flash of white teeth. “That’s what it’s for. I don’t wear it in real life.”

  “Good. I mean…” He trailed off. “Never mind what I mean. You should drink more water. If you were out in the sun half the day, you need it more than you think.”

  Hoping to distract himself, Dom spent several minutes studying a paper map in the light of his phone’s flashlight. There was no reliable signal for an internet search. Finally he looked up. “Good news is that I know where we are.”

&
nbsp; She offered a golf clap, then said, “And the bad news?”

  “Where we are is pretty far from everything. So you’ll have to wait till tomorrow to get rid of me. And we’ve got to camp out.” He gestured to encompass the surroundings.

  He expected her to recoil. She surprised him. Again.

  “Wouldn’t be the first time,” she said easily. “You’d be amazed at the places I slept when I was in a band. This is a lot better than some of them.”

  “Well, I’ve got some gear,” he said. “It’ll be reasonably comfortable.”

  “For you,” she said.

  “What?”

  “Don’t tell me you’ve got spare bedding.”

  “I’m willing to share.”

  She angled her chin up in a defiant, proud pose. “And what exactly do you think I’m sharing?”

  “Hey, hold on. I didn’t ask for anything,” Dom said, his voice heating up despite his efforts to keep cool. Did he hit on her? No. He saved her from heatstroke, and a possible biker gang, and his reward was getting categorized with the creeps?

  “Look,” she said, taking a step back. He could tell she was nervous despite her outwardly tough look. “Don’t take it the wrong way.”

  “You just took me the wrong way,” he said. “I’m supposed to be delighted? And anyway, it’s all practical. Sleeping next to me is still better than letting the hypothermia get you. Deserts get cold at night, Vinny. So yes, we’ll share the blanket and yes, I’ll behave myself,” he added, before she could bring it up again.

  “Oh. Good,” she said, looking apologetic. Then her eyes narrowed. “If you don’t, you will so regret it. I have a knife, and I will use it if I have to.”

  “What are you like when you’re not going out of your way to be charming?” he asked sarcastically.

  “I’m a peach normally,” she said. “This isn’t normal.”

  “Whatever,” said Dom. “Besides, I don’t believe you really have a knife.”

  “You think I’m lying?”

  “You were lying about sending that picture to your friends. There was no signal to send it.”