HeroRising (2 page)

Fear constricted her throat like a cheap scarf as she
watched the stranger calmly wipe the blade clean on his jean-covered thigh. Who
was this guy?

Billy Bob took off, leaving his
compadre
facedown in
the muck. Great friend. The stranger picked up the spitter by the back of the
shirt, and to her slight relief, the creep moaned at the movement. As Billy Bob
sailed past them his friend was tossed into the flatbed like a bag of trash.

Once the roar of the big block engine faded into the
distance, cold set into her bones. Her teeth chattered, the sound louder than
the patter of rain hitting the asphalt.

Stand up! Run! This man is a total badass. Why are you
just sitting here?

Yes, brain. Running was probably an excellent idea. If only
her limbs would fucking move.

Her shaking grew worse as the man turned and stalked in her
direction.

“Stay back,” she managed to mutter, because obviously, he
was going to do what she said.

Despite the ridiculousness of her command, he froze mid-step
then lowered his foot one slow inch at a time.

“I mean you no harm,” he rasped, holding out his hands to
show her they were empty before reaching for his hood and drawing it off his
face.

Hello, handsome.

Oh. My. God.
Ari bit her tongue to keep it from
falling out of her mouth as she stared up at a face Hollywood casting agents
would bet millions on. He wasn’t pretty, not by any stretch, but definitely a
man’s man. Square jaw, high cheekbones, a slightly cricked nose as if it had
been broken once, or many times before. Big surprise there. Not. The rain hid
the true length of his black hair, which she’d describe to the police if the
need arose as overgrown, but his bangs were long, hanging down to frame the
intensity of his dark eyes.

Okay, just because the man was freakishly gorgeous did not
mean she was out of danger. She had no doubt he possessed the power and will to
fuck her up, if he wanted to.

“Can you stand?” he asked in an accent that heated her from
the inside even as chills made her tremble. “Your knees appear badly injured.
Are you hurt elsewhere?”

She shook her head. Where was he from? Somewhere in Europe
maybe. Not Latino. German, maybe Scandinavian? Yeah, when Ari was a kid, her
mother loved a rock band from Norway and this guy looked a lot like the lead
singer. Only darker and a helluva lot more dangerous.

“Are you certain? You’re bleeding quite profusely from the
head. Your hair is all bloody.”

“What?” she shrieked and felt around her scalp. Nothing on
her head hurt or was sore as if she’d been cut.

She pulled her hands free, but only rain covered her skin.
“I’m not bleeding.”

His brow furrowed. “But your hair is bloodied.”

“Oh.” She held up a sodden lock. “That’s just the color. I
guess it does look a little like blood. But I’m okay. Relatively speaking.”

His brows rose and mouth fell open as if he were stunned.
“It’s a most unusual color. I’ve never seen anything like it before.”

For some reason the wonder in his tone made her want to
smile.

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 heat 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.