Ride (Bayonet Scars) by JC Emery Page A

can. There’s something in the way that he’s strong and playful at the same time. He keeps me close to him, tucked snugly into his chest. For just a brief moment, as I’m inhaling his scent and his warmth, the rest of the world melts away. There is no danger, no fear, and no rough and rowdy bikers around us. There’s just me and Ryan.
    When Ryan finally lets go of my head, I pull back, smack his chest one final time, and attempt to smooth down my hair. I keep my scowl in place, almost daring him to do it again.
    “You messed up my hair,” I accuse. He gives me a flat look and steps back, leaning on one of the bikes. Nobody moves to protest, so I assume the bike is his.
    Ryan’s bike is a Harley-Davidson —I think they’re all Harleys—but his does look different from the others. While all of the other bikes are chrome with shiny black paint, Ryan’s paint job is a black matte finish. The word FORSAKEN is painted over the matte in a shiny black finish. Without taking his eyes off mine, he reaches for his helmet and hands it to me. Clumsily, I grapple with the thing, surprised by its weight. It looks rather dinky, unlike the one my brother has. Where Michael’s helmet has a window for him to see and covers his entire head, Ryan’s merely covers the top of his head, leaving his face exposed to the elements.
    “Careful, you drop that and it’s no good,” he says. Immediately, I tighten my grip on the helmet and hold it to my chest. I don’t really know what he means, but he’s asked me to be careful. I don’t want to ruin his things.
    “You’re going to need to put it on your head,” Ruby says. She comes up beside me and takes the helmet from my sweaty palms. Placing it on my head, she brushes errant hairs from my face. She’s so close, her eyes are fixed on mine. Her large brown eyes and heart-shaped face contort painfully in a rush of emotion. She brings her hands to my cheeks as her eyes pool with unshed tears. She gives a small smile and whispers, “You’re beautiful.”
    She looks so much like my mother, it’s almost unbearable.
    Jim comes up behind Ruby and places a helmet on her head. It looks exactly like Ryan’s. As he snaps hers into place almost blindly, she pulls herself together and snaps mine into place as well. It’s feels a little loose, but I decide not to make it an issue. There’s too much going on in my brain right now to worry about it.
    Turning back to Ryan, I see he hasn’t moved. His expression is a cross between indifference and sorrow, I just can’t decide which. I wait a moment until he snaps out of it and moves to sit in riding position. With his hands gripping the handlebars he gives me a quick nod and a mischievous smile. I walk awkwardly to the bike, trying to calm my nerves. Having watched these men ride for the past few days, I’ve been both curious and nervous about the prospect of getting on a bike. Up until now, only in my fantasies ha ve I been able to passenger with Ryan.
    Don’t be a baby.
    Smiling at him, I place my right hand on his leather-bound right shoulder, using it for support as I awkwardly swing my left leg over the bike. I find myself on wobbly footing, but Ryan’s right hand grips mine as I dig my nails into his leather vest, and his left arm snakes behind him, pulling me closer to him. With his guidance, I land properly on the back of his leather seat.
    “Not used to having something this big between your legs?”
    “I bet you’d like the answer to that, wouldn’t you?” I say before I can catch myself. Ryan turns just enough so that I can see the lascivious smile that’s spread across his face. His tongue darts out and licks his lips, sending a shiver up my spine. My father would have had a holy fit had he caught me being mouthy in front of his men. Carlo Mancuso likes his women compliant. But the way Ryan’s looking at me, with his eyes practically glazed over, I’m guessing he likes his women mouthy.
    “How long til l Nevada, Cap?”