He caught me off guard, and then did it again just by standing there in his black pants and the white tank shirt. He really was incredible, with a long, sculpted torso, long legs and strong shoulders. His dirty blond hair was a mess, and that start of a beard was sexy. The deeper angles of his face and those blue eyes were overwhelming. His body was attractive, but his eyes were killer. The depth, the volume of pure, raw feelings, would make any girl do anything he asked just to have all that attention and affection on her. If he could feel that deeply, who wouldn’t want to be by his side to be the person he felt so deeply about?
“Kind of hard to do that when you keep it in a display case,” I said. I was looking for anything to distract my heart from getting too excited. It wasn’t just his looks, either. It was now knowing about the bikes and the art, that he owned his own business. He was a secret spy that tried to do good for other people when called upon. So many surprising talents in one person.
What could I do? Steal a wallet? Big deal. He was super-hot and could make a bike look like it’s on fire.
I tried to find something else to talk about. “So what are we waiting on?”
“We need to sit still a minute,” Brandon said. “I need a confirmation from Corey about what we’re doing.” He smirked and then strolled forward. He stood beside me, examining his work on the fire bike. “This one took a month. The light effect was the hardest.”
“Why?”
“The wiring was a complication,” he said. “And to make it look real without looking stupid. Everyone wants a bike like Ghost Rider.” He turned his gaze to me, focusing on my face. I met his eyes and then regretted it because I was hooked. They swallowed me up, unrelenting.
“I don’t think it turned out too bad,” he said, his voice quieter
“No,” I said. I was fumbling for some compliment to let him know how amazing it really was, but my twisted brain didn’t give out compliments very well. “Not bad.”
The corner of his mouth lifted higher. He inched closer, putting an arm around my shoulders casually. The edges of his nails teased my skin as he held on tight. He turned to the bike, staring at the flickering lights. As he did, his fingertips traced along the edge of my collarbone, dragging his fingernails across in a gentle scratch. “Next time I get a chance, We’ll take it out. Want to light up Charleston with me?”
My insides lit up, feeling as hot as the bike looked. Telling myself to get it together, that I didn’t need this complication now didn’t do any good. Now that I’d let him in, he was chipping away at my heart. When he said things like that, it made me forget why I had pushed him away in the first place. “Why wait? Might be our last chance,” I said.
His arm around my shoulder drew me in closer, and his other hand came up, the palm pressed to my cheek until I was forced to focus on his face. Those eyes darkened. He spoke in a low voice, with the hint of a growl under the surface. “I keep my promises, you know. All of them. I’ll get us out of this mess.”
I stared back at him. In my way, I was pleading with him to continue, even as my brain was telling me we shouldn’t. So much was at stake; we could die. Axel and Marc were poisoned and we needed to hurry.
I couldn’t stop the swell in my heart, the hope at what he’d said out loud, and all the promises he hadn’t. His eyes were telling me we’d get through this, and in the end, he’d be there and he wanted to show me things I never could imagine. Things about him that I still wanted to discover.
“When we’re free of this,” he whispered. “I’ll take you for a ride. Wherever you want.” He leaned closer into me. He stopped just short, his mouth close to mine, close enough that I could feel his breath on my lips.
For the longest moment, he hovered there, as if he were testing me.
All I did was move my head forward an inch until my lips touched his. I couldn’t help it. I’d missed him, feared him dead. I’d already kissed him before, and it felt natural now.
After my touch, Brandon did the rest.
He kissed hard, like he had before at the aquarium. I knew then that his kiss would never be soft, tender. He couldn’t be. He was too passionate. Like the depth of his eyes, his kiss would go deeper and seek out your soul. He would go as far as he needed to make sure you felt as strongly as he did. He wanted to make sure I was ready to go that far.
I wanted to. Even through the chaos of not thinking I’d ever see him again, I’d thought about how he’d kissed me before, and thought myself the worst jerk in the world for not being able to choose between him and Axel and Marc. He was a good guy, and deserved better.
And then that thought struck me. I was getting in deep with Brandon and with all of them, and I was going to tear them all apart if I kept going. I did need Axel after all. If we all lived through this, I needed to let them all know the truth. That I was a mess of feelings and I cared about them and if it meant I needed to sacrifice myself and leave to save their friendship, I’d do it. I couldn’t hurt Brandon and the others anymore. It was the first time, outside of my brother, that I cared about anyone. I saw their little group and suddenly craved belonging in it. Knowing someone else had my back, who would be patient with me, even when I was distant and feeling alone. I admired them. They knew things I wanted to know. They did things I wanted to participate in. It was hard not to fall for guys who were so good-looking and talented. The fact that I was surrounded by them daily, even though I’d kept my distance, was time with them, and I was slowly losing my ability to simply walk away and never come back.
When he kissed me then, I clung to him, desperate to hold onto him, afraid of losing him again.
He slowed his kiss then. He held my face in his hands and then pulled back, half opening his eyes. “Kayli,” he breathed.
“Brandon...” I whispered, fighting back the emotion building in my throat. We were alive. We’d been running since the night before, when we were in the trunk of a car together, sure we were going to die. We’d been given another chance, and while we could run away, we were heading into battle again soon, and didn’t want to waste a moment.
I swallowed hard, but stared at him, unable to stop the pain from creeping in again at the thought of Axel and Marc captured by a team that was possibly torturing them to get out information.
“I know,” he said. He traced his thumbs across my cheek and massaged gently. “I know you’re going through a lot of shit. And now we’re in the middle of this. And it’s all my fault.”
“We don’t have time for that,” I said. I wanted to take the blame, too, but we could argue that point later. “This is the German—Eddie—who put us in the middle of it. We can take care of him later. Let’s get this core.”
He sucked in a breath, breaking away from me to turn and stare at the fire bike. I was suddenly cold and wanted him back but bit my tongue. We’d had our moment, and now we needed to focus.
“I don’t want to just hand over this core, that’s the thing. I also don’t want anyone else killed, Eddie or not, this is way too deep. We should have the FBI in on this, but I’m worried they’ll be too late by the time they catch up.”
I didn’t really want to get close to the police but if we could shirk these guys by getting authorities after them, that’d be great. I saw his point, though. Trying to explain our story to them, they might not be able to save them, and we wouldn’t be able to trade a core, or anything else, after that point.
I swallowed and took a step back. I covered myself with my arms, leaning back against the work table, trying to push back my messed up feelings for now. These people won’t be that easy to get. They knew a lot more about Corey and us than we knew about them. But they didn’t know the difference between Corey and Brandon. I guess we had that going.
And they didn’t know about the Academy.
“What do we do?” I asked. “Shall we go talk to Doyle?”
He raked his fingers through his messy hair. “You said you checked out Randall and his phone got stolen. Eddie was pretty sure this other gr
oup got that. They were looking into Randall, and trying to trace that phone number, but it was shut down before we got a chance to even try. I didn’t know what I was doing, but I could pretend. Our next step, for them, was to find you, because I wasn’t going to do anything if I thought another team was going after you. I said I wouldn’t help them at all unless you were safe.”
“Was that true?” I asked.
He looked at me, his eyes and the sun-kissed touches to his blond hair were colored with the lights from the bike shining in them. “What?”
“Were you not going to work without me, or did you use that as an excuse to escape?”
He stared at me for the longest time, quiet, his eyes intense on mine.
Before I could react with a retort, he closed the space between us and kissed my lips briefly, holding onto my cheek. He kept his head close as he pulled back a fraction and held my gaze.
“Both,” he said. “I thought if I could find you, Axel would see us coming and could hunt them, and we would finally end this. They followed you to the aquarium, and then let me out of the trunk to get me to lure you out.”
“But Alice already had Axel and Marc by the time you found me. They were already gone when you showed up.”
“We were too late,” he said.
“How did you know I was in that room?”
“That was what was taking so long. They had their guys watching the exits so I had to get to you and find another exit they weren’t covering. At some point they must have followed me inside to make sure I didn’t try to run off with you. Not that it worked.”
I pulled away. I breathed in slowly, taking in the situation. Alice had intervened even without this Eddie noticing. “You might be bugged,” I said. “Axel found some on me. We thought they were from the Germans...Eddie.”
Brandon sighed. “Wherever they’re from, we don’t need either team finding us again. Let me change clothes.”
I followed him back into the office, and from a standing shelf, he pulled down a T-shirt and a sweatshirt, both saying Henshaw Customs over the pocket. He passed the sweatshirt to me and put on the T-shirt. From the same shelf, he took down a pair of work boots and a pair of jeans. He changed quickly, turning his back on me when he changed his pants and I averted my eyes to give him privacy.
“Don’t we need to take a shower to wash out the bugs?” I asked.
“They had you do that?” he asked.
“I took a bath at the pineapple fountain downtown,” I said.
Brandon smirked. He plucked a comb from a desk and then filled a cup of water from a water cooler in the corner and started to comb through his hair and behind his ears. “Water alone will usually take care of bugs like this. I don’t exactly have a shower here.”
“You change here often enough that you keep clothes on tap?”
“If I’m neck-deep building a bike, I usually lose track of time. This is for when I need to get going.”
“Do you have a pair of boots around?” I asked. I showed him my flip-flops. “These aren’t my style.”
He grinned and then found me another pair of boots. They were too big for my feet, but I could clomp around in them with the laces tied tight enough. I skipped on trying to wear a pair of his jeans, but put on the sweatshirt.
Once he was done, he headed back into the garage, looking at the range of motorcycles. I followed.
“I think we should...” he said. “I don’t know...”
“Let’s go talk to Doyle.”
“Doyle?” he asked. “Are you sure we’re not asking for trouble? He is friends with Blake Coaltar after all.”
“Doyle’s got access to phones,” I said. “I was trying to tell Axel and Marc we should… it was Axel’s next move after the aquarium.” Again, a lie, but couldn’t be helped now.
“I don’t have another idea right now,” he said. “I don’t like it, but if Axel thought it was okay.”
I smothered the urge to grimace. “Yup. That was our next move, all right.”
“Think you can find him again?” he asked. “Do you remember the way?”
I nodded. I didn’t exactly recall the address, but I remembered the directions. I’d recognize it driving up, especially since it was still daylight. I pointed to his bike in the case. “Why not take the flame one?” I asked.
“We need something quieter. We’re doing the spy thing, remember?”
“You just said the spy word,” I quipped. “We’re not supposed to say it.”
He smirked. “You’re the worst spy ever.”
“You just said it again.”
He selected a black bike, a newer model with very clean lines. It looked like a toy compared to the more Harley-looking motorcycles nearby.
He passed me a full face helmet from one of the shelves. It was brand new, and still had the plastic on it. He grabbed another one hanging on a hook. Must have been his as it was worn and had different etched drawings on it like tattoos in a mish-mash.
Within minutes he had the bike ready to go. I climbed onto the back and he took off.
The bike was quieter than any motorcycle I’d ever heard before. Spy bike.
When we were on the road, I instantly regretted not taking a pair of jeans. My legs froze. The only heat I had was from the bike, or Brandon, and I couldn’t put my legs as close as I wanted to his.
My arms wrapped around his stomach, hanging on.
When he had to stop at a red light, he let go of the handlebar and cover my hand with his. He’d squeeze it, reassuring.
And I knew that the moment we’d solved this thing and our lives weren’t being threatened, he’d be on me about a relationship update. He would be eager to figure this out as soon as possible.
And the only thing that scared me was that I didn’t have an answer for him.
LISTENER
Picking our way through Hannahan on the back of his bike was more complicated than I had thought it would be. It was hard to see around him and the scenery kept flying by at the speed he was going. He kept having to stop when we got to the old country roads and I was trying to remember the directions.
“We could just call Coaltar,” Brandon said.
“Do we really want him to know what’s going on?” I asked. “Besides, after I wrecked his car, he’s probably pissed. He hasn’t talked to me since then.”
“I can’t believe I even suggested it. I don’t know anymore,” he said and then yawned. The circles under his eyes told me he was dragging as much as I was. “Tell me Doyle drinks coffee.”
It took another half hour of riding on the bike, stopping to check where we were, before I found the street that would lead us to Doyle’s place.
Once we were there, it was unmistakably his place. There were satellite dishes in the yard, although it seemed there were a few new ones added. I wondered how no one noticed this. From the main road, it was hard to find, but I was sure if a helicopter or plane went over it, they’d see it.
Did planes go over this bit of Hannahan?
Brandon parked the bike a distance from the front door. He fixed his Henshaw Customs T-shirt as it was stuck into his body. I got off the bike, ripping off the helmet. It was stuffy. My hair fell around my shoulders and I combed my fingers through it, finding windblown tangles at the ends.
Brandon’s hair was stiff against his head when he took his helmet off. One stroke of his hand through his hair, and it was fixed. I was jealous. I wasn’t really concerned about my looks, but I knew tackling my hair with a brush later would be a painful experience. Maybe I needed to chop it off.
We started slowly up the path to the house. I was eyeballing the satellites, trying to count them. Brandon inspected our surroundings, looking awestruck at the museum of satellite dishes. Before we could make it to the front door, a loud gunshot cracked through the air.
Brandon immediately jumped on me, pushing me down to the ground. I got a mouthful of grass. I fought against him to spit it back out.
“If you know what’s be
st for you, you’ll get off my fucking lawn,” shouted a voice, a hint of Irish behind the bellowing.
“Doyle!” I cried out. “It’s Kayli!”
“I don’t know a Kayli!”
I pushed Brandon off of me, crawling up on my knees. Doyle was on the porch, with a shotgun pointed up and out toward a tree. I imagined that was what he’d shot at as warning to go away.
Doyle’s thin face looked almost white under the natural light. His dimpled chin jutted out and his eyes were buggy under his mop of unruly hair. “Go away,” he said. He wore rumpled jeans and a wrinkled T-shirt, the white writing on it faded so much it was unreadable. “Get!” he cried out at us, like chasing off a cat.
“I’m the friend of Blake’s. Remember?”
He squinted at me. “Blake who? I don’t know a Blake. I don’t know anything. I don’t know words, even. What are words?”
“This is useless,” Brandon said. “Let’s get out of here before we get shot.”
I put my hands out and stood up slowly. Doyle pointed the gun toward me, without really aiming it at me. He made a face. “Whatever you want, I don’t have it,” he said.
“I just need help,” I said. “I need to know...”
“Nope!” he said. He took one hand off the gun and stuck a finger in his ear. “I don’t care. I don’t want to know. The only thing you could possibly need me for is something I don’t need to know. When I helped Blake last week, I got more than I bargained for.”
What did Blake do last week? “You don’t have to look up anything,” I said, lying. I wanted him to hear me out. I came closer, taking it one step at a time. I had a feeling he was all bluff. He was too lazy to bury two bodies so he wouldn’t bother to shoot us.
“Kayli,” Brandon hissed behind me.
Doyle fumbled with his gun. “Don’t you do it,” he said.
“Do you know about Murdock’s Core?” I spit out quickly.
Doyle made a face and twisted his features. “God...damn...shit...” He snarled and twisted away, pulling the gun around and holding it in his arms sideways. “Why the hell did you have to ask about that?”