Читать книгу Black Rock Guardian - Jenna Kernan, Jenna Kernan - Страница 13
ОглавлениеOutside, the world was dark except for the single spotlight fixed above the bar, illuminating the rutted dirt parking area before the roadhouse. In the windows, the neon glow of beer advertising sent beams of bright color reflecting off the windshields of dusty pickup trucks.
“I’m this way,” she said, leading him to the darkest portion of the lot.
Ty dragged her between two trucks and kissed her again. This time she did not kiss him for show. Oh, no, this time she let herself enjoy each nerve-tingling second. But when his hand moved from her lower back to her backside, she stepped away.
“The bike?” she reminded him.
“Yeah, but I’m figuring that if I fix it, you might use it to get away.”
She smiled at him. He really was a handsome man. Such a shame he’d chosen so poorly in life. Those dark eyes gleamed with the promise of pleasure, and his mouth turned up in a way that offered a challenge she was tempted to accept. It was a winning combination. Especially when coupled with the hard jawline, straight nose and dark, slashing eyebrows. His hair was a windblown mess, as if he didn’t care how it looked or, perhaps, understood that his mop of hair begged a woman to comb her fingers through the tangles. She indulged herself in the impulse as her eyes feasted on the quintessential bad boy.
The tribe should make warning posters about this one. Still, she was tempted. So tempted to see what he had.
“You need a shave,” she said. His hair was as thick as a horse’s tail. She drew her hand back and touched her own cheek. “You’re giving me razor burn.”
“I have a razor at my place,” he said.
The man did not waste time.
“Unfortunately, I can’t ride there. My bike...” She offered him a regretful look, but her eyes offered something else.
“Let’s go see.”
She led the way across the rutted, dusty lot. He fell into step just behind her left shoulder.
“What kind of sled you have?”
“It’s a BMW F800GT.”
He whistled as his hand stroked her bike, starting at the leather saddle and gliding all the way up to the instruments until his long fingers finally wrapped around one grip.
Beth shivered in response to that sensual glide, and he hadn’t even touched her.
“Rich,” he said. He stretched out his fingers and then wiped his hand across his flat stomach.
Beth’s skin flushed and she found she needed a long intake of air. “I got it used off a guy who...well, he gave me a good price.” She let him wonder about that. The bike was truly hers. She had purchased it at a police auction and knew it had been owned by a man who liked to gamble with his clients’ money. The way she figured it, a bike like this deserved a better owner.
She’d parked it at an angle so no one parked too close and so she could push it out, if necessary.
“You rode in here?” asked Ty, turning his attention to the bike.
“Yeah. It died at the diner. So I checked what I could and then did a push-start. Lucky the diner is on a hill. Got it going all right.”
Ty looked at the bike. “Battery, maybe.”
“It’s fine. Nearly new.”
“You might have left the headlight on when you were in the diner.”
She flipped on the headlight, which glowed brightly.
She pointed to the console. “Says it’s good, plus I flipped back the saddle and tested one of the terminals to ground. It arced just fine.”
“Gas?” he asked.
She cut her gaze away. “Please.”
“So I won’t ask if the kickstand was up and the sled in Neutral.”
“You try and start it,” she said.
He straddled the bike. She couldn’t believe it, but he looked even more handsome. The neon glow from the beer signs illuminated his high cheekbones, and a lock of hair fell over his forehead as he tried and failed to get the bike started.
“How are the plugs?” he asked.
“Good, I think.”
“Well, then I’d say you have gunk in the fuel lines. Maybe the clutch starter. Bike needs air, fuel and spark. We know you have spark and fuel, so...”
She swore as if surprised it was not a quick repair.
“Did the guy at the diner mention that I have a garage?”
Beth nodded.
“I live above my garage.”
Which she knew, but it was obvious he wanted her to know where the closest bed might be.
“You want me to bring it tomorrow morning?”
“Now is good.” He gestured with his thumb over his shoulder. “Only thing, you’ll have to drive. I already had too much to drink.”
Which was interesting because she knew from Jake that Ty Redhorse did not drink.
“I don’t think I want a drunk working on my bike.”
“I could fix a carburetor drunk or asleep.”
“Nobody drives my bike.”
He slid back on the seat. “You want me to bump-start the bike with you on the back?”
He wiggled his eyebrows and she accepted the challenge.
“What about your bike?” she asked.
“In good hands.”
No one would touch his bike. He had the protection of the Wolf Posse and tribal police, since his brother was on the force.
“Just out of curiosity, how were you planning to get home?”
“I never plan that far ahead,” said Ty.
“You don’t look or act or smell drunk,” said Beth.
“Maybe I just can’t resist lying flat across your back or maybe I want to see what an eight-hundred-cc inline engine feels like. It’s a tour bike. Plenty of room.”
“If you fix my bike, I’m paying for the repair and I’m not sleeping with you.”
“If you say so.”
Had she anticipated an argument? She didn’t expect him to give up so easily. But maybe he figured, wrongly, that he could change her mind. He was too charming and too good with that sexy mouth. She imagined he wouldn’t disappoint in the bedroom. But her plan involved trapping him, not the other way around. Sleeping with him would give him power, and she was not going into that meeting tomorrow in a position of weakness.
“You got a helmet?” she asked, retrieving hers.
“Never wear one.”
Of course he didn’t. Another bad decision, she thought.
“Then let’s go.” She lifted her leg and slipped it neatly over the saddle, then knocked back the kickstand. Once she had the bike in Neutral and the clutch in, she rocked them forward and turned the wheel away from the line of trucks. It took a moment for gravity to grab hold, but by the time they reached the road they were gliding at five miles an hour. She shifted with her foot to second, waited until they hit fifteen miles an hour and then popped the clutch. The engine turned over and she gave it some gas. A moment later, they were ripping down the road.
“Where’s your shop?”
He called directions as he slipped his hands around her waist. It felt good, riding with him. She loved the bike, despite what her mother thought, and knew that in this, at least, they would find common ground.
His body warmed her back as they raced in the direction of Koun’nde, one of three settlements here on the Turquoise Canyon Apache Indian Reservation.
After a few minutes he pointed out his place. The two-story building was mostly dark except for the floodlight over the double-bay doors. She could see a row of windows above the shop and knew that was where he lived.
She rolled up to the bay doors and cut the engine. Something moved to her left, an animal, big and black. Beth startled.
“That’s just my dog, Hemi.”
She glanced back at him. “Like the motor?”
His smile showed a kind of appreciation that warmed her far more than it should have. “That’s right.”
He slid off the bike and she removed her helmet, leaving it on the seat.
“Nice ride,” he said, and then he turned to Hemi and scratched her behind the ears. “Hemi, this is Beth.”
She dropped the kickstand and straddled the bike, offering her hand to the canine, who had a definite wolfish look to her.
“Hey there, Hemi,” said Beth.
Hemi took two steps in her direction and then dropped to the ground, her head between her front paws. Beth’s brow wrinkled as she watched the dog, trying to interpret this odd behavior.
“What’s with that?” she asked, lifting her gaze to Ty, who was now scowling at her.
“You packing?”
“What?”
“Hemi says you’re carrying a gun.”
Beth eyed the dog. Likely his brother would have warned her about the gunpowder-sniffing dog if she’d told anyone what she had in mind. She hadn’t because the chances were too great that Jake would tip off his big brother.
Forrest had agreed, but she had only one shot, because every agent he put on the abduction case was one less on the eco-extremist investigation.
Beth set her jaw and glared at the dog.
“So what is it?” asked Ty.
She opened her jacket and showed him the holster and her service weapon. She did not show him the FBI shield she had around her neck and under her blouse.
Ty’s expression went grim and all anticipation left his eyes. They went flat and lifeless. He looked at her as if she had disappointed him. That would be ironic.
“I don’t allow weapons in my place.”
“Girl’s got a right to protect herself.”
“Deal breaker,” he said.
“You act like you’re on parole.”
That made him glare. So he didn’t like being painted as a criminal, even if that was just what he was.
“Not on parole,” he said, raking a hand through his hair. “Tell you what. I’ll get you started again. Take it to Piňon Forks. Spend the night at the casino and call Ron in the morning.” He grabbed a pen from his shop and extended his hand for hers. She gave it to him and he wrote a number on the palm of her hand.
Was he actually sending her off? Beth couldn’t believe it and she really couldn’t believe that her disappointment was way more physical than emotional. Damn him and that kiss.
“He’s good with bikes,” said Ty.
“Where’s his shop?”
“Across from the police station. You know where that is, right?”
He didn’t wait for her to answer, just positioned himself behind her bike. She didn’t even have her helmet on when he started to push as if he could not wait to be rid of her.
But he wasn’t. Not by a long shot.
