"Shit," I mutter.
This alarms Zella, and she snaps her head toward me, grabbing the oh-shit handle above her door when I slam on my breaks and pull off to the side of the road. "What's happening?"
I ignore her panic as I maneuver the Jeep to a stop. Smoke billows up from the hood as I shut the car off.
"Shit," I grumble under my breath.
"Ryker, what just happened?"
"We overheated. That's what just happened. Stay here." I unbuckle and check my side mirror to see if anyone is coming down the two-lane highway. We've been pretty much the only car on the road today, so I'm not surprised when I see open road in both directions.
Jumping out of the Jeep, I walk to the front and pop the hood.
Immediately, I'm assaulted with smoke. I leap back, waving it away and out of my face.
I hear the slam of a car door and wonder if we've been rescued when Zella comes to stand next to me. Figures she wouldn't listen and stay in the car like I asked.
"I'd feel better if you'd stay in the car, Zella." I glare down at her. She's wearing tight gray capris that look painted on, a purple T-shirt that says, "best day ever" on it, and matching purple flip flops, which I'm glad to see her wearing. Who knows what we might find out here.
"I wanted to see what's going on. Plus, what's the big deal?" She lifts her arms from her side and makes a show of looking around at our surroundings. "There's nothing to worry about."
"It's nearly dark, we are in no-man's-land, and I would feel better if you got back into the car." I look back at the engine; most of the smoke has cleared.
She giggles beside me. "What? You think the boogie man might get us? Or I don't know... maybe a lizard? I heard lizards out in these parts can be ravenous."
I get it. She's making fun of me. Still, I don't want her getting hurt. I move closer to the Jeep and ask, "Why don't you go look up the nearest town. Maybe search for a mechanic or something in case I can't fix this."
She giggles again. "Roger that."
Good.
She's heading back to the car now, but before she opens the door, she adds, "For the record, I'm only getting back in the car because I'm hungry, and there are snacks in here. I wouldn't want to draw the attention of the ravenous lizards with the tasty smells of my yummy snacks."
I bite back my grin as she climbs back in the car and shuts the door.
11
Ryker
After a few minutes of staring down at the engine, it's no use. The thing is hot, and I can't fix the issue right now, even if I wanted to. I crouch down to look under the car. There's a drip. Fuck. I bet I've got a coolant leak. I need a professional.
I leave the hood propped open, walk back, and get into the car. "I can't fix it," I growl as I sit down.
"Well, unfortunately, we have crappy signal out here. We have very slow Internet, but no bars. I can't call anyone. There is a restaurant about three miles up this road. Then past that, a town that has a mechanic. We can walk to the restaurant and call from there." She reaches behind her seat and grabs her small purse and shoves her phone inside. I grab my own from the middle dash, and we get out of the car.
"Stay close, Ryker. I want to make sure you're safe from the lizards and boogie men." She chuckles because she's just so funny.
"Watch it, Blondie," I bark, but my bite is half-hearted. I can't fight my smile when she's acting like she's my bodyguard. I nudge her away from me but not far, as our arms are touching. "If anyone is going to protect someone, it's going to be me."
She shakes her head and mutters something about men under her breath.
The walk isn't bad, but it takes us a little more than an hour. When the restaurant comes into view, I notice that this isn't just any restaurant. No, Blondie here leads us to a biker bar. Unease settles deep in my gut.
"Uh, Blondie, this is not a restaurant." I move closer to her. Who knows who's out here?
"That's what it was listed under online. Cuddle Ducks. It's such a cute name." She's such a girl, getting sidetracked by cute things.
"This place is a biker bar. They don't take kindly to outsiders. They are not people you want to mess with." I issue my warning as we get closer.
"I've heard of bikers, but I've never seen them in the wild."
She's mocking me; I can hear the laughter in her voice. I grumble.
She continues her mockery, "Are they thugs and ruffians, Ryker? How are we to deal with thugs and ruffians?" She leans into me and grabs hold of my arm. Instinct has me starting to shake her off, but the unease in my gut turns into something else entirely, and I have the urge to pull her in closer to me, to wrap my arm around her waist, and show her what happens when she gives me a hard time. It turns me on, that's what fucking happens.
She giggles and doesn't let me go.
I stop as we come up to the bar. It's ranch-style with reddish-orange paneling. There are dozens of bikes parked out front, and rock music can be heard from outside and from across the street where we stand. There are stairs to the side that wrap up to the side of the building and leads to, what looks like, a rooftop deck.
The hairs on the back of my neck prickle with the feel of being watched. I pull out my phone, and damn it, still no signal.
"Zella, listen to me." Using her real name causes her to look up at me with seriousness. "You aren't twenty-one, and neither of us belongs to this particular club. We won't be welcome, but we need a mechanic and a way into town. Don't draw attention to yourself. I'm going to sit you down at a table near the door, and I'm going to find a phone. Sound like a plan?"
"Don't draw attention to myself. Get in and out quick. Got it." She nods with determination.
"All right." I blow out a breath. "Let's do this."
We cross the street, with me gripping her hand, and walk up to the bar. I pull open the door, and loud music pours out of the building. Walking inside, we take in the room. The smell of cigarettes fills my nostrils, and I grip Zella's hand again. The floor is sheet vinyl, like the kind you might find in a workshop. Aluminum covers the bar tops, and dozens of neon signs line the walls. The tables are high with bright orange tops and black leather-backed stools. Several pool tables line the back as well as a jukebox.
My eyes land on the jukebox at the same time I hear Zella make a tiny, delighted sigh. I pull her close and whisper down into her ear, "Whatever you do, don't touch that jukebox, Blondie. Bikers are known to not take kindly to outsiders messing with their music." She nods, and I find an empty booth near the door. As planned, she slides in. I make eye contact with her. "Don't move, and don't piss anyone off."
She smiles up at me. "Aye' aye, Capitan."
I turn on my heel and walk up to the bar, where a big, hairy bartender glares daggers at me.
I smile and turn on my charm. "Good evening, sir. My lady and I had some car troubles down the road a bit, and I need to find a mechanic." I give him my best, I'm-not-here-looking-for-any-trouble smile, and it does nothing for me. If the look he's shooting my way could kill, I'd be six feet under.