CHAPTER ONE
Dex
First rule of life: Never let anyone get the jump on you.
Especially in a cemetery.
I take another look around. Rows and rows of headstones. Not another person in sight.
Above me, a crow circles and lets out a mournful caw.
“Me too, buddy,” I whisper, and I sink to my knees on the hard ground.
Cool air drifts over my face—another cruel reminder of all the things we’ve missed. Fall, then the holidays, riding down to Florida for the worst of winter. So many things.
Cold, damp earth soaks through my jeans, chilling my knees and shins. The familiar itch to outrun bad memories tingles in my hands—the urge to twist the throttle, ride the wind, and remind myself that I’m still alive.
After this visit, it’s time to hit the road. Concentrating on the pavement ahead always eases the pain of my past. Quiets the noise in my head. Never quite fills the hole in my heart, though.
“Dex?” A soft voice breaks the silence.
Like a tornado, I jump to my feet, reach under my cut to grab my pistol, and face the intruder.
Short, wavy red layers fall past her chin, dusting her shoulders to frame her perfectly heart-shaped face.
Emily.
A violent wind sweeps through the air, picking up the long skirt of her dress and tossing it around her legs. She slaps her hands against her thighs, halting the material’s wild dance. A hesitant smile lifts the corners of her mouth. So unlike her. Every other time we’ve run into each other, she’s been confident and unafraid to speak her mind. An undercurrent of darkness that calls to my own always seems to flow under her words and actions, though.
“Didn’t anyone ever tell you not to sneak up on a biker in a cemetery?” I growl, irritated by the fondness I seem to have for this woman who should be off-limits to me.
I shove my pistol back in its holster and fake a smile to take the sting out of my violent reaction. Emily’s important to a brother’s ol’ lady. She’s under my club’s protection. I need to reel in my irritation. It’s not her fault I’m so agitated.
Why is she here of all places? Why today of all days did I have to run into her?
“I…well. . .” Her anxious words are almost swallowed by another sudden gust of wind.
My gaze slides over her curvy figure without my permission. The long, black dress seems out of character for her bold personality. Then my brain kicks in. We’re standing in a cemetery, for fuck’s sake.
“What happened? Are you okay?” I ask.
“Yes. Well, no.” She glances down at her dress as if she’d forgotten what outfit she chose this morning. “It’s my parents’ anniversary.” She sweeps her arm toward the long rows of grave markers behind us. “I didn’t mean to interrupt you.” Her nervous gaze slides to the headstone where I’d been paying my respects. I shift to block it with my body.
“What’s wrong?” I hate the sharp, impatient bite to my question but can’t seem to control my mouth this morning.
“I…I’m so embarrassed. My car won’t start.” She waves her phone in the air between us. “I was walking around trying to get a signal. I saw the motorcycle…thought I recognized you…” Her voice falters as if she wishes she’d never started this conversation. “God, I’m so rude. Please forgive me.”
Guilt prickles over my scalp. Grinder would kick my ass up and down the Thruway if he knew I was being so disrespectful to Serena’s best friend.
I swallow the agony and anguish that wrapped around my throat the second I rode through the cemetery gates. “Let me take a look at it,” I offer.
“No hurry. Take your time,” she says in a nervous rush. “I’m way over there.” She waves wildly toward the dirt path that serves as a road through the cemetery.
“I’m done.” I jerk my chin. “Lead the way.”
“Oh. Okay. Thank you.” She twists a loose chunk of hair around her finger then tucks it behind her ear. Again, she tries to peer over my shoulder and again, I block her view.
Pink spreads over her cheeks and she turns. The bottom of her dress sweeps over the too-long blades of grass. Someone needs to cut the grass, show some damn respect for the dead.
The burst of wind dies down, now only a ruffle through the trees. I scan the rolling green hills. We seem to be the only people here.
Suddenly, Emily tips to the side, arms flailing in the air. I hurry to steady her with a hand at her waist.
“Careful,” I warn.
Gingerly, she wiggles her foot and tugs the heel of her shoe out of the soft earth.
Against me, she’s warm and soft. Her head barely reaches my shoulder. She turns to peer up at me, the ends of her hair sliding over my leather cut. A hint of sugary vanilla tickles my nose.
“Stupid heels,” she murmurs, taking slower steps. “Dumb choice, I know.”
“You look nice.” The urge to slide my hand over hers strikes me and I release her as fast as I’d toss a lit match. What’s wrong with me? This isn’t the time or place for a hand-in-hand stroll. Even if it was, she’s not the woman I should be walking with.
“Thank you.”
My bike’s parked at the end of the row and she quickens her steps as it comes into view.
“How far away is your car?” I ask.
“Over there.” She points, and in the distance I make out a dark red sedan parked half on the grass, half on the gravel. The only other vehicle in the area. “Do you want to meet me?” She nods to my bike.
That would make more sense, but she almost fell once. I scuff my boot against the hard-packed dirt and gravel path. Hate to see her twist an ankle on the uneven ground. And I’d ask Rock to strip my road captain patch if I let her ride on the back of my bike the way she’s dressed—even a short distance.
“No, I’ll come back and get it.”
“I really am sorry I interrupted you.” She ducks her head and powers forward.
“It’s fine. Cell service sucks out here.”