Chapter 3

Three

Regan

I stayed glued to the pavement, weighing the pros and cons of running.

The bike kept idling, the little lights underneath clicking off as the rider stood up. Black boots, black jeans, a black jacket, and black helmet. There wasn't one thing on him which stood out, and without the sound of the bike idling, I didn't know if I would notice him standing within five feet of me.

He rolled up his sleeves, revealing tattooed hands and forearms that flexed as he moved.

The glint of metal caught my eye as he raised a gun, my stomach plummeting. "Give me your wallet," he demanded, nodding toward Elliot.

I froze, clutching my bag, debating if I would give it up or fight him for it. My life was in this bag, but I wasn't sure how to fight off a man with a gun.

As I hesitated, torn between surrendering or fighting back. Elliot made his choice. He dropped my hand and spun on his heel, running back the way we had come.

He ran.

He fucking ran. Fast, too.

He made it down the block before I could even process what happened.

He had run off and left me there alone on an empty street with a violent man and a gun.

So much for not letting anything happen to me.

The rider turned back, his face still obscured by the helmet, but I felt the weight of his gaze on me. His head tilted slightly, scrutinizing me with an almost predatory curiosity. Slowly, the gun lowered, as he lifted his shirt, revealing the edge of a dark tattoo snaking across his skin. The gun disappeared into his waistband, and when he reached up, I instinctively flinched, expecting the worst. Instead, he only pulled off his helmet.

"Okay, what the fuck?" he asked. "Weren't you two on a date?"

"Um, yeah, we were. We've been dating for six months now," I said, my words spilling out in a daze.

Had Elliot really ran off without so much as a yell for me to follow or glance back to see if I stayed behind him? Did he leave me here so he would have more time to get away?

"Well, that's sure as fuck long enough not to leave you alone with the man trying to rob him. I have a gun pointed at you guys, and he ran? If your choices are to get shot or spend a night walking around an art gallery, I would think it would be an easy choice of getting shot at, but still, he should have at least tried to help you."

I stood there, stunned, as my would-be mugger talked to me like we were friends, like he was surprised at Elliot's behavior.

"I'm sorry. Do you feel sorry for me ?" I asked, finally snapping out of it.

"I mean, more outraged for you, but yeah, he's a pretty pathetic boyfriend. He should be here with his fucking fists raised."

I stepped back towards the building, leaning against the cool brick, using the feel of it under my fingers to bring me back to reality. "Wow. Oh, wow. I'm so pathetic, the man who needs to rob me at gunpoint feels sorry for me?"

"Hold on. Let's get this straight. I was robbing him. I wasn't coming for you."

"No? You had a gun pointed at me!"

"Mainly, I had a gun pointed at him . I only turned it to you for a second. For the shock factor. Your boyfriend owes me money, and I had been the one volunteered to come get it." He shook his head. "Or at least scare him enough to try and get it."

I glanced back at the place Elliot had been next to me. "Well, you managed to scare him, so you accomplished half."

"Yeah, but he doesn't know who I am, so it failed a little. I honestly wasn't expecting him to run away that fast. I didn't even get to do my speech. I couldn't even compare him to running away like a girl. I think one of them would have even stayed longer. Shit, one of them did stay longer."

I laughed, regretting it immediately. I couldn't find my would-be robber funny. I stared up at him. The mask covered the bottom half of his face, and his dark hair was wild from the helmet, and his eyes locked onto me. Unfortunately, my next thought after finding him funny went to how hot he looked.

"Alright, come on," he said, reaching out with his helmet in hand as though I should take it.

"Come on, what?"

"Come on, I'm driving you home. Unlike your boyfriend, I'm not leaving you here on a deserted street, at night, all alone. And I have more stuff to do tonight, so come on, get your ass moving."

"Really? You plan more than one mugging a night? Surprising. And maybe he knows I am a grown, capable woman," I said, straightening my shoulders. Maybe Elliot had only thought I would know how to handle myself and expect me to run with him.

"Considering you didn't even flinch when I pulled up with a gun, I don't doubt it. I thought you were the one who would fight me."

"So, then, what makes you think I can't get home myself?"

He stepped closer, and I could see the blue in his eyes now. The black of his clothes mixed with blue made me think of the painting. The deep, black hues with bright icy blue. It was as beautiful of a picture as the one I had been looking at. He laughed, the deep sound catching my attention again.

"Do you know where you are at? Because if you think you are going to walk home alone from here and not be bothered, you are wrong. And I don't think any Uber is going to be coming down here for you. Either get on my bike or risk coming across someone else."

"What if they are nicer than you?"

"I'm not currently robbing you, touching you, or planning to do either, so what if they are not?"

The deserted street and creepy path were enough to make my skin crawl, but this man had just pointed a gun at me.

"I think you should know I do know how to defend myself, so if you do try to touch me or rob me, I can fight back."

"You have me shaking in fear. Now get on the bike," he said, the bored tone making me chew on my bottom lip. Technically, if I got on, he could take me anywhere.

But if I didn't, I would be left here.

"I don't really get into cars with strangers, or get on the back of motorcycles…well, ever."

"Then congratulations, you're about to be a rebel for what I can only imagine is the first time in your life."

A man yelled something from down the block, and when I glanced back, I could see him coming our way.

"Get on the fucking bike before I have to either force you on it, leave you with the guy walking towards us, or kill him and make you cry. Which, I would then leave you here anyway, but you would be with a dead body and I can't imagine you're good with that."

I grabbed the helmet, pushing my hair back and pulling it on. I could see his smile crack again as he swung his leg over and sat back.

"Good choice, Rebel. You seem to have a brain. What the fuck have you been doing with Elliot?"

"You actually know him?" I asked, pulling open the visor of the helmet. It felt a little loose, but I was happy he at least offered it.

"Oh, yeah. He's well known in our group, and not for the good reasons. Not even the fun, bad reasons," he said with a smirk. "If tonight wasn't enough of an indication, I suggest dropping him. He's also deep in debt, so good for you for keeping an eye on your purse. But I'm not the one who wants it."

He sat back on the bike, and I stood there staring.

"Is this supposed to be my seat?" I asked. The tiny little spot of padding wasn't even going to hold half my ass.

"Yeah, it is. If I have to tell you to get on the fucking bike one more time, we are going to knock down those options I gave you to only one."

"Which one?" I asked, already shaking my head. "No, don't even answer that. You're kind of an asshole, aren't you?"

He cocked his head, his eyes narrowing. "We met when I held a gun to you. You think I'm a sweet, innocent boy?"

"No. Unfortunately, I don't."

Which meant he firmly didn't fit the type of person I usually hung out with, or so I thought. Apparently, Elliot was far from a sweet, innocent boy, too.

I glanced back at the guy coming down the street. Would it be better to go with an insane man on the motorcycle, who kind of looked like he could kill me, but was offering a ride out of this place? Or risk it with the weird one coming down the deserted street?

I had wanted to do more interesting things in my life. Wouldn't getting on the back of a stranger's motorcycle be one of those things?

"How do I get on?" He pointed to the pegs, watching over his shoulder as I put one foot on it and tried to get up. I fell back immediately, landing on my feet, at least.

"You hold on to my shoulders to balance when you get on, not fall backwards like a fucking baby deer," he yelled.

"Well, I didn't know if I could touch you!" I yelled back. I glanced down the road. The guy down the block came closer now.

"Fucking hell. Get on, now. You're about to touch me a hell of a lot more, so yeah, I assumed there would be some hands on me."

I planted my hands on his shoulders, lifting myself up onto the peg and swinging my leg over. "Oh. It's like getting on a horse," I said, trying to sit back on the small seat.

His head dropped forward, and I could feel him shaking now.

"Are you laughing at me?" I asked.

"I've just never had a girl say that as she got on top of me before."

"I'm not on top of you," I said, straightening up on my small seat. He turned the bike on, the loud rumble vibrating through me. He hit something, making the bike jump forward a few inches, and forced a scream from me as I fell forward, grabbing onto him.

"Yes," he said over the bike. "You are on top of me. An arm around my waist or on the tank. You can hold on to me unless we stop or shift, then use the tank to hold yourself up. Don't squeeze the fucking life out of me or I might leave you to walk. If you have a problem, tap me and I'll stop. Don't make me stop because you're scared. Keep it to yourself. If you grab anything lower than my belt, that's your own damn problem because I haven't had a girl on the back of my bike in months and I guarantee you will be feeling something."

"Wow, there are a lot of rules, and I was kind of right about the being an asshole thing."

He turned until he could see me. "You absolutely were. Safety first, Rebel ," he said, slamming my visor down. "Now hold on."