much as she could.
Squeezing the right brake lever to avoid any surprise wheelies, she straddled the bike and eased it upright between her legs. From atop the beautiful machine, it was a long way down those front forks to the front wheel.
In fact, the bike seemed bigger, now she was straddling it. Really big. And really dangerous. Even if she could get it started, the thing weighed more than she did and it would be a stretch for her feet to reach the pegs. It was way too much bike for her to handle….
She shut her eyes tight and called up Mark’s words in her mind.
Where is your spark?
When she opened her eyes again, she was ready. She was going to do it. She would not wimp out.
Using her heel, she guided the side stand up. She put the bike in neutral, released her grip on the brake and walked it around so it faced the driveway on the side of the house.
Then she turned the fuel valve to the on position and used her screwdriver to pry off the metal ignition cap, revealing the battery and ignition wires.
After that, it was so simple. She stuck the screwdriver in one back pocket and the ignition cap in the other and she twisted those wires together.
The big engine roared to life. She turned on the lights, pressed the clutch, shifted into gear and eased the clutch out as she gave it gas.
Chapter Two
“Did you hear that?” Jericho frowned at his brother.
The sudden roar began to travel. It rumbled along the side of the house, back to front.
“Sounds like your bike,” Ash said, looking puzzled.
Jericho glanced over his brother’s shoulder, out the window that faced the front of the house, just in time to see Tessa’s crazy sister rolling off down the street under the golden light of the streetlamps. She was riding his bike.
He said, “Your sister-in-law just stole my bike.”
Ash looked at him like he was the one with a screw loose.
Jericho decided not to argue. “I need to borrow a car.”
“Rico …”
“A car, Ash. Now.”
Ash let out a weary sigh and fished a set of keys from his pocket. “The Mercedes. First door on the end, by the fence.”
It took a few minutes to get to the Mercedes, get it started, get the garage door up and get rolling. That was a few minutes too long, as far as Jericho was concerned.
By the time he reached the street, Tessa’s disturbed sister was long gone. He rolled down all the windows so he could hear the bike if he got anywhere near it and he turned the car in the direction she’d been headed when she passed in front of Ash’s study.
At the corner, a T intersection, he took a wild guess and went right, figuring a rider unfamiliar with a big bike would take the easy turn, given a choice. After that, he went straight until the fork in the road, where he veered to the right again and tried not to think about the damage that could be done to an expensive piece of machinery with a crazy woman riding it.
And what about the crazy woman herself? What could happen to her was even scarier. At least she’d been wearing his helmet when she drove past the front window. If she ended up eating pavement, she might break every bone in her skinny little body—but just maybe she wouldn’t kill herself.
He kept going, ears tuned for the bike’s distinctive sound. As he turned the circle around a doughnut intersection where five streets came together, he heard the familiar rumble.
From there, he just followed the sound.
He caught up with her as she turned—right again—onto the street that circled the park. She wasn’t going very fast, which was really good news. Plus, the street was essentially deserted. Two pickups went past going the opposite direction, headlights cutting the thickening darkness. But no vehicles blocked the space between the Mercedes and the bike.
Once he found her, it was simple. He got a bit too close, showing her some wheel, and she guided the bike nearer to the curb, wobbling a little as she went, to let him pass.
But he didn’t pass. He just got up parallel with her and drove along at a matching crawl. Any slower and she’d kill that big engine. In fact, how she’d managed not to kill it before then was a mystery to him.
She glanced over, her face all pinched and pissed off inside his too-big helmet. And she saw it was him. The surprise on her face might have been funny, if he hadn’t been more than a little freaked that she would hit the gas and lose control.
But the fates were kind. The sight of him had her easing off the throttle rather than gunning it. The bike sputtered and died. She rolled toward the shoulder. When the bike stopped, she put her feet down. He pulled the Mercedes in behind her.
Leaving the car’s engine running and the headlights on to see by, he was out the door and heading for her as she lowered the stand and climbed off. She undid the helmet strap. Her light brown hair caught static and crackled when she lifted the helmet free of her head.
He reached her. Moving slowly and carefully, she set the helmet on the seat. And then she turned and met his eyes. He had all kinds of things he was going to yell at her, all kinds of names he was going to call her.
But those big blue eyes looked so sad and so lost, he forgot about how he thought she was crazy. He even let go of the proud rage she had stirred in him when she took him for a burglar in his own brother’s house.
It seemed only natural. Just to hold out his arms. She stared at him for a moment, a small space of time that somehow became endless. In the headlight’s hard glare, her expression showed surprise. And then, in an instant, acceptance.
With a heavy sigh, she sagged against him. He gathered her in.
A couple more cars went by as they stood there, embracing in the wash of bright light. She hooked her arms around his waist and buried her face against his chest. A soft, wordless sound escaped her. He felt the warmth of her breath, easing its way through the cloth of his shirt, touching his flesh.
And then she pulled back. He had the strangest urge to keep holding on. But he tamped that urge down. He let her go and she stepped away.
She hung her head. “I didn’t even have the guts to go fast.”
“And that’s a good thing.” He spoke sternly. “It would have been a seriously bad idea to do that.”
“Yeah. I guess.” She pulled something from her back pocket and held it out. It was the bike’s ignition cap.
He took it from her, suddenly remembering that her father was a mechanic. He’d met Patrick Jones at Ash’s wedding. “Your dad runs a garage, right?”
“Uh-huh. He taught me a thing or two about engines. Enough to make me dangerous, I guess.” She was still looking down, subdued now.
He just didn’t
