Faith: Biker Romance (The Virtues Book 2) (8 page)

We treated the night like any other Wednesday: heading to Eddie’s to trade the truck for the Harley. Instead of the circus act of me trying to change clothes in the cab, I got out, walking to the garage with Eddie. He pulled the tarp off of the Harley.

“I pulled the battery, thinking we were done for the winter.” He pointed up to a shelf. “Grab that duffel bag.” I did as he said.

As he unscrewed and pulled the seat up to insert the battery, I pulled the old Army duffel bag from the shelf. The patch that said RIVERS was faded, and I ran my fingers over it. His brother had carried it long ago, and it was one of the few things Eddie had left to remember him by.

He smiled at me. “Throw your spares in, grab the gun. There’s a few boxes of rounds behind me in a drawer somewhere. What else do you think we need?”

I looked around. There were a few tools hung on the back of the garage wall, and I pointed to one in particular. “That one is like a Swiss Army knife, isn’t it?”

He nodded, “It’s got pliers, a knife, and a few other things. Throw it in.”

I grabbed it off the wall, my heart pushing me faster and faster. Colorado Springs felt like a tidal wave that was cresting. It would soon crash down around us both.

I ran back out to the truck, grabbing my sweatshirt and jeans. Popping open the glove box, the handgun dropped forward, beckoning me to pick it up.

I did, feeling the weight and power in my hands. I slid the magazine out, checking to see that it was still empty. Sometimes an empty gun was as powerful as a loaded one. I rolled the clothes around my arm and held the gun in the other.

Back in the garage, I put the gun into the duffel bag, wrapped with care in a spare t-shirt.

It was half full when Eddie reattached the seat. When he hit the ignition, he disturbed the bike from its winter hibernation. It howled in protest and preparation.

Eddie let it idle as we went inside to his room. He quickly threw an extra pair of clothes into the duffel bag, and then he fished beneath his bed for something.

He pulled out a small cigar box. Inside, I saw a scattering of baseball cards, small folded notes, and small toys. He dug around and finally pulled out a meager wad of bills. Then he thumbed through them, stopping halfway.

“One hundred and seven dollars. It’s a start.”

We headed out, and he didn’t look back when he shut the light off in his room. We had the house to ourselves, but besides a quick snack, we knew there was a long and cold road ahead of us.

Twenty minutes after pulling in, we had swapped out the Harley for the truck, and we were off.

Frisco, Colorado. “Mainstreet of the Rockies.” So said the sign we passed almost three hours after leaving Colorado Springs. The extra clothes weren’t enough. As we headed deeper into the mountains, the temperature dropped.

A nighttime chill surrounded us, and in Frisco, we had to stop. My fingertips and joints ached from clutching to the bike for over two hours on end. I didn’t know how Eddie was able to drive for so long. A long ride in warm weather was enough to stiffen the bones, but he had been at it for two solid hours in freezing temperatures.

Earlier in the trip, I felt him start to shiver, but by the time we made it to Frisco, the bike’s shuddering engine, Eddie’s trembling, and my own had all blended into one. We had to stop.

Pulling into a gas station, I thought my bones would shatter when I tried to slide off the back of the bike. I felt more pops and cracks than I cared to count, and I thought my back would never straighten out.

Eddie fumbled with the gas pump, and I knew he was feeling the pain of the ride, as well, probably worse than me.

Despite the pain, I headed straight for the store to feel the beautiful warmth within. Inside, I saw a clock on the wall advertising cigarettes. It informed me that it was half past ten. I was officially late.

I stood inside and let the heat thaw my raw skin, thinking about what my parents were up to. Eddie always had me home by ten on the dot, so I’d never experienced their reaction to me getting in after the curfew time. My heart should have sped up. I should have gotten that lump in my throat at the thought of leaving my parents so worried.

It didn’t come.

The original fear that came with shoplifting also never showed its face. The sweatshirt made getting some dinner much easier than the original dress. It was baggy, and the worker was busy on the phone with someone. They were having a fiery discussion about the mortgage. I smiled as I passed the man, but he barely saw me.
Perfect.

I stuffed enough inside my sweatshirt to feed us for the night, and headed back up to the counter. The clerk was still arguing with the phone.

I stood there until he noticed me, but even then, he only half paid attention. “Yes?”

“You don’t have any lipstick, do you?” As he looked around, I beat him to the punch. “Not balm or anything, like red lipstick.”

“Uh, I don’t think so, sorry.”

I smiled, “No prob. Thanks.” I headed for the door, and the clerk began to argue with the unknown on the other end of the phone.

At the door, I spotted Eddie bending over. He was blocked by the closest gas pump, but he looked like he was about to pass out. I shoved the station door open and ran outside.

I only caught the tail end of what Eddie said, “...ever again, you motherfucker.”

As his body came into view, I saw that he wasn’t doubled over, he was leaning over
someone else.
Eddie was looking down at a man writhing on the concrete, his hands over his nose. I could see blood streaking down his cheeks.

The man was mumbling something, but it sounded gargled and muffled. Eddie saw me, stood up and pulled the gas pump out of the Harley’s tank.

I smiled at him and stepped over the hurt stranger. Looking back inside the station, the attendant noticed what had happened and was staring. He hung up the phone and began dialing another number.

“Do I even want to know?” I said, turning back to Eddie as he stepped over one side of the bike.

He shook his head. “Just a simple misunderstanding. He thought I was a pussy. I thought differently.”

The Harley came to life once again, and my brief flirtation with warmth faded along with the lights of the gas station and the town of Frisco.

We rode upwards into the mountains for another hour. What had been painful before had become unbearable. I tried to hold out, and I knew Eddie was doing the same. It was near midnight, and exhaustion was catching up with cold vengeance. I had missed the last few signs along the highway, and I had no idea how far we’d come. I knew we were still in Colorado. It was a long state, especially with all the twists and turns the Rockies forced out of the highway.

Lights up ahead gave me hope. The signs boasted rustic ski lodges and the start of an amazing season of snowfall. As we got closer to Copper Mountain, an ache gripped my heart worse than the freezing air on my face.

There was nowhere for us to stay in the ski resort town. It would be nothing but expensive lodges and suspicious vacationers looking for a peaceful and quiet getaway. I wanted to scream. Eddie must have sensed it, too. I felt his body sag as we rode past the exit. He pulled the throttle back harder, urging the bike to carry us further up the road. I kept California and the sparkling blue ocean in my thoughts, but it did little to ease the chill.

As we rode on, I fought to stay awake. The thrill of our escape wasn’t enough to keep the fatigue at bay, and there was endless nothing after Copper Mountain. We rode alongside semi-trucks heading equally long distances away, but few cars. We had some luck in our favor, as the snow held off until we passed Copper Mountain.

The sign I did catch sight of said it was another twenty miles to Vail. I knew that one. It was another ski town that wouldn’t have cheap lodging. I wanted to cry. I wanted to sleep. I wanted to be
warm
more than anything else.

The semi-truck in front of us flipped on its right turn signal, and Eddie followed suit. I didn't know if there was an exit, but I was so cold that I didn't really care. When the truck pulled off to the right, I saw that we were at a rest stop. The all-night glow was alluring, like a chorus of angels beckoning me forward.

Just as the snowflakes started growing, Eddie pulled into a spot right near the entrance to the service center. There was a fast food joint, but it had long closed for the night. The motorcycle shut down, surely glad for the rest. Eddie hoisted himself off the bike, extending a hand for me.

I thought I had been stiff in Frisco, but it was nothing compared to the numbness encompassing my body. Eddie wrapped an arm around me and led our tired bodies toward the oasis. When the doors slid open, hot air blasted against us. As my skin began to come back to the land of the feeling, Eddie and I slid down into a booth. The Burger King had the gate down and locked, but we weren’t after food.

I curled against him, sharing as much warmth as we could. I wanted to speak, but my voice was raw and coarse. My jaw was sore, and my mind was numb from thought. Even through the pain, I drifted off minutes after sliding into the booth.

“No sleeping here.”

I woke with a start to a security guard wrapping on the table. My vision was blurry, but I saw his nightstick on the table in front of us. My head ached from the sudden surprise. Eddie was awake in an instant, too.

“I said there’s no sleeping here. You’re either out in one of the trucks or you’re gone.”

“All right, man. Give us a sec to get up.” Eddie’s voice was groggy. I had no idea how long we were out.

“I’ll be back through in five minutes. You’d better be gone.” His tone was colder than the winds that had blown against us all night. We’d be gone, all right.

The guard headed off to another part of the service station.

Eddie turned to me. “A motel tonight. I promise.”

I smiled up at him, “Good. You could use a shower.”

His hands were at my side, tickling me, and since being startled awake, I realized just how warm I was. Laying against his broad chest had completely thawed me, and I wondered how long it had been. I glanced out the window to see the sun beginning to shine. What little snow had fallen was gone, having seeped back into the earth.