Say It's Forever （Redemption Hills #2）
A.L. Jackson
ONE
JUD
It was just before ten when I slowed my bike and made a right onto Dawson.
Darkness had long descended on the small, mountain city, but a storm had rolled in, and the sky pounded its fury on Redemption Hills, California.
“Shit,” I grumbled under my breath when I saw the red blinking lights up ahead. The last thing I wanted was to play savior right then. I was soaked through, and I was itching to get back so I could peel the drenched clothes from my body, hit a hot shower, and maybe kick back a beer or two considering I’d picked a really fuckin’ bad night for a joyride.
But the storm had hit from out of nowhere, and I’d been halfway back to my place before I’d realized I was about to get slammed.
I slowed my Harley, barely moving as I passed the car, hoping it had been abandoned for better weather.
No such luck. The hood was open and…shit…there was a woman leaned over the front peering down at the engine.
I groaned out a sigh and eased to a stop about fifty feet in front of the car.
I could keep on going, but that would be a dick move. On this side of town, it was industrial, most every shop closed and locked up tight, and I knew full well the only ones out prowling at this time of night were hunting for trouble. Out looking for targets to unleash their sickness and depravity.
I figured the pile of sins I was paying for was high enough not to add leaving some chick stranded in the rain to the top.
Besides, it wasn’t like metal and oil weren’t in my blood. It was what I did.
Kicking the stand, I killed the engine and swung off the bike. I dug into the saddle bag, pulled out a flashlight, and clicked it on. The beam glittered through the flood pouring from the sky. My boots were heavy, sloshing through the river that ran the curb as I strode that way.
The woman whirled around, and I was squinting to see her where she had her back pressed to the front of the car, clutching her damned keys between her fingers with the tips facing out.
Could feel the energy.
Her fear rushing the air.
Shit.
I didn’t want to freak her out, but what the hell was I supposed to do? Leave her there? Fuck no. I might have been a monster, but my mother had at least taught me better than that.
She slowly came into focus the closer I got.
Well, fuck me.
Would peg her at about twenty-four or twenty-five.
The girl as drenched as me. Long, black hair was matted to her face. She wore a thin t-shirt, jeans, and sky-high heels, the fabric sticking to every inch of her lush body.
The scattering rays of light caught on her eyes.
Thunderbolt eyes.
Blue strikes of lightning that raged.
Turbulent.
Tumultuous.
Her face was a clash of soft and hard, her brow and chin and jaw sharp, but her cheeks and mouth were full and plump.
So damned pretty I almost stumbled in my tracks.
With my approach, terror ridged her expression, but she clenched those keys tighter. It was clear if I became a threat, she wouldn’t go down without a fight.
A wild animal backed into a corner.
Feral.
Fierce.
“Hey there, darlin’。 You look like you’re having some trouble.” Basically had to shout to be heard over the driving rain that pounded against the pavement.
Her chin lifted, and I could see her attention darting all around while she still focused on me, the girl calculating her escape route, her flight if she needed it.
I stepped closer.
Carefully.
A roll of energy trembled the ground.
“I’m just fine.” Her voice was this deep, sultry, wicked thing.
“You sure about that?”
Ferocity flared in her features, and shit, that was the wrong thing to say.
I lifted my hands out to the sides, light blinking off to the side. “I’m not here to mess with you. I saw you were in trouble, and it looked to me like you could use some help. Not like I want to be standing out here in the rain, either.”
A little of the edge drained from her shoulders, but she watched me, refusing to let her guard down, not that I could blame her.
There were some twisted motherfuckers in this world. Figured I’d known half of them by name.
“Not out here to hurt you,” I told her, words gruff.
She scoffed out a dismissive sound, shooting me daggers as she did. “That’s what they all say, isn’t it?”
A slight chuckle rumbled out.
Little wildcat.
Hoping to put her at ease, I angled my head toward the engine. “Do you have any idea what the problem might be?”
She huffed out her frustration and gestured wildly at it, all that soaked hair sticking to her gorgeous face.
It was really damned distracting, if I was being honest.
“It just died. I was barely able to coast to the side of the road.”
Warily, I peeked at her as I moved closer because I was pretty sure she wouldn’t hesitate to chop off my dick if I made the wrong move. I leaned over the engine, jiggling a few hoses and wires to see if it was something simple that I could fix right there.
“Hopefully it’s just the alternator or battery,” I mumbled as I poked around.
“And how much is that?” An edge of hysteria slipped into her voice, like she was going to lose it if one more thing went wrong.
My chest squeezed tight as I peered her way through the rain.
Could see it written all over her, this desperation that lined her being. Padded her in steel and severity.
“Not sure. If it’s the battery or alternator, it won’t be a biggie. If your engine seized—that could get dicey. Will have to get it into the shop and take a look before we can know for sure.”
“Shop?”
Our voices were raised over the drone of crashing rain.
“Have one, right up here around the corner. Iron Ride.”
So okay. Iron Ride was a custom bike shop. A spot for a restoration was highly coveted and didn’t come cheap. Our specialty was motorcycles, but every now and again, we brought in a collectible car that we rebuilt from the bones. Didn’t need to tell her my mechanics were going to have a field day when they found out I’d hauled in a ’99 family sedan.
Her eyes narrowed in contemplation before she suddenly stepped back and shook her head. She looked like she was the one commanding the raging storm.
This dark chaos that thrashed in the night.
“What are you doing out here by yourself, anyway?” I asked, swiping the deluge pummeling my face.
“You know what? It’s fine. I’m fine. Just…I’ll figure something out. I’ll call for a ride. You can go.”
She flung her hand at my bike sitting in the distance, totally ignoring my question.
Through the rain, I looked at her, studied her face that shimmered in the glow of hazy light. Her teeth were clenched, and my gaze locked on the long, jagged scar that ran the side of her left jaw that the grinding somehow accentuated.
I had the urge to reach out and touch it. Run my fingertips along the flesh.
That was some serious fuckery. This reaction she evoked. Like I suddenly couldn’t move.
As stranded as she was.
My hand curled into a fist to stop myself from doing something stupid.
Like she felt the attention there, her teeth ground harder, but instead of dipping her chin and hiding it, she lifted it in some kind of challenge.