by Charlene Teglia
“Your name’s Lee, right?”
I nodded, not trusting myself to open my mouth just now. I got up and untangled myself from my wrecked ten speed. The frame was bent. Now I’d have to walk in the gathering dark, a nice, slow-moving target for winged things. Unbelievable bad luck that I’d darted into his path and had to swerve into a tree to keep from going head-on with a Harley Sportster.
I nodded again, wishing he’d just go. There was no way I could explain any of this. Especially not to Nick Austin.
He didn’t grant my wish. Instead, he made a gesture at the seat behind him. “Want a ride?” When I didn’t answer, he added, “If you like to go like a bat out of hell, it helps to have a motor.”
“Mind giving me a demonstration?” I hopped on and tried to act nonchalant, as if riding behind the class bad boy was no big deal. I could die of embarrassment later. Right now, I just didn’t want to die.
He gave a short laugh. “You’ll get scared before I run out of torque.”
I was already scared, but not of speed. “Try me.”
“Are you in trouble, Lee?”
I looked over my shoulder and saw two pairs of wings outlined against the moon. I didn’t think the gargoyles had spotted us. Yet. “Yeah. I’m dead if I don’t get home on time,” I said with utter truthfulness.