Page 24 of Clash

“Trust me, Gina. Please.”

I fell into step behind him, my heart stammering inside my chest as I tried to keep up with him, fear racing through the marrow in my bones. The thought of my husband finding me, let alone finding me because our son may have broken his arm, was a new fear I didn’t know I would be suffering from.

Clash led us over to a vehicle, helping us both inside.

“Is this your car?”

He nodded. “It’s my cage. I only drive it during the winter though when the conditions are too bad for my bike, or if I’m transporting more than one person.”

“It’s nice,” I murmured, settling against the plush fabric of his bucket seats.

“It’s okay. But I prefer the peace of an open road over a cage any day. Nothing beats riding a motorcycle—nothing.”

Alex was still whimpering from the backseat, silent tears spilling from his eyes. He was babying his arm and doing his best not to bleed all over Clash’s car.

“Mr. Clash, do you think I can ride your motorcycle some time?” he asked him before looking to me for approval. “Is that okay, Mommy?”

I wasn’t so sure. I always heard that motorcycles were death traps. “I don’t know, Alex. We’ll see.”

He frowned. “That means no.”

“It means we’ll see, Alex.”

Clash interjected, “If your mommy says it’s okay, Alex, I’ll take you for a ride sometime. How are you feeling now, buddy?”

“My arm still hurts,” he admitted. “And I’m bleeding; do you have any napkins?”

Clash reached into his center console, producing a few napkins before handing them to him. “Here you go, buddy.”

“Thank you, Mr. Clash.” Alex started wiping at his cheek, grimacing when he saw all the blood. “I’m a bloody mess.”

Both Clash and I giggled. He shot me a look, that handsome face of his, chiseled in all the right places, was stubbled with a gorgeous five o’clock shadow, one I wanted to feel under my fingertips.

But I couldn’t shake a nagging thought from my head. One that was too important to overlook and needed answers. “Alex, cover your ears please.”

“Mommy, how do I cover my ears when my arm hurts?”

“Put one ear against the seat, use your good hand to plug the other, and then do what Mommy usually tells you to do, okay?”

He nodded, covering his ears the best he could, and then immediately started singing theABCSong. It’s a trick I taught him when I didn’t want him to listen to what I was saying. As long as he was reciting his ABC’s, he couldn’t hear me.

“Clash, why do you have a gun?” I whispered, dropping my voice low, just in case.

He frowned. “For protection. Plus, it’s Texas. Most people here carry guns.”

“Have you ever used it before?” I knew he had, but I wanted to hear it from him.

“Once or twice.”

“Have you ever killed anyone with it?”

He shrugged. “It’s probably best if you don’t know that answer.”

I nodded, knowing I overstepped. “You’re probably right.”

“That’s a part of me I hope you never see, Gina. My life is a rollercoaster on the best of days. Some days are better thanothers, and others are too rocky to manage. But I do what I have to do to protect the people I care about.”

A long silence followed, making me a bit uneasy, and just as we pulled around to the back of the hospital, near a side entrance, he said. “That includes you and Alex.”