Page 59 of Rhett

CHAPTER16

NOVA

Sultriness lingered in the air as Rhett hustled me out of Mama June’s while partiers lingered outside the bar.

I glanced around and didn’t see his cruiser. “Where’s your ride?”

“At the police station. I dropped my vehicle there and rode over here with Quinn.” He peered over at me. “Do you mind walking a bit? It won’t take long to get to the station.”

I shrugged. “Nope. I could use a bit of fresh air to clear my Brew haze.”

Pressing his hand to the small of my back, he directed me to the left. “This way.”

As we walked through Main Square, I noticed that it was jumping with townsfolk milling around despite the fact that it was past ten at night.

“I never imagined that a small town could have the nightlife of Manhattan.”

“But none of the crime,” Rhett replied. “The most excitement you’d find in the Ridge is the daily fight between the otters and penguins about who has the right to skinny-dip in the town’s fountain.”

I laughed. “Sounds amusing.”

A smile twitched across his lips. “For the bystanders, it is, but for Mack and me, who have to take turns breaking up the ruckus, it’s not.”

We walked another block.

“Damn, it feels like August not April,” I complained. “Why is it so hot in Alaska?” I pulled my hair away from my neck. Every muscle in my body was fatigued from the combination of drinking way too much Brew and bull riding.

“The theory is that having such a high concentration of Others living in such a small town affects the weather and temperature.”

I arched a brow. “And do you believe that theory?”

He nodded. “Yup. Of course it’s not a scientific fact, but while in the military, I traveled all over the world, and I noticed areas with a high population of Others had abnormal temperature fluctuations.”

He pointed across the street. “My cruiser and the station are over there.”

We stepped into the crosswalk, making it halfway across the street, when I heard squealing tires.

As I peered to my left, my eyes widened at the sight of the motorcycle rider weaving dangerously. Midmotion, he fell off, dropping his motorcycle. It landed sideways, skidding down the middle of the street and heading toward us.

“Nova. Move!” Rhett barked.

I froze, not sure which direction to run—left or right—to escape getting hit by the runaway bike. Bracing for the worst, I felt my heartbeat race so fast it caused pains in my chest.

Rhett shoved me behind him so quickly the momentum of the movement made me topple to the street and onto my side.

I flinched at the sound of hissing and the screeching of metal scraping the street while the motorcycle continued its riderless joyride.

Moving gingerly onto my elbow, I watched in horror as Rhett crouched like a warrior, putting himself protectively between me and the out-of-control bike.

What the hell?He was going to get mowed down by the motorcycle.

No. I can’t lose him.

And just the thought of him dying, of not being in my world, made me dizzy and weak.

I was already on my feet, though I couldn’t remember standing. I watched Rhett’s hands shoot out so fast, it was a blur. The sound of groaning metal thudded in my ears.

Somehow, Rhett stopped the trajectory of the motorcycle.