That kiss that sealed the deal was filled with love, red hot passion, joy…plus the promise of a future I never thought I’d have. And when I set her down, she shouted, “Miracles do happen!” which made everybody laugh.
Great way to start a party.
Even better way to start a life.
CHAPTER 42
SOFIA SOL
T he rumble of my Triumph feels different as I ride with Luke, Celia, Sean and Atlas to El Paso, Texas, where we heard about a crisis that’s on the verge of turning worse.
I tighten my fists on the bars, but slow down despite my will power. My husband glances over as I break formation. Weird for me to since nobody’s on the road but us at this hour, a little after four o’clock in the morning on a Tuesday.
“Something wrong with your bike?” he calls over the roar.
“Dunno!” I wince as things go funky. “Stop a second.”
He nods, gives the signal. The five of us pull onto the shoulder. Everyone but Luke leaves their machines running as he throws his leg over, dismounts, and strolls to me, bending to inspect my tires, the hoses, anything that might on first inspection look ‘off’ to him.
“It’s not the bike.” I tell him, finally remembering to shift into neutral. “I feel weird. Like the engine is making me dizzy or something.”
He pulls his glove off and places his cool palm on my hand. “You hot, Soph?”
“Am I?”
“Feel normal. But what do I know?”
Celia shuts her engine down, hurries over. “Sofia, you sick?”
“Um…maybe ate something bad?” As she touches my forehead, too, I roll my eyes. “I don’t have a fever, he just checked.”
“I want to see if you’re clammy.” She puts her fingers on my neck, behind my hair, braided under my helmet. It’s a cold night, late into fall, so she touches her own skin to see if we’re different, if it’s just the wind that’s done this to my temperature. “Feels the same as me. Like you need a scarf, but that’s it.”
Smiling, “I don’t need a scarf,” I shrug it off and tell them all, “I’m all good. Let’s go.”
“Stay close,” Luke says.
“I will.”
We’re on the road in no time, same formation but now I’m their person of interest, and it’s no fun.
It’s hard to hold on.
Like I could use a nap.
And some Tums.
My husband keeps checking on me, calls over the engines, “We’re pulling off at the next stop where there’s lodging, fuck this!”
Usually I’d argue, but not tonight. “Okay,” I nod, frowning.
“Pull over! You’ll get on the back of my bike. We’ll get yours later!”
“Okay.”
That answer freaks him out. He raises his arm and signals for us to pull off the road right now. Atlas and Sean watch, faces grim as Ceels grabs my keys, stashes them in her Ciphers jacket. Luke piles my saddlebags onto his, mounts his Harley and looks over his shoulder as I climb on behind him, wrap my arms around his ribs and breathe deeply in and out. He starts to go, but I squeeze him.
“Stop! Hold on!”
“What’s up?”
I climb off, lean over, vomit everywhere. “Okay, I’m good,” I mutter as he looks at me, horrified. I motion to Celia to stay on her damn bike, shoot her a look that makes her lips tighten, knuckles white as she waits.
“We’re getting you to a hospital,” Luke growls.
“No, just some bad fish or something.”
“It’s not a debate. I’m put on this planet to watch out for you and that’s what I’m gonna do.” He tears onto the freeway with them right behind.
Three miles down the road we come up on a hotel, some convenience stores, nothing fancy. But up ahead is a long stretch of dead road we know too well. No hospitals for miles.
“Luke, I just need some sleep. And to get off this bike!”
He growls at me, but tilts us, turning onto the exit with the others following into the hotel parking lot. He shuts off the engine, says, “I’ll get a doctor, bring them here to you.”
“You’re being over-protective.”
“This is love. Deal with it,” he mutters, lifting me up and carrying me in.
There’s no one behind the desk. He hits the bell with his elbow as I hold onto him, my helmet feeling like it weighs a hundred pounds all of a sudden.
“Anyone here?!”
A sleazy guy walks out of the back room, probably watching porn, eyes us. “Need a room?”
Luke bites the guy’s head off. “Yes!”
“Okay, okay, don’t have to get so desperate. We’ve got plenty of ‘em. She’ll wait five minutes.”
If I was in a better state I’d show this jerk how patient I am with low-class dirtbags like him. But since my husband’s in control, I just give the guy the finger as Luke snarls, “Get me a key and shut the fuck up.”
Sean walks in. “Need a card?”
“In my wallet.”
He reaches into Luke’s back pocket, digs out the Ciphers credit card, under the name of someone who died in 1939, hands it over to the toe-jam-faced clerk.
The three of us head to Room 11.
“Where’s Celia? Atlas?” I ask.
Sean slows down. “Said she wanted to get you some water and stuff from the market. He went with her.”
“Go tell ‘em where we are.”
“Right.” Sean flips around and takes quick strides back.
Inside a cheap room like you find in the middle of nowhere, Luke lays me down as I argue, “You’re making a big deal out of nothing. See?” I sit up, dust off my legs. “All better.”
He kneels down, pulls my eyelids back. Laughing I swat him away, but hold onto his hand for a second to reassure him, “You don’t have to worry. I’m not dying.”
“Soph,” he rasps, fingers freed and sliding down my legs to grip my calves. “Don’t even say that
