Page 62 of Hell On Heels
They moved around the kitchen in practiced silence, the kind that only comes from years of friendship. Sway grabbed plates from the cabinet while Lottie pulled the bubbling lasagna from the oven, the smell of tomato and basil thick in the air.
“Want salad?” Lottie asked, her voice steadier now.
“Sure. Something green to make me feel like I’m making good choices,” Sway teased.
That earned her a soft laugh—the first sound that didn’t feel heavy between them. Lottie poured herself a glass of wine, then filled two plates and joined Sway at the small kitchen table.
For a few minutes, they ate in silence. The clink of forks against plates, the low hum of the refrigerator—small, normal sounds that made everything else fade to the edges.
Finally, Sway spoke, “You know, he did the right thing telling you.”
Lottie nodded, staring at her plate. “Yeah, I know. Doesn’t make it hurt less.”
“No. It doesn’t.” Sway’s voice softened. “But it means he respects you. That’s rare around here.”
Lottie’s throat worked as she swallowed hard. “I keep thinking about her. About how she looked at him when I saw her at the clinic. Like he was the answer to something she’d been searching for.”
Sway arched a brow. “Don’t start thinking you’re in competition with that.”
Lottie gave a weak smile. “It’s just hard not to worry where I stand with Razor sometimes.”
“I understand,” Sway said quietly. “You forget, I’ve been the girl waiting at home too. Wondering what’s gonna happen to me and Vicious.”
Lottie looked up at her, meeting her eyes. “You and Vicious are solid, though.”
Sway shrugged. “Yeah, but it took time…after…the kidnaping. She paused, her gaze softening. “You and Razor—you’ll get there. Just don’t shut him out before he gets the chance to prove it.”
Lottie nodded slowly, her eyes glistening again. “I don’t want to lose him.”
“Then don’t.” Sway reached across the table, squeezing her hand. “You’re stronger than you think, babe. And if this turnsout to be nothing, you’ll be even stronger for getting through it together.”
For the first time that night, Lottie let herself believe that might be true.
Chapter Thirty-Five
The following weekend the entire chapter was gearing up for a ride. It was the one they’d talked about taking months back while at dinner. Teller had decided it was a good day for it. Once the ride was over, they were heading back to the clubhouse for a bbq.
Razor decided taking Lottie on the ride would be a much-needed distraction—not just for her, but for himself as well. The open road held a kind of freedom that words couldn’t capture. The wind rushing past, the hum of the engine beneath them, and the endless stretch of asphalt had a way of unburdening a soul. Maybe this was exactly what they both needed: to leave everything behind, if only for a little while, and let the road lead them somewhere new.
He flipped the visor down on Lottie’s helmet, his hand lingering for just a moment longer than necessary, as if silently telling her to trust him. Around them, the rest of the crew was ready, helmets and face coverings in place, their presence commanding. The low growl of engines echoed through the air, blending with the scent of leather, oil, and anticipation.
Sway had taken the time to explain the rules to Lottie earlier. It wasn’t just a ride—it was a run. Everyone had a role, a purpose. Even a guest like her couldn’t just sit back and enjoy the ride.
“You keep your eyes open,” Sway said, her tone firm but not unkind. “Watch the road. Watch the mirrors. Watch everything. You’re Razor’s second set of eyes out there.”
It sounded simple enough to Lottie. Riding on the back of Razor’s bike, her job was to spot anything unusual: vehicles following too close, road hazards, anything that didn’t feel right. Razor would handle the rest.
Lottie gave her a hug before Sway headed for the cage. She’d wanted to come, but neither she nor Vicious were taking any chances with her being on the bike.
As Lottie climbed onto the back of his bike, her hands gripping Razor’s sides, the rumble of the engine beneath her sent a thrill through her chest. The roar of the bikes revving up around them was deafening, but in a way, it was exhilarating. The open road was calling, and Lottie was about to learn that this kind of freedom came with its own kind of responsibility and danger.
Razor hoped taking Lottie on the bike wouldn’t be a mistake. The last time she rode with him, she was trashed. The thought gnawed at him, though he buried it deep beneath his usual calm exterior. The open road could clear your mind, but it could also test you in ways you weren’t prepared for.
The bikes roared to life, engines rumbling like a pack of wild animals ready to charge. Razor sat astride his bike, its weight familiar and steady beneath him. Razor felt Lottie’s arms circle his waist, her hold tentative at first. “Tighter,” he called over hisshoulder, his voice cutting through the din of the engines. She adjusted, her grip firming. Which was better.
As they rolled away from the clubhouse, the pack of bikes moved like a single, fluid unit. The rumble of engines was a steady heartbeat, and the world around them blurred into streaks of motion. Razor kept his eyes on the road, but he couldn’t help being aware of the way Lottie clung to him, the way her body shifted with every turn and lean of the bike. The open road had a way of stripping you bare, revealing things you didn’t even know you carried.
He wanted this ride to help her, to help them both. Shannon had disappeared a few days after the test results came back showing she wasn’t pregnant. He hoped she was gone for good, but something told him, they hadn’t heard the last of her.
