Page 18 of Rough Ride

“Next time?” he asked as her hands ran down his chest and around his back under his coat.

“Mmhm,” she hummed and kissed him passionately. He parted only out of necessity and smiled at her one more time before pulling his helmet on and backed his bike out of the parking lot.

Eliana waited until his motorcycle was out of sight before she looked down at the keys in her hand. She’d been able to slip them out of Kye’s pocket when they were kissing. Saying a mental prayer, she pressed the button on the fob. The SUV still in the driveway chirped to life.

She had her escape.

Hardly anyone was at the compound this time of day. Nearly eight in the morning, the only people in sight were the round-the-clock security Max insisted on and any of the drunks who hadn’t quite made it to a room. Even the mechanic shop was deserted; the adjoining lot looked like a veritable junkyard of stolen cars waiting to be flipped.

Max wasn’t in his office when Kye checked; instead, he found him in the back lot where they kept the dogs. The older man was looking thinner but wasn’t toting his oxygen tank like he usually was. Kye didn’t know whether this was a good sign or not. His question was answered, however, when he saw the white blunt hanging loosely from his lips. The sickly-sweet scent of Mary Jane wafting in the air.

“Good boy,” Max muttered as he rubbed the neck of the German Shepherd. Taking a neon tennis ball from the animal’s mouth, Max hurled it across the yard. The dog took off and chased it down. “She must be scared shitless,” Max said, sitting in a lawn chair, and waited with his hand out for the dog to return.

“The dog?” Kye asked dryly.

“Wrong bitch,” Max retorted, and Kye’s fists clenched. “She up all night on those?” Max asked, gesturing to the files under Kye’s arm with his two fingers that now cradled the joint.

“Most of it,” Kye answered and handed them over. Max didn’t so much as open them before he set them on the ground next to the cooler he was pulling beer bottles out of. Kye accepted the one he was offered but didn’t drink from it. “I think more than scared, she’s determined. She wants to be done with all of this.”

“Of course she does,” Max said and took the ball a second time from the dog that had returned. “If she was smart, she’d be more scared.” Kye noted a slight grimace when Max chucked the ball toward the far end of the field. It likely would have been imperceptible to anyone else, but Kye liked to think he knew the old man a little better than most.

“She’ll have the rest of the files done by tomorrow. She’s good. I think you’ll be pleased,” Kye said, sitting on the cement curb next to Max.

“We’ll see,” Max said vaguely and let out a long exhale of white smoke. Kye resisted a gag. “You fuck her yet?”

“Excuse me?” Kye asked with narrowed eyes. Max finally looked at him with a blank expression. His cheeks hollowed while he inhaled again.

“Fuck her,” he repeated more slowly, “you fuck her yet?”

“No,” Kye answered and lit a cigarette for both relief and to mask the scent of Max’s drugs.

“That’s a shame,” Max stated, only half believing his prodigy. “Bein’ she was a tight pussy in high school. She’s got that school girl act down pat.”

“I wouldn’t know,” Kye said through gritted teeth, but he did his best to keep his composure. “We’ve never slept together.”

“I find that hard to believe. You mean all these years you never dipped your wick?”

“Not in her oil drum.”

Max let out a bark of a laugh that turned into a wheeze. “Shit, boy,” Max cursed and banged a fist on his chest to try to clear the cough away. “That was damn funny,” Max said, still laughing. He set his blunt down to take a swig of beer. The bottle was sweating with condensation when he rested it in the cupholder.

“How are you feeling these days?” Kye asked as they both watched the dog as it raced around the yard trying to keep the tennis ball from a Doberman that had woken to join the game.

“Like the ass end of a shit hole,” Max answered and spat on the ground. “Docs said the cancer wouldn’t spread fast, but it’s taken my left lung. If I can’t manage to kill myself with liver failure, it’ll be curtains in six months.”

“What about chemo? Radiation?”

“What about it?” Max asked, looking at Kye again. “You think I’m going to let them pump me full of more shit hoping the cancer will kill me, only slightly slower? Nah, boy, this’ll be the end of me. I’ve made my peace with it,” Max said, leaning back in his chair. Kye had to admit, Max didn’t seem the least bit bothered by his deteriorating health as he lounged in the early morning hours with Mary Jane in his left hand, a beer in his right, and the dog’s head now resting in his lap.

“I’m sorry to hear that, Max,” Kye said and finally took a swig of his beer.

“You know, I’m inclined to believe a small part of you really is sad to see me go,” Max said with a hint of jest in his voice.

“I wouldn’t lie about that. There’s also part of me that’s glad your fat ass is about to croak too.”

Max laughed again and lifted his beer in salute. “That’s my boy. Honest to a fault. You know I never had a son, but if I did, I’d like to think he’d turn out a bit like you. Better looking, but honest like you.”

Kye felt his eyes drop. Despite his building hatred for the man, he couldn’t deny the paternal attachment.