HeroRising Read Free Page A

bit of daylight and flashed at her with an enticing wink.
    What game was he playing? This gesture of goodwill could totally
be a trick, but the allure of having a weapon was greater than the voice of
reason. She took half a step, then another while he remained standing as still
as stone. Her gaze never left his face, watching for the slightest movement
that may announce when he’d strike. By the time the hilt was in her grasp, a
tiny smile softened his lips and satisfaction glowed in his eyes.
    “Good,” he said. “Place your thumb on top of the third oval
stone on the side and press.”
    “Holy shit!” she shouted with a jump as the four-inch-long
blade slid out with a little hiss.
    “Press it again to retract the blade.”
    Snick. The deadly weapon was contained before she
blinked. How many times in her life had she held a knife in her hand and not
thought anything of the potential damage she could inflict with the blade? But
kitchen knives were for utilitarian purposes, not homicidal ones. The little
switchblade in her grip felt a million times more deadly than a butcher knife
ever did.
    “Ride with me,” he said, pulling her attention away from the
weapon. “Hold on to my hips with your thighs and keep the knife in your hand.
Place the end right here.” He pointed to a spot on his side between his ribs.
“If at any time you feel threatened by me, press the trigger. You’ll puncture
my lungs and they will fill with blood, drowning me. You will then have a
chance to continue on with my bike.”
    “Are you serious?” she exclaimed, completely in shock. Not
that he knew how to take a life, of that she had no doubt, but that he’d calmly
explain how to end his.
    “Of course,” he replied with nary a wink that he was
anything but sincere.
    Right. Okay. What were her options? Continue walking down
the road and risk being hit by a car, or facing an encounter with another
scumbag or accept a ride with talk, dark and scary who gave her a weapon?
    Damn. None of those choices were optimal.
    “My name is Bale. What is yours?”
    “Ari.” She shifted her weight from foot to foot, still
hesitant to commit to one way or another.
    “Ari.” His tongue flicked each syllable in a way that made
her breath catch. “There is a petrol station up ahead with a restaurant, not
too far by cycle. At least let me take you that far. I promise, you will arrive
safely.”
    Her gaze bounced from the knife in her hand to the
motorcycle then to his dark eyes. Over and over she weighed the consequences of
each option. The roar of a sixteen wheeler barreling down the street broke the
circuit and she stepped back, but Bale didn’t move. He stared at her even as
the truck clamored past, missing him by mere inches and not once did he flinch.
As if she needed further proof he was a major badass.
    Maybe she was crazy, but she’d rather take her chances
riding behind him on his bike with a knife in her hand than with a car or
another big rig on the road.
    “Fine,” she said. “But just to the restaurant.”
    The stiffness in his posture eased and though his mouth
never moved, she swore his eyes smiled at her with pleasure over her answer.
    “Have you ever ridden before?”
    She shook her head.
    “Hang on to me and lean when I do. Flow with me, not
against, and we will remain upright.”
    “Great.” That sounded safe.
    He gestured for her to follow, which she did while
repeatedly calling herself an idiot. Try as she might not to, her gaze zeroed
in on his denim-covered backside while she mentally kicked her own ass. In her
deepest of hearts she knew the biggest reason for agreeing was for the chance
to be pressed along his big body. She was worse than those women in those
horrible slasher flicks who were killed for being stupid.
    “May I secure your bag? You’ll find it easier to hold on.”
    The formal cadence in his speech in comparison to his
restless biker appearance charmed her, and before she thought better of it she
handed