Riding with the Beast (an MC Fairy Tale)

12 - Sonja

Sonja

We said nothing on the way over to the parking lot. He picked a few long, rusty tools up from the rubble. The only one I recognized was a screwdriver. The Beast lifted me up without warning when we reached the fence, and I accepted his help with the same silence. The chain links dug into my palm as I grabbed onto the top, and then dug into my inner thigh as I threw my leg over. I dropped onto the ground on the other side and stumbled. My palm skid across the ground as I broke my fall.

The Beast came down right after me. I couldn’t help but envy his grace.

He took my hand as I stood, turning it over to inspect my palm. “Are you alright?”

Yes. Just embarrassed, again. That seems to be the running theme between us. “I’m fine. No blood, see?”

He nodded and let go. “So, you left my bag in the hotel room?”

“Yes. Sorry, I wasn’t thinking.”

“It’s alright. Was my favorite shirt, though.”

Oh God. This was a disaster. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. It’s just a shirt,” he said before walking across the parking lot.

I didn’t follow. It was so hot that it felt like my sweat was crawling up my spine. I’d bled on one of Alexander’s shirts once. I don’t know if it had been his favorite or not, but he’d wrapped it around my neck after, choking me as he hurt my body.

I’m sorry, I’d rasped through snot and tears as my vision blurred.

It doesn’t matter if it was an accident or not. All that matters is what you did. Actions have consequences, Bella. The criminal does not get to decide his own sentence.

The image of the shiny black car rolling into the hotel parking lot flashed in my mind. Suddenly cold despite the sun beating down on my shoulders, I hugged my chest. He was too close.

“You coming?” The Beast yelled over his shoulder.

“Yeah.” I trotted until I reached him, then followed his shadow.

No one was in the robin’s egg blue office to the side of the lot. There was a handwritten note taped to the window in the door saying the manager would be back in an hour.

“That note was here when I got here,” I told The Beast.

“Yeah. Don’t think we’ll have to worry about it.” He continued walking, only stopping once he reached the motorcycles. After studying them for a few moments, he stopped in front of the one with a bulky frame and large grooves in the wheels.

I glanced back at the office. “Are you gonna steal it?”

“Yeah. Well, I’m leaving my car, so I guess it’s a trade. Sort of.”

Something about the way he said that sounded off. “He’s not getting a good deal, is he?” I asked.

“Not really. Would leave a couple hundred under the dash, but…we’re probably gonna need the rest. Sorry Arty.”

As he got to work, I crossed my arms and stared at the road. The top of it wavered from the heat. “What if they try to pin the murder on you?”

He didn’t stop hotwiring the motorcycle. “Wouldn’t be the first time, but like I said, I don’t think they’re gonna leave that asshole’s corpse as it is.”

That answer probably shouldn’t have surprised me, but it did. I wondered who’d done it, and what they’d said he’d did. “Well, what will you do if they don’t take care of it?”

He grinned, looking down. “You worried about me, Sonja?”

“I’m not a monster.”

“I’d never think you were.”

The words soothed me though I knew I shouldn’t have let them. He barely knew me; he didn’t know who I was, or what I’d done. “Even though you just saw me shoot somebody?”

I’d meant that question to be a joke, I think. I’d at least intended it to lighten the mood. But instead my voice wavered, and I suddenly felt myself very close to the brink of tears again.

The grin on his face turned grim. “No, not a monster. Just thorough.” He swung a leg around the seat of the motorcycle, keeping to himself so I’d have a moment to compose myself.

The engine revved to life. It took a lot of control to not shrink back. “Looks like you’re my lucky charm, Sonja. She’s got a full tank. We can leave.”

Did he expect me to climb on after him?

He tilted his head to the side, oblivious to my fear. “Come on.”

What a stupid question. Of course he wanted me to climb on after him. I put a hand on his shoulder, trying not to think about the fact there weren’t any helmets.

“This…” is my first time on a motorcycle, I almost said.

“What?”

I sat. “Nothing.” What would it matter if I said anything? I wrapped my arms around his waist, linking my fingers together and hugging him tightly.

“Hold on,” he yelled. Before I could answer, we were off. This isn’t too bad, I thought as he slowly maneuvered out of the lot.

And then we hit the highway.

The engine roared. I dug my nails into his stomach, scratching the scars I could feel even through his shirt. As if in retaliation, the bike shot forward.

I screamed. He might have said something, or he might not have. It was impossible to hear anything over the angry engine and screeching wind. My heart beat so hard it felt like it had leapt out of my body into his. Whenever I opened my mouth air rushed in, and I chocked before I could inhale. The machine vibrated unsympathetically beneath me, making my muscles sore as I held onto the only thing in my world I had: Him.

It wasn’t until the sun dipped far below the horizon that my fears began to recede. As they did, I wondered why he still called me Sonja when he knew it wasn’t my name.