“Yeah.”
Riley turned back to his bike and busied himself as the thief headed for the building and disappeared inside. He took photos of the R1 from each side, this time with his cell phone. Then he tried sending them to Ryan and Tristan with a note about his location, but the message got stuck in his outbox. He looked at the icon for his connection and saw he had none. The message would likely get sent the next time that improved.
Deciding to hit the bathroom while he could, Riley kept an eye out for the thief, who’d gone into a stall. Once back at his Night Rod, he wondered how to play this so that he and the rider left at the same time without it being obvious that he was waiting. He realized that wherever the guy went, following discreetly would be harder now that he’d called attention to himself. Riley cursed under his breath. He’d screwed this up. He wasn’t pulling a gun out or punching the guy with all these kids around. If only a cop would pull in right now.
He eyed Tristan’s bike, thinking to disable it. He’d need a key to get to the spark plugs and pull a wire. A wheel padlock would keep it from being ridden, but he didn’t have his with him. Maybe he could slash a tire with his hunting knife. Someone would see him do it, but it would work out okay when the cops arrived. As he reached into his pack, his jacket shifted, offering an inadvertent peek at his Nighthawk to a little girl standing nearby with her parents.
“Daddy, that man has a gun!”
Riley looked up in surprise, one hand on his knife, still in the pack out of sight. He left it there and closed the jacket a little, but it was too late. The girl’s father, a bespectacled man in his mid-forties, looked at Riley with thinly-veiled suspicion.
“Got a permit for that thing?” the man asked, gently pulling his daughter away, behind their white SUV, where a woman picked her up. A few others had overheard and were ushering their kids away, too.
Riley frowned, not caring for someone butting into his business. “Who’s asking?”
“Concerned citizen. I bet the police would find it interesting.”
Riley was about to say something mean when he realized this could be useful. Softening his expression, he suggested, “Go ahead and call them. Make it quick. I ain’t got all day.” Being part owner of each Kendall property had qualified him to wear and carry a concealed firearm, which, as a Marine, he felt comfortable doing.
The man looked at him flatly, as if trying to decide. “Maybe I will.”
Well don’t flake out on me now, man
, Riley thought. “Give them a description of these bikes, license numbers, and my name, Riley Kendall. Tell them I’m headed south on Skyline Drive. I’m following a bike thief.”
The man cocked an eyebrow. “Are you serious?”
“Yeah. And here he comes, so stay clear, please, and tell them what I said. And keep quiet or you’ll blow my cover. Now smile like we’re having a pleasant conversation and then walk away.”
Riley flicked a glance at the approaching thief, wondering how to salvage this. Disabling the bike was out. He pretended to check his tire pressure while the other guy mounted the R1 and began to leave. A glance at the girl’s father revealed him speaking on a smartphone. Then Riley started the Night Rod and left in slow pursuit, a few cars back.
They wound their way south for an uneventful forty-five minutes. The thief bypassed a major exit to Luray and appeared headed to the end of Skyline Drive at Rockfish Gap. Once there, the thief might go straight onto the Blue Ridge Parkway, which acted like a continuation of Skyline Drive and led into North Carolina, but if not, he’d exit. When Riley did, too, that would almost certainly give away his pursuit, which might become high speed.
Before he figured out a plan, a Virginia State Trooper came up behind him. Riley smiled. That concerned citizen had done as asked. He felt good, having done his little brother a solid favor, but just as he started feeling smug, everything went wrong.
As they neared the first intersection he’d seen in a while, the light turned yellow. The thief went through, but Riley wouldn’t make it. Uncharacteristic indecision struck him. The cop gave no sign of pursuing the thief. The guy would get away if Riley didn’t follow. He revved the engine and charged toward the light, which went red a full second before he passed through. The cop came after, lights flashing and siren roaring to life.
“Shit!” Riley punched the bike tank before him.
He briefly wondered what to do, but the cop was right on his ass, dangerously close, and clearly thought Riley was the issue here. Swearing, Riley pulled over and turned off the bike, fuming with impatience as the cop stopped and took his time getting out. Riley knew better than to get off until the officer was beside him. That’s how people got shot. Up ahead, the thief was turning right onto I-64 West and would soon disappear.
On hearing the car door close, Riley yelled over his shoulder. “Can you come up here quickly please?”
The officer’s footsteps didn’t sound like they were coming any faster. “Being in a big hurry is what just got you pulled over, sir.”
“Can I get off?”
“Just hold on, sir.” The officer stopped beside him.
“Look, my name is Riley Kendall. I’ve been following a bike thief who just went through this light ahead of me. The state police should know all about this by now.”
The officer’s face registered surprise. Then he looked at the Night Rod and glanced after the thief. The cop swore under his breath.
“Stay there,” he commanded, backing up to check out Riley’s license plate. Then he pressed the radio on his shoulder and said, “This is Officer Conway. The stolen Yamaha R1 from Maryland has just been spotted traveling westbound on I-64 toward Staunton from Rockfish Gap. Requesting backup. I will likely lose the rider.”
Riley sighed heavily as the officer communicated with his dispatcher. From where they were, he could see the R1 threading through traffic before a curve in the highway took the thief out of sight. It was gone.
Chapter 15 – Calm Before the Storm
“This place is so beautiful,” said Victoria, gazing at the Queen Anne-style Somerset Inn. She’d been here before but the place took on a new resonance now, with her love beside her. On the last tour, she’d felt a little lonely, thinking of him despite trying not to. This wasn’t her only fantasy about him that had lately come true.
“Not as beautiful as you,” replied Tristan, smirking about the cheesy line, even though he meant it. She shot him an amused look and hooked arms as they walked towards the bed-and-breakfast from the motorcycle. He left his and Victoria’s overnight bag in the bike for now.
The group of riders from CMS had just arrived at their destination near Rockfish Gap, the Somerset Inn being a few miles from where Skyline Drive ended at I-64. Green treetops rolled with the slopes surrounding the bed-and-breakfast, a converted home built in the 1800s. It still bore old-world charm with the covered front porch, arched dormer windows on the roof, and intricate window frames resembling cobwebs in the corners. White trim set off the yellow paint that glowed golden in the rays of the afternoon sun.
The driveway ran past one side to the rear parking lot, beside which stood a back yard lined with a tall hedge and white picket fence. A number of sculptures, fountains, and a gazebo awaited couples looking for some outdoor elegance. Hanging lights overhead would soon glow softly.
“We should spend time out here tonight,” Victoria suggested as they mounted the inn’s steps.
Tristan agreed and led her inside, where they registered like the other riders. The inn’s owners soon sat everyone down at elegant tables for two; the sight of Larry and Rick sharing a table making Tristan chuckle. Scented candles floated in small glasses on each tabletop. A single rose in a stem glass vase perfumed the air. Sparkling wine fizzled. Sterling silver flatware lay beside fine china, atop which an assortment of pastries and fruit tempted the tongue. Tristan and Victoria took turns feeding each other and talking of little things like they’d been doing for days, catching up on favorite TV shows and new bands they listened to. Not much surprised either about their choices, as they knew each other pretty well, even after all these years.
As Tristan and Victoria followed appetizers with dinner, another couple, who hadn’t been on the trip, sat close together over a similar table, their heads together, eyes adoring each other. The woman kept playing with her diamond engagement ring and wedding band. The couple seemed almost like high school sweethearts except that they were in their twenties, and Tristan felt certain they were newlyweds. Their happiness made him feel competitive. That Victoria kept glancing at them wasn’t lost upon him. Now was a good time to make her feel special once again. With their meal complete, he took her hand and led her up to their room, noticing her affectionate gaze. She apparently had similar ideas.
On reaching the suite, which had a four-post bed and Jacuzzi tub, she led him toward the bed and then put his hands on the zipper of her riding suit. With a smile, he kissed her and began pulling it down, sensuously disrobing her. This time she’d worn black spandex shorts and a tight, red exercise bra underneath. Tristan sported his usual jeans and t-shirt, the riding jacket hanging downstairs with their helmets. He remembered they needed the overnight bag from the bike, but first they could fool around.
As Tristan tugged off her suit, she decided to ask a question on her mind and, though this wasn’t the best time. She just wanted to get something else out in the open.
“So I have to ask,” she began, pulling off his shirt, “how do you feel about having almost been a father?”
He hesitated while she kissed his neck. “Kind of a tough question. Are you asking if I want to have kids one day?”
“I guess so, yes.”
“Of course. I came from a big family so it’s normal to me.”
She undid his belt buckle and started on the pants. “Would you be disappointed if you never had one?”
“Yeah, absolutely.” He gave her a look. “Why? Did the miscarriage make you unable to?”
“No, no. Nothing like that. Although if you have one miscarriage, another one is a little more likely.”
“I didn’t know that. What about you? Do you want kids?”
She pulled his pants down and off. “Yeah, at least one, if for no other reason than because it’s one of those life experiences to have.”
“I hadn’t thought of it that way. Speaking of life experiences…” He leered at her and pulled her clothes off so they stood bare. Then he pulled her close.
“One last thing I have to say,” she began, “is that I really wouldn’t want you to still be racing if we had a child.”
He gave her a long look. “Because if something happens to me, then what happened to you happens to our kid?”
“Exactly. I know we’re talking about you retiring now, but if you didn’t, would you retire if I got pregnant?”
He smirked. “Are you trying to tell me something?”
She laughed, nipples bouncing against his chest. “No, I’m not pregnant.”
“Well, I think that’s something I could do for you. For us. For the baby. I wouldn’t want that to happen either, and there comes a point where you sacrifice for a greater cause.”
She ran her fingers through his hair and whispered into his ear, “Do you want to practice making babies?”
Their lips gently crushed each other, soft moans filling the room. Tristan lowered her to the bed, his probing fingers causing trails of fire on her belly. She pressed her breasts into his chest, hard nipples aching. His half-closed eyes saw the nape of her neck and he had to taste her there. He nipped at her throat and then buried his face in her lush, velvety mounds. She slid one hand into his hair, holding his face down while he nuzzled. With her pert nipples straining for attention, he surrounded one nipple with his warm, wet lips, his tongue flicking the tip. A man could die happy there.
She moaned. “Riding that bike all day got me all horny. I want to ride you now.”
“I love how hot you are.” Tristan fondly remembered the days of her being this hot all the time and swore he’d keep her that way for eternity. No winner’s circle in racing compared to the thrill of Victoria.
“You made me that way.”
Suddenly Victoria wrapped her legs around his waist and then forced him onto his back while she straddled him, gripping his cock behind her in one eager hand. She lifted up, tits jiggling, and rubbed the soaking folds of her hot pussy against his throbbing dick. She lowered herself in one smooth motion, taking the full length of him. Her pussy pulsed with pleasure, her heart fluttering. Hours of being horny had made her almost permanently ready for his manhood’s arrival. Moving side to side, Victoria ground her clit into his pubic bone, sending jolts of pleasure down her legs and up her belly to her nipples.
“Oh, God, I love fucking you,” Victoria moaned.
“Show me,” he huskily replied.
She began thrusting up and down, crashing their pubic bones together, making the bed’s four wooden feet slide back and forth on the hardwood floor. Bolts of pleasure coursed through his crotch, her juices dripping down his balls, in between his legs, and over his perineum, tickling him. Tristan pulled her down on top of him as one hand snaked around her back, capturing her. The other hand went into her hair as he tasted her lips. She moaned into his mouth as he began thrusting up and down like a jackhammer, balls flying with the jackrabbit motion, cock plunging in and half-out.
He would conquer her, he knew. There’d be no escape. Not from this. From the way she slumped into him, held fast by his iron grip, he knew time would make her surrender.
He slowed, knowing the sensitivity would rise with some gentleness. His lips parted, his tongue darting into her mouth, one hand reaching for her ass, which he squeezed to elicit a moan. He pulled the hand back and gave her a good smack on the butt, the rush of pain and adrenaline making her stiffen, more blood engorging her privates. Another smack. Another moan. He reached down with both hands and pulled her cheeks apart to make her feel more vulnerable. Then he began fucking her hard again, ravishing her.