Free Exposing the Heiress by Jennifer Apodaca

her a grin, stripping away the years that had passed between them. She wasn’t the infamous Alyssa Brooks trying to fill her dead mother’s shoes, and Hunt wasn’t a Marine veteran carrying internal wounds he vented in his art. They were Hunt and Lyssie, ready to ride.
    …
    Hunt loved the speed and freedom of riding, the sensation of going fast enough to outrun the consequences of his choices.
    Total illusion. He couldn’t outrun a bullet, not even on a bike this fast. He knew exactly how to calculate the speed of the bike against the distance between him and his target to make the shot. But right now, with Lyssie pressed against his back, her thighs around his hips, and the wind in their faces, he felt boundless as if anything were possible again. Even with her as just a friend felt pretty damn good. He’d known suggesting a bike ride would wipe that tight tension off her face and make her smile. Much better than when she’d pulled her hands from his when she’d been upset.
    He wanted her to walk into his arms, not pull away.
    After an hour of riding, he slowed near the shack surrounded by other bikes and a few cars. This place was way off the beaten path, mostly known to locals. He doubted anyone would recognize Lyssie. She had her hair tightly braided, no makeup on, and wore one of his leather jackets. She looked like his Lyssie, not the glamorous Alyssa Brooks. Since no one knew she was here, she should be safe. He was armed and prepared just in case.
    As he stopped the bike and killed the engine, the scent of tacos filled the air. “Still up for doing this?” Rough wood picnic tables spread out along the sloping dirt at the side of the taco stand.
    “Yes, is this like a biker hangout?” Holding on to his shoulders, she swung her long leg off the bike and peered down at him.
    He missed her against his back and her arms wrapped around him the second she was gone. Putting the bike on the kickstand, he got off, removed his helmet and retrieved her camera bag, throwing the strap over his shoulder. “Locals who know about it, mostly bikers and a few hikers. Some tourists find it too.”
    She studied the flat-roofed shack with the large ordering window below the handwritten menu. A scraggly line of about seven bearded men and one woman all wearing biker gear waited their turn. Out at the tables, a few more attacked their food. “It’s remote. I mean, I hear the ocean hitting the rocks, but can’t see the shoreline from here. This isn’t where you open a taco stand to get rich.”
    He placed their helmets on the bike, then reached for her hand and led her to the line. He couldn’t see her eyes behind her sunglasses, but her face was flooded with color. So damn pretty. He wanted to put that pink glow on her skin with his kiss and—
    Nope, not going there. Instead he focused on her question. “The owner is a veteran, lost his leg to a roadside bomb. Lost a lot of friends that day too. He doesn’t want to be in the middle of town. Here there’s only one road in and out and that gives him a sense of control.”
    She angled her face toward the shack, her lines screaming compassion. “How long have you known him?”
    “Years. Found this place when I was home on leave.” Hunt had become more and more solitary, taking long motorcycle rides.
    “And most of these guys, they’re vets too?”
    Her words pulled him back to the beautiful woman wearing his jacket. It was too big for her but she didn’t seem to care. She was more interested in the people around them than herself. “Most, yeah.”
    “Do you know them all?”
    He shrugged. “No, but they won’t bother you. These guys want their space. Stay out of their way, and you’ll be fine.” They were quickly moving up the line. “What do you want to eat?”
    “Two carne asada tacos and extra guacamole. Iced tea.”
    Hunt turned to place their orders, paid, and handed Lyssie her box of tacos and chips with extra guacamole. They found a picnic table and dug