Free Breaking the Rules by Barbara Samuel, Ruth Wind

aware that there were no noises behind them, that the only sound
anywhere
was the bike as it leaped and jumped. Cautiously, she looked behind them.
    They were on a narrow path overhung with long-armed pines, riding along the edge of a small, clear stream. Zeke edged along, no longer fighting to out-pace a car.
    “This’ll take us to another road a little ways up,” he said over his shoulder. “You all right?”
    “Yes.”
    And she had been until that moment. Suddenly, it all sunk in with a strangely twisted, surrealistic quality. She—Mattie O’Neal, until lately a simple secretary in the English department of a small Midwestern university—was now riding through primeval forest land with some wild stranger, running away from two desperate men who had shot at her. Impossible.
    But she was. The lurking memories of the night that had sent her running in the first place now flooded back, triggered by the sound of gunfire and the terror she’d felt both times. A thick trembling rocked her body, uncontrollable.
    Zeke stopped the bike and got off, gathering her into a sturdy embrace. “You’ll be all right, honey.” He rubbed her arms, her back, firmly. “Take a few deep breaths and get a drink from the stream. I don’t want to hang around long.”
    She nodded and he let her go, taking a canteen from a hook under the seat. He knelt at the edge of the stream to fill it and Mattie stared at him, still uncomprehending. “How—”
    “Come on, Miss Mary,” he said. “Don’t fall apart on me now.”
    She gave herself a mental shake, shoving away the gruesome memories and the terror. Kneeling by the stream, she splashed her face and took a long, calming drink. “I’m ready.”
    He gave her a nod and fired up the bike.
    * * *
     
    It never occurred to Mattie to ask where they were going. Away. That was what mattered. They were going away from Brian.
    Shock cocooned Mattie. The stark, harshly beautiful landscape of the northern Arizona plateau and the constant sound of the bike’s engine numbed her. She gave herself up to the hypnotic sound of the wind, the gritty feel of it on her skin. Vaguely, she was aware of the heat of the sun on her arms, of Zeke in front of her, piloting her escape, of the curious faces of children as they passed.
    In the early afternoon, they stopped at a roadside café in the mountains of New Mexico. Mattie stared at the menu without comprehension. Apparently sensing her confusion, he ordered burritos and coffee for both of them. Mattie ate hers dutifully. She couldn’t think of anything to say that wouldn’t lead back to the horrifying image of bullets flying around them, so she didn’t talk. Zeke didn’t seem to mind. They got back on the road quickly.
    At sunset, they pulled into a small mountain town in Colorado. Pagosa Springs, the sign said.
    The air cooled sharply, and the sudden drop in temperature roused Mattie from her stupor. Zeke drove slowly through the small town, and roused, Mattie looked around curiously. Children played hide-and-seek in some bushes. Through screen doors, supper light fell to porches, welcoming and soft. A dog ran behind a boy on a bike.
    Zeke pulled into a hamburger stand, not a chain, but a mom-and-pop joint with broad windows all around. Old-fashioned. On the door, a fading sign in the colors of the old drive-in movie snack announcements advertised double-chocolate malts and curly fries. Two teenagers occupied a booth by the window, and a young mother with three little children had another. As Mattie watched, a burly man in a sheriff’s uniform paused beside the woman’s table to chat.
    Zeke swore mildly. “I was going to suggest we go in and eat, but maybe it would be better if you stay out of sight.”
    “Why?”
    He gracefully slid from the bike and yanked the helmet from his head. Hair fell down around his shoulders, mussed and yet gloriously sexy. A fist hit her belly at the pure animal beauty of him. “It’s a long story, but if I recognized