them.
"Fuck." Falon sucked in a sharp breath. "Ready? We need to get out of here."
Rita shrugged. This certainly hadn't been the romantic night ride she'd expected. "What's wrong?"
He started the engine but stayed off the throttle. "Forget what you saw down there, forget we rode out this way, and if you're religious, pray we get out of here without getting caught."
***
Chapter Nine
Tension seeped noticeably away from Falon's muscles as they rolled back onto the lot at the Rattlesnake, and Rita couldn't help but appreciate the way those more relaxed contours felt under her hands and pressed to her chest. What the hell had that been back there? Why had it made him so nervous?
She ran the scene back through her mind, but nothing really stuck out. It had all looked about as harmful as a marathon bridge tournament. He couldn't have recognized anyone at that distance, surely. The visibility had simply been too poor. So what did that leave, then?
By the time Falon let the bike stop in a little sheltered area between the camper and the storage shed, Rita still hadn't arrived at a conclusion that made sense. More than a bit reluctant, she slid off the bike, hating how the coolness of the night air replaced the warmth of his body on her front. The damn chin strap of the helmet had wound a thick stand of her hair around itself in a complex knot that required infinite patience to free, occupying the entire time Falon took to secure the bike.
Finished, he took a long slow look around, and seeming satisfied with everything, Falon took her hand and led her several yards across the lot, only to stop in what seemed a totally random spot. When he turned back toward the bike and carefully looked the area over, as if searching for some missing detail, at least he cleared up the mystery of where they'd stopped. At ten yards, the bike should be clearly visible from the security lighting, but it seemed well hidden in the parking spot he'd chosen.
That he felt the need to hide his bike sent a hard rock of apprehension to the bottomless pit of her stomach. "Falon, what's going on? Is someone looking for you?"
The debate over what to tell her played visibly across his features. "I hope not. If they had a lookout, or game cameras set up, or any sort of security measures, they very well could be."
"But why? Do you know them or something?"
His mouth tightened and put his hands on his hips, clearly indicating he'd said all he was going to.
"If you're in danger, shouldn't I know about it? After all, you're renting my camper, and I'd like to think we'll be sharing a bed some, too. So if you're in danger, doesn't that put me in danger?" Damn, maybe she shouldn't have put it that way. He could just as easily walk away and disappear forever.
But he sighed and dropped his hands. "Come inside, let me explain." He fished keys out and led the way to the camper.
Had she made a mistake? Or underestimated him when she considered Kellen more dangerous? Inside, he indicated she should sit at the little table, and offered her a beer from the mini-fridge concealed within the cupboard, then sat across from her.
"You're probably not going to like this, and I won't be surprised if, after you hear it, you decide I'm not the kind of guy you want renting your camper, or sharing your bed." A fine sheen of sweat appeared on his forehead, even though it wasn't all that hot. Worry?
"Why not just tell me first, then let me decide?" The top twisted off her beer with a satisfying hiss and she took the first sip. Hopefully it would make whatever he had to say go down a little easier.
He nodded and opened his own bottle, but rather than drink, he played with the bottle, making an elaborate pattern of interlocking wet rings on the table top. Clearly, her potential reaction to whatever he had to say concerned him.
"Look, just say it, okay? I'll listen first, then tell you what I think of it."
"You're right." He finally took a drink of his beer. "Okay, the thing