Low Sided by A.J. Downey (best detective novels of all time txt) 📕

She bit her lips together and nodded, and had the grace to look borderline ashamed, but there wasn’t a need. I got it. She’d been handed an awful lot of raw deals over her lifetime. It left a mark. Trust was hard to come by in that instance and that was something I for sure understood. I think all of us in the club did.

“C’mere.” I drew her into my arms and wound hers around my waist, gathering her face between my hands and pressing my lips to her forehead. I felt the tension ease out of her.

“I’ve got you,” I promised, looking her in the eyes. “I won’t let anything bad happen to you. Look me in the eye and tell me if I’m lying.”

Her steel blues searched my face right back, and she shook her head slightly. “No, I know you won’t,” she breathed.

I smiled and nodded. “Okay, this is all I need you to do…” I murmured and told her all the things I wanted and needed from a passenger. By the time I’d finished, she looked less spooked, a little more grounded, and all around curious.

We got on the bike and she snugged herself close up against my back and God, that felt good.

“Stick your hands in my pockets if they get cold,” I told her, and she nodded. “Hang on,” I reminded her and fired my bike up. She jumped at the growl and held on a little tighter and I smiled.

“And away we go,” I called, and put us in motion. She looked around as we headed through the trees and I thought to myself, the hardest part of the ride was going to be keeping my eyes on the road ahead and off her lovely face in the rearview mirror.

20

Raven…

The rush of the pavement beneath me was almost as intoxicating as the wind in my face. I know it was stupid, but I almost wished I could take off the helmet to feel it in my hair. I held onto Mace’s lean, hard form through his leather jacket and after a few minutes and one or two sweeping curves took his invitation and stuffed my frozen hands into his pockets.

He called back to me once or twice, slowing to check on me and I grinned and hugged him a little tighter and he would accelerate. I lost myself in the exhilaration of the ride all over again.

How I could have ever been afraid of this was beyond me! This? This was wonderful. I didn’t even know how to explain it. It was like… like being part of the world in a bigger sense. When he carefully pulled us up over the scattered gravel in the street outside the bakery, I was almost sad it was over.

“So, what ‘cha think?” he asked when we got off the bike. I threw my arms around his neck and kissed him soundly as he made this chuckling purr of happy satisfaction into my mouth.

“That… that was…”

He laughed. “A lot different living the scenery versus just watching it go by in a cage, huh?

“Yes,” I agreed. And that was exactly it. It was the difference between watching a movie and being a part of the production.

He held out his hand to me and I grasped it. We went inside to put our names on the waiting list.

I closed my eyes and breathed in the scent of freshly baking things at the bakery counter, of flour and yeast, and from the café side of things, rich maple syrup and frying bacon, and over and under it all, the decadent and robust scent of coffee. It was an assault on the senses in here, loud, the burble of countless conversations reverberating off of the old wooden walls. The crowd, while it could have been overwhelming, it wasn’t. Instead, it was… cozy.

Mace hooked his arm over my shoulders as we perused the bakery menu and leaned in, his lips soft against my temple, his breath warm against my ear as he murmured, “Get whatever you want for the week, babe. My treat.”

“I don’t know what’s good,” I mused, and I could hear his smile. My gaze wandered the hand-drawn lettering on the chalkboard menu over the shelves of bread. There were already several empty slots among the shelves and things crossed out on the board. One or two shelves only held one or two loaves.

“The Crystal Mountain Loaf is always good,” he said, pointing.

“Is there enough room, being on the bike and all?” I asked.

He shrugged. “Be amazed at how much fits in the saddlebags, and I’ve got a backpack in one of them. You could buy one of everything and it’d be a challenge, but we’d make it,” he said. I giggled.

“I doubt I need that many carbs in my life,” I said.

“But they’re so good,” he said, and I laughed.

“It’s true. I think I’ll go for one of those Crystal Mountain loaves and one of those giant cinnamon rolls for tomorrow night when I get up.”

“You got it,” he said and stepped up to the counter to place our order. I smiled and admired the fit of the seat of his jeans as he leaned forward to be heard over the low din by the counter’s attendant.

He ordered some things for his household and with a few pink bakery boxes in a paper bag with handles, the plump round loaf of bread in its plastic bag on top, we headed to the back of the narrow lobby in front of the bakery counter to listen for our name to be called.

Breakfast was everything Mace had sworn it would be – rustic, flavorful, and all-natural ingredients. I happily filled myself with steel cut oatmeal and munched on a side of thick-cut bacon that was the perfect marriage of crispy and chewy.

It was a perfect time spent with Mace, who I couldn’t deny I was falling deeply in love with. I hoped, and not