Chapter 3 The Cavalry?

Engine wide open, the Harley-Davidson ate up the miles of deserted highway.

Dane Hayes stared above the horizon, catching sight of a falling star. An omen, he thought. Good or bad? Of course, out here, falling stars may be common. There was a reason this was called Big Sky Country. Nights like this proved it.

He shifted on his motorcycle, glancing at the odometer. Another thirty miles to go. Compared to the last eight hundred, it would be a piece of cake. He'd been riding for nearly twelve hours, crossing from Canada at the Michigan border. He couldn't wait to pry this bike off his ass.

He glanced at the dark highway, ever watchful for deer and antelope grazing along the side of the road. They could wreak havoc on an unsuspecting driver.

It seemed weird to be riding alone. Bogen's men usually traveled in pairs. Or packs. However, this wasn't the usual trip. He was on a special mission, with a special message for Bogen from Sanchez. A message Sanchez wouldn't trust with just anyone. That trust acknowledged Dane's status. He was one of Bogen's lead men, and Sanchez's action seeded him for the top position. Which was the exact position Dane sought.

Reaching the crest of what he recognized as one of the final hills before his turnoff, he sat forward, hand easing off the throttle. Below him, in the valley, on the opposite side of the road, he saw the blinking yellow flashers of a disabled vehicle. He slowed. Probably some damn farmer's kid had run out of gas while out drinking and driving on a Saturday night.

Well, he wasn't about to stop. The kid was probably long gone anyway, not wanting to get busted for a DUI if a deputy cruised by. Gunning his engine, he picked up speed.

As he drew closer, a glimmer of movement on the highway caught his eye. A pair of elk bounded from around the vehicle!

Braking hard, he skidded. Tires screeched as he fought to hold the bike steady without laying it down. Acrid smoke billowed thickly in the night as he careened sideways to a stop, just beyond the car. The elk disappeared, leaving the highway clear.

Revving his engine, he looked over his shoulder at the car that had distracted him in the first place. To his surprise, the car's interior light came on as the door swung open. He started swearing as soon as he caught sight of the driver's slight frame. A woman. Of all the rotten luck. Turning his motorcycle around, he headed towards her.

Correction, it was a gorgeous woman who stood before him as he pulled in behind her car, his headlight capturing her. He switched off his engine, leaving the headlight on and taking advantage of her temporary blindness. She was indeed the whole package, he admitted begrudgingly. The wolf in him wanted to whistle at the long lines of her legs and the obvious curves beneath her jacket. Her eyes had been huge before he shone his headlight in her face, making him wonder what color they were. Blue? Green? A light breeze carried her scent. Roses. God, she even smelled alluring.

Several strands of windblown, light-colored hair had escaped the neat knot atop her head, framing a delicate oval face. He'd bet she'd been cruising with the top down. Tourist style.

She wasn't from around here. He'd known that even before he'd seen her out-of-state plates. Massachusetts. He would have guessed that. Or New York. She looked like old, East Coast money.

He sized up the situation: a beautiful woman, alone on the side of the highway with a brand-new, broken-down BMW. Damn it! Did she have any idea how much trouble she could be in? He climbed off the motorcycle and strode towards her.

Tessa stared at the dark silhouette of the rider as he dismounted. When she'd first spotted him and realized he was speeding up but didn't see the elk, she had scrambled to exit her vehicle and scare the animals. She hadn't been fast enough, but at least he didn't have an accident.

The concern she felt for his safety evaporated as the man stepped out of the glare and strode towards her. Every Hollywood biker gang member stereotype came to mind. He wore boots, wickedly tight jeans, ripped at both knees, and a worn leather jacket - black of course. He wore no helmet, his dark hair pulled back in a ponytail. A mustache and an abbreviated V-shaped goatee completed the bad-boy picture.

She started to wave him off, tell him she was okay, that help was on the way, but he was already in front of her. Self-conscious, she backed up against the safety of her open car door. The man was tall, probably six feet two inches, which gave him eight inches over her, and added to the menacing figure he cut.

When he stepped closer, into the narrow band of light spilling from the car, she gasped, the stereotype crumbling. The man was incredibly handsome. From his chiseled jaw to his bedroom eyes, his face was perfect. The day's stubble on his cheeks only enhanced his dark looks.

He looked like trouble cruising for a place to land.

She backed up another step and bumped into her car, but still the man approached, crowding her, not stopping until he was almost on top of her. He stretched out an arm, resting his hand on the edge of the car's roof, mere inches from her head, and leaned in close, bowing his head slightly so he controlled the eye contact.

She held her breath and stared up at him, catching a glimpse of icy silver eyes. Unusual eyes. She opened her mouth to speak, but he cut her off.

"You got any idea how dangerous this is? Stuck in the middle of nowhere, on a deserted highway?:

"I--I ran out of gas," she grasped for an excuse. "Besides, I'm not alone." She looked up, noticing that the elk were moving in once more, no longer frightened now that the motorcycle's engine had shut off.

"My....friend....is walking to the gas station and should return any minute."

The man pushed away from the car and backed up slightly. Just enough so she could breathe.

"Back that way?" He pointed in the direction from which Tessa had come.

A lousy liar, she nodded. She couldn't very well say the direction he had driven from. She wrapped her arms across her chest in an effort to warm herself. And to bolster her courage.

He smiled, revealing white, even teeth and a deep, sexy dimple not quite hidden by the mustache. "Then you know there's no gas station for about forty miles and Jeb's won't open until seven."

She closed her eyes in disbelief, opening them again just as quickly. The man didn't move, watching her expectantly.

What did she do now? Lie or run for the very lonely, deserted hills?

Oh Tessa, you are most certainly screwed.