Dark Light Book One (The Dark Light Anthology) by unknow

Author:unknow
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: Crushing Hearts and Black Butterfly Publishing
Published: 2012-02-27T05:00:00+00:00

Breakdown

by

Bonnie Bernard

It was easy to see her hair, so that’s what he noticed first. Cobalt blue strands, flashing against the scorching sun and catching the desert breeze. Then he got closer and saw her hat. Oversized and cowboy. The boots caught his gaze next. White and sexy against those tight, black pants. But the cropped t-shirt got him most. Red, with black letters:

667…One Step Beyond Ordinary Evil.

She stood alone in the sizzling center of Nevada-nowhere, a purple backpack propped against her knee and her hitching thumb extended. He slowed. Then he stopped. That’s when he saw the red gem glistening in her belly button, and the matching one in her nose. There was eyebrow jewelry too, and tattoos. An angel on her left bicep and a devil on the right. From a distance, the ink-work had looked like mud, or maybe car grease. She stood by a red, 1964 International truck with its hood popped, so the grease would have made sense, but upon seeing her up close, the tattoos did too.

He shut down the Harley’s engine, motioned toward the International. “Your old beast broke down, huh?”

She raised the pierced eyebrow, making its red gem twinkle against late afternoon sunlight. “No, my spaceship caught fire and crash-landed about a mile from here.”

He looked down at his gas tank, hoping the red on his face could be blamed on sunburn.

She stuffed the backpack over her left shoulder. “So, you gonna give me a ride, or not?”

“I don’t have an extra helmet.”

She shrugged.

“Want mine?” he pointed at it.

She shrugged again. He took it off and gave it to her, hoping the cops would spare him a ticket when he relayed the Good Samaritan story.

“Sorry about the sticker,” he pointed to the helmet’s left side. “It’s supposed to be funny, but most girls don’t see it that way.”

She read it, smirked. “Good one.” Then she put on the helmet. He grinned, because it was always nice to meet up with one of the few girls who got the joke.

“I’m Ryan.” He offered his hand for her to shake. She smirked again and straddled the bike.

“I’m hungry. Know any place that has Chinese?”

“I know we’re about fifteen miles out of a place that probably does.” He started the engine and off they went; two perfect strangers riding into the sunset at the end of a scorching summer day. He was exhausted from riding and she was cute as hell in the helmet that read: 10% of women are battered, but I still like to eat mine plain.

They wound up at a dive motel behind the town’s only Chinese restaurant. Every time they opened the room’s door, stale air blew in, and so did the stink of rancid frying oil and sweltering asphalt. After a romp in the bed between sheets that felt like sandpaper, he took his phone and walked to the Chinese place for a number 3 and broccoli beef. While he was gone, she showered and slipped into a short black skirt with a matching skinny camisole.

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