Tears of Tess (Monsters in the Dark #1)(9)

I glanced at Brax. “You sure you want to explore Cancun on a two wheeled death machine?”

Brax bit the top of the pen, frowning at the hire contract. He flashed me a grin. No residue of fear or sadness from yesterday lingered in his face. Thank God.

“You promised this morning. You agreed today was all about what I wanted to do, and tomorrow is all about you.”

I smiled. “Fine. But, tomorrow, you are so going to put up with getting a massage with me. No moaning.”

He drew a cross over his heart and signed the paperwork with a flourish. He laughed, excitement glowing in his blue gaze. “Do you want your own bike, or dinky on the back of mine?”

No way in hell did I trust myself to weave in crazy, un-choreographed traffic in a foreign country. “I’ll go on the back of yours. You do know what you’re doing, right?”

Images came to mind of us being impaled on the bike rack on the front of a bus, or run over by a truck carrying pi?atas. I shuddered.

Brax scoffed. “I’ve driven a Harley. How hard can a moped be?”

Pretty damn hard, especially with maniacs driving circles around us.

I scowled playfully. “You drove the Harley for all of ten minutes.”

Bill, a building colleague, encouraged Brax to join the local motorcycle group. Brax tried, and promptly said no, which I was super happy about, as driving without doors and a roof freaked me out.

Brax rolled his eyes, tapping the signature bit of my contract. Sticking my tongue out, I signed.

The concierge beamed and walked around the desk. We were in the lobby, and more guests had arrived, a wave of shuffling bags and smiles. The soft murmur of excitement weaved around us, layered with holiday vibes.

“Follow me, please.” The concierge, in his crisp white shirt and bright orange waistcoat, led the way.

Maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea. Hell, we might even get off the beaten tourist track and find something local and new.

I looped my arm through Brax’s, doubly glad I’d put on leggings and my large cream t-shirt today. The outfit offered the best protection of all the clothes I packed. I hoped the frail fabrics would safeguard if we happened to topple.

We followed the concierge out of the hotel and into the basement car park. He unlocked a canary yellow scooter and retrieved two helmets. “Please make sure you keep these with you at all times. It’s a one hundred dollar fine if you lose them.”

Brax nodded, fastening mine with dexterous fingers. His touch sent my heart thrumming. Giving me a soft smile, he fastened his own helmet and straddled the bike.

I stood there, feeling like a ridiculous, overripe pineapple. The helmet weighed a ton.

The concierge handed me an A4 map, and drew a red oval, which I assumed was the hotel.

“This is where you are.” His minty breath wafted over me as he leaned closer, stabbing the map. “If you get lost, ask a policeman for directions. They are all over the city. And don’t separate. It’s best to stay together.”

My pulse thudded a little. Policemen lurked thick in this city. Not only lurked, but loitered on street corners with weapons and guns. Were the Mexican citizens so ruthless and dangerous?

Don’t answer that. Especially when we were about to explore on a contraption offering no safety whatsoever.

Brax patted the seat behind him; I smiled weakly. Throwing my leg over, I rested my feet on the little stirrups and wrapped my arms around his torso like a python.

Chuckling, he turned on the ignition and tested the throttle. “You won’t fall off with the death grip you have, hun.”

That was the plan. I kissed his neck, loving his shiver. “I trust you.” I tried to convince myself, as much as Brax.

The concierge smiled and left us to it. Brax eased off the clutch and we shot forward. My stomach failed to catch up, but after kangaroo hopping a few times, Brax wrangled the bike into submission.

“Ready?” he said over a shoulder.

Lying, I spoke into his ear, “Yep.”

We travelled out of the gloomy parking garage and into the blazing mid-morning sunshine. Even with dirty streets, Cancun reminded me of a vibrant party.

Brax put his feet down, stabilizing the bike as we stopped on the edge of the busy road. His heart thumped under my arms, concentration making his shoulders tight.

We watched as speedsters, crazy pedestrians, and vehicles painted in more colours than the rainbow shot past. For the hundredth time, I wondered just how crash hot this idea was.

“Which way, Tessie? Left or right?”

I swivelled my head, wrinkling my nose. No break came in the traffic from either direction. North, south, east, west—it didn’t matter when everything looked as death-filled and as foreign as the other.

Impulsively, I said, “Right.” Please, let us return to the hotel in one piece!

Brax nodded, scratching his chin where the strap of the helmet strangled him. He rolled forward, his flip-flopped feet slapping on hot pavement. The bike wobbled while we waited a good ten minutes for courage to join the swarming mass of craziness.

I wanted to suggest flagging, and head to the pool—

“Hold on!” Brax sucked in his abs and twisted the accelerator. The bike whined and took off with a skid.

My heart lurched into my throat as we shot forward, narrowly dodging a cyclist with a mountain of merchandise on the back and zipped in front of a smog spewing bus.