Demanding Ransom - By Megan Squires Page 0,27

to change that for you.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure. I’ve had over a decade of practice in hardening this shell.”

“That sounds like a challenge. One I readily accept.”

“Ran,” I sigh. “I don’t think you know what you’re getting yourself into.”

“No, but I hope I’m about to find out.” He jumps to his feet and pulls me up with him. “Have you ever ridden on the back of an impossibly fast vehicle?”

“No.” I feel my stomach clamp down and the taste of acid swims at the back of my mouth.

“Well, consider this just one of the many firsts you and I are going to experience together.”

***

Ran kicks the stand down with his boot and cranes his neck back my direction. My fingernails dig into the worn leather of his black jacket and my death grip doesn’t loosen, even when he kills the motor.

“Maggie?” Ran slides his helmet up and then reaches over to lift mine off. My hair spills onto my shoulders and I shake it out, but my fingers still cling tightly to Ran’s torso. “Maggie, we’re here. You can let go now. That is, unless you don’t want to.”

I pry my hands loose. “Promise me I’ll never have to do that again?”

“No girl has ever said that to me.” He flashes a wide grin. “About anything. They always beg for more.”

“Your overconfidence is beginning to wear on me.” I shove my helmet into his stomach and scoot past him toward the restaurant entrance, my shoes making intentionally loud crunching noises on the concrete walkway. I hope the irritating sound effectively conveys my own irritation with him right now.

“If by that you mean I’m starting to wear you down, then that’s exactly the point.”

Ran takes two long skips past me and catches the handle of the door just as a family exits through it. “Ladies first. Though you weren’t much of a lady on that bike, cussing like a sailor and all.”

“I was scared shi—” I compose myself and start again. “I was scared out of my mind, Ran.”

“There’s no reason to be scared. I know how to handle that thing. I’ve been riding for years.” He thumbs his chin. “You’d be amazed at what I can handle, Maggie.”

A woman behind a podium at the entrance acknowledges us and guides us toward an empty table near the back of the restaurant, two menus in hand. It’s dark and secluded back here, with the cadence of noise and chatter drowned out by a substantial floor-to-ceiling curtain partition that drapes around the table.

“Will this be okay?” She gestures a hand toward the seat.

“Do you have anything more…out in the open?” I scan the room.

“Uh, I can check—”

Ran pulls out my chair. “No, this will be fine. Thank you.”

I reluctantly drop into my seat and Ran takes his position across the table from me. “Maggie, you don’t need to be afraid of me. I’m not in the business of hurting people. I’m in the business of comforting them.”

“Then why do you make me so uncomfortable?” I keep my eyes on the menu in front of me, but in my periphery I see the hopeful features on his face fall.

“I make you uncomfortable?”

I push my menu up higher to block him out completely. “Sorta.”

“You make me uncomfortable—”

Before I can demand a response, a pimple-faced waiter that looks like he’s twelve materializes at the edge of our table, spouting off some rambling about tonight’s specials, but I don’t hear him. I just hear Ran’s assertion that I make him uncomfortable over and over in my head like it’s on repeat.

“And if you wouldn’t mind, can you take this from her? She really can’t be trusted with sharp objects.”

I see Ran’s fingers slide across the table to pull the knife off my napkin. He hands it to the waiter and shoots me another one of his unfair grins. I would probably be mortified by his demeaning act if he didn’t turn me on so much.

“Uh, yeah, sure.” The waiter tucks the utensil into his apron, dumbfounded. “I’ll give you two a minute to look over the menu. Let me know if you have any questions.”

I drop my eyes back down to the list of sushi rolls and sashimi.

“Do you have any questions, Maggie?” Ran peers over the table at me. His menu is face down and his arms are bent across his chest as he precariously balances his chair on the back two legs.

“I have lots of questions,” I offer. “But not about the menu.”

“Is that

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