Page 27 of Boys Who Hunt
“Exactly.” He fishes a wad of cash from his pocket and stuffs it in my hands. “Keep this. Bring it with you to wherever you’re going. Make sure it’s visible at some point.”
I frown, confused. “Oh-kay…”
What is he trying to do here?
He leans in and whispers, “Don’t ask why. Just do it.”
His voice lulls me into submission. “Fine.”
“Good boy.”
My heart beats in my throat, but then he releases me and shoves me out the door. “Have fun with that little thief.”
CHAPTER 7
Ivy
I’m waitingnear the overgrown entrance gates with my bike in my hand when a motorcycle stops right next to me, and for a second, I glare with furrowed brows until he takes off his helmet.
“Max?!”
“In the flesh,” he says with a big grin.
“A motorcycle?” I’m impressed. “I didn’t peg you as a guy who’d drive one.”
He pats the seat behind him. “Hop on.”
“What, me? On that thing?”
“Yeah, why not?”
I lift a hand. “No thanks.”
I’d rather not jump on a motorcycle with a stranger, and especially not one who’s part of the Skull and Serpent Society.
“Well, that’s too bad because it gets cold going this fast,” he says before putting on his helmet again.
Suddenly, he doesn’t look so dorky anymore with that leather outfit. Damn, it really fits him nicely.
“See you down at Sammy’s Sandwich Shop, then.” He lowers the visor and hits the gas. “Race you there!”
I laugh as he bolts off, and I hop on my bike. The drive down the mountain is easy; it’s the way up that always makes me question why I ever enrolled here. But I love the carefree days like these, letting the wind sweep through my hair as I race toward Crescent Vale City down below.
When I’m finally at the shop, of course Max’s motorcycle has already been parked out front, and he’s sitting smugly by a table, waving at me like I’m fashionably late.
I roll my eyes and wave back, then head inside.
“Nice of you to finally join me,” he jests.
I sit down on the seat next to him. “Ha-ha. I’m just glad I didn’t die going down the mountain.”
“Hey, I drive safely and responsibly,” he retorts. “You’re just scared, and you won’t admit it.”
“Sure, I’ll admit it.” I shrug. “I don’t get on motorcycles with strangers.”
“Whoa.” He puts his hand against his heart. “You think I’m a stranger?”
His obvious sarcasm makes me laugh, and I give him a playful shove.