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Ride

It wasn't good weather for a ride, the morning's heavy summer rain had left the streets slick with oil but Remy couldn't stand another moment in the mansion.

Things between Stormy and Logan were - bad. Things had been said that Remy wasn't sure could be forgotten. And suddenly, Remy had been reduced to some sort of victim - no one was listening to him - despite the fact that he was the one they were fighting over. Remy gunned the engine and skidded out of the garage, fishtailing briefly before he steadied the bike and raced down the long driveway and out the half open gates. Free of the mansion, he tossed his lose hair back and breathed deep. The weight of everyone's emotions blew away in the damp wind and the Cajun grinned, teeth bright in the dark, as he sped into the night.

Remy kept his attention on the road and the smell of the summer air, the way the heavy half full moon illuminated the treetops and the occasional brilliant flash of oncoming headlights. He swung off the highway, heading north where lonely roads would be empty this late and he could let the expensive Italian racer stretch its legs. The high performance engine hummed sweetly between his legs and the air was cool on his face. The roads, at night, slightly slick after the rain, were enough to keep his mind off the mansion. Under the moon, its silver light kind on his eyes, he could just ride the wind.

Remy let the roads take them where they wanted, north or east or south - casting a miles wide circle around the sleeping mansion that held so much of his heart hostage.

Somewhere along a narrow road, the characteristic deep-throated roar of a Harley carried to the Cajun's ears. He smiled.

The thief played with the unseen Harley; marking its distance by sound, gunning his own higher pitched engine and finding a crossroad that would take him onto the same road as the other bike but a mile or so ahead. The sounds of their bikes were the only noises in the late night countryside as they raced along some narrow rule road. Remy raced ahead of the American bike, smirking as he heard the heavier bike straining to catch him. Then, the sound faded.

The thief cocked his head, slowing is bike to hear over his engine. The Harley was out there, off the road they'd been sharing moments before. He looked off to the left, where black tree trunks flashed by, briefly illuminated by his low-intensity lights. The Harley was out there - somewhere.

Remy wasn't familiar with the roads out this far and he sped along, listening to the fade and swell of the Harley nearby. It was paralleling him - and gaining. The thief leaned over the bars of his bike and gunned the engine. The road he was on had curves and Remy cursed as he took the turns as tight as he dared - forced to decelerate slightly - the sound of the Harley faded and swelled. He squinted into the wind, hair whipping across his face. There was a crossroads ahead, he sped towards it, hearing the Harley growing louder and louder.

When he was just barely twenty feet from the crossroads, a dark, roaring shape cut across the road. Remy shouted, the Harley roared, red tail lights winking triumphantly in the night as it cut across the road he was on. The thief shouted again, laughing at the same time. He dropped the clutch and wrenched the handlebars around. Tires shrieked as Remy skidded into the intersection, fighting momentum as he took the sharp turn off after the Harley, he slid all the way across the street, nearly ending up in the ditch before he regained control. The lights were still in sight, the deep American engine loud in the night. Remy opened the throttle on his Italian racer.

The Italian bike had speed but the big American monster had power. The roads were hilly, narrow and curved and the damn Harley managed to stay just ahead. Every time Remy was sure he was going to catch up, the Harley would take a turn into another road. Once - speeding far to fast to risk the turnoff - Remy missed the turn entirely and had to race along the silent street until he found another crossroads. This one dumped him out ahead of the Harley and he shouted triumphantly. The Harley growled behind him. Heart pounding with wild joy, Remy fled ahead of the predatory howl of the bike behind him.

On a road narrow enough that the trees cut the moon light off, the Harley ambushed Remy, sliding onto the street a dozen yards ahead of him in a flurry of broken branches and mud. The thief cursed, crouched low to minimize wind drag and sped after the single red eye.

At a fork in the road, the Harley peeled off and Remy chose the straightaway. The Harley's engine paralleled him for miles as the thief ran the suicide line, weaving back and forth across the deserted road for the joy of feeling the hot engine between his legs sing. The night wind combed back his hair as Remy turned south, towards home. The noise of the Harley faded.

Remy slowed, taking the turn into the mansion's driveway at an almost sedate pace. He idled the engine as he eased into the garage. Cutting the engine on his lean Italian bike, Remy swung off with a yawn. The smell of the night was still in his nose and he stretched drowsily. He'd be able to sleep tonight.

Logan's bike was parked nearby, tucked neatly into the shadows. Remy paused, resting a hand on the Harley's engine, it was scorchingly hot. The metal was ticking loudly as it cooled and the smell of fuel was strong in the air. Remy smiled.

END