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herself.
     
    Her second client was a looksee. Spent a half an hour looking at flash, claiming to want ink but not finding anything that was—her. Sandy tried to feel her out, but got nothing. The woman liked the idea of being rebel enough to get a tattoo without actually wanting to get the tattoo. She’d go out tonight and tell her friends how she’d gone to a tattoo parlor, but hadn’t found anything unique enough to fit her personality.
     
    She took a break after the woman left. The club was open, but there were barely any people hanging around because of the charity ride. Even Mariah was off today, her backup cook sitting bored behind the flattop reading a magazine.
     
    Moving behind the counter, Sandy grabbed a glass and filled it with ice and sweet tea. Back in her shop she dug into her bag and pulled out her cell. Still nothing from Christian. What could it hurt to send a quick text? She typed, ‘Get any sleep?’ and hit send.
     
    *****
     
    The pain in his head wasn’t getting any better. He’d managed to get his helmet off but it had taken every bit of energy he’d had. The nausea had returned, and he’d been breathing very slowly to get it under control. Each movement of his head brought waves of sickness.
     
    It was close to eleven, according to his watch. He’d been out for a while, and that was scary. Every biker was aware of just how dangerous concussions could be. He needed to get closer to the road, try to flag down the first car he saw.
     
    A familiar tone sounded off to his right. His phone! It was the text message alert. It sounded again, and he could tell it was close. Carefully turning his head, he could see the silver case glint in the sun, less than four feet away. He rolled over onto his stomach and reached out, but it wasn’t enough. Raising his head up brought on intense dizziness, so he half army-crawled, half dragged himself a couple of feet, breathing hard as his fingertips touched the phone.
     
    He had to close his eyes and lie still for a moment to be able to see clearly. Everything kept blurring together. The screen was broken, but he could make out the words. It was from Sandy. He clicked the bar to type. ‘Hit by car. Need help. Remember road to my house?’ He hit the send button and closed his eyes again. She’d figure it out. She was smart, his pretty girl.

     
    CHAPTER THREE
     
    Her phone beeped while she was talking to another walk-in client. Mostly they were just shooting the breeze, as he was another looksee. She left him checking out flash and considering his options while she excused herself to check her messages.
     
    The text came up and her stomach flipped sickly. “Tom, I’m very sorry to cut this short, but there’s been an emergency and I have to leave. If you come back another time I will give you a discount on whatever you pick, okay?”
     
    She didn’t really hear Tom’s reply. Her heart was pounding as she grabbed her bag and her helmet. She could barely get the door locked, her hands were shaking so badly.
     
    No, she wasn’t sure where he lived but she knew it was off of the county road that lead to the pond. She’d take that road and keep her eyes peeled for anything familiar. Driving like a maniac attracted the attention of a local cop and she didn’t bother pulling over, just waved for him to follow. If he arrested her, so be it.
     
    The road curved to the left and right so she slowed slightly, finally remembering that they’d followed the curve left. A hundred feet from the curve there were skid marks on the road. She pulled off on the shoulder and immediately saw Christian lying still on the ground. She pulled off the helmet and ran, screaming for the cop to help her. Sliding in the loose, dry soil she got to him in seconds, dropping to her knees beside him.
     
    “Christian?” She reached out and touched his pale face. Behind her the cop was on his radio calling for an ambulance. Christian’s eyes opened, but couldn’t focus on