“It’s the road folks take when they’re too proud to use the main way into Hell,” I say. “Dead Man’s Curve is back there. Some say the Widow watches it.”
“The Widow?”
“Old road story.”
Her face is pale in the headlights. “A ghost?”
“Maybe.”
She waits.
I should shut up.
I don’t.
“Men say they see a woman in white before they wreck. Some say she warns them. Some say she steps out so bad men swerve.”
Amelia looks toward the bend again, then at the scattered little bits of her life we couldn’t save from the ditch. “And what does she do to women?”
That question lands different.
I glance at the road.
At the fog.
At the place her truck sits broken.
“I don’t know,” I say honestly.
Her eyes hold mine.
Then August mumbles against her neck, “Maybe she helped.”
Amelia goes still.
Oaks looks away.
Wildcat suddenly becomes real interested in a strap.
I don’t say anything.
Because what the hell do you say to that?
Maybe the Widow helped.
Maybe Hell Road got tired of watching Amelia run alone and threw her panties in my face because fate’s got a filthy sense of humor.
It's possible that a slashed tire, a stalled truck, and a wicked curve have brought me a woman who could dismantle Legend's entire world before the sun comes up.
All I know is this.
I was riding Dead Man’s Curve alone, and now I’m not.
Amelia gets into the tow rig with August. Wildcat shuts the door gently, which is probably the first gentle thing he’s done all week. Oaks swings onto his Harley. I walk back to Widowmaker and run a hand over her tank.
“Don’t start,” I mutter to her. “You still get the road.”
Her engine answers when I start her.