“Gimmie your bag.”
She handed it over and he eased it into the back of the van and closed the door. “Let’s go.”
“Sure, can I use your bathroom first?” She didn’t need to go, but she did want to see that quince painting again. And the ocean one.
Noah blanched. “Can you wait until we’re on the road?”
He sounded odd. Edgy.
“Is everything okay?”
“Yeah, we should just get going.”
It was hard to believe him. Nicole scanned the surroundings, looking for whatever had shifted his mood so suddenly. Was he hiding some girl he didn’t want her to see? She caught sight of his front door, saw the black marks that had been smudged across it. “Oh my god, what happened?”
Noah swore. “Get in the van, Nikki.”
But she walked toward the door, squinting, trying to work out what the smudges were—soot? Garbage? When it clicked, she felt like an idiot. It was spray paint; someone had tagged Noah’s house. She turned her head to the side, trying to work out what the biggest graffiti scrawl said. When she did, she gasped from the sheer ugliness of it. Horrified, she whirled on Noah. “Who did this?”
He rubbed his forehead so hard it was like he was trying to smudge his hand tattoos. “Get in the van.”
“Stop saying that and talk to me. Are you in trouble? Is it the…?” She couldn’t bring herself to say ‘The Rangers’, and that was just, as well. At the mere implication, Noah opened his eyes.
“I’m not talking about it here.” He opened the passenger door, his jaw set, his pupils like pinpricks. Nicole was about to comply when she noticed his windows, or rather, the lack of them. All four frames had been taped up.
“Did you get robbed?”
He sighed. “What do you think?”
He was utterly serious, but Nicole had the strangest urge to mess with him. Which was weird because she never felt like messing with anyone. She put her hands on her hips. “What if it was me? What if I did it?”
There was a short pause. Noah glanced at the sky, shaking his head as though asking God why this was happening. Nicole could tell he was trying not to smile.
“Icouldhave done it,” she said. “I’m mysterious.”
“Sure,” he said, but the warmth had returned to his voice. “C’mon, Nikki, I mean it. Let’s get out of here.”
Despite her joke, silence fell when Noah got behind the wheel. Nicole couldn’t understand it, sure someone had written ‘dog cunt’ on his door, but he hadn’t been mad when she showed up. He’d been mad when she noticed it. He’d been trying to protect her or something. They travelled across the empty streets of Brunswick and toward the city without a word. She wanted to ask him if he knew the way to Adelaide—he didn’t have his phone open on a GPS app—but thought that might insult his biker heritage.
They crossed the Bolte Bridge and Nicole had to bite her tongue to keep from talking about how pretty it was. The sun was climbing steadily, washing the Melbourne’s CBD in golden light. The skyscrapers always looked so clean and colourful from this angle, framed against a periwinkle blue sky. She looked out at the concrete flats of South Warf, the gleaming Rialto tower, and spotted the Estrada building where Scott and Toby worked.
“Nice view.”
Nicole turned, delighted. “It is nice! My dad used to drive us across the bridge just to see the city from here. I love it!”
Too enthusiastic. Noah’s smiled dimmed a little. He didn’t reply and she didn’t press, turning her attention back to the view, the van purring around them like a four-wheel motorcycle. Noah drove well, keeping a reasonable distance between the van and other cars. She thought of Aaron stop-starting and swearing and tailgating anyone he thought had wronged him. Being in the car with Noah was soothing, like having a personal bodyguard.
She looked across at his profile and wondered if he’d find that idea offensive. Maybe, but he didn’t have to know. He could be her bodyguard in her head, ready to protect her from Aaron and Sam and Tabby and her old friends and her old life. But her tongue didn’t seem content to keep the idea to herself. “Do they have bodyguards in bikie gangs?”
She braced for irritation, but Noah didn’t seem offended by the question. “Sometimes, if a big boss knows someone's out to get him.”
“Or her.” Nicole paused. “Are there female bikies?”
Noah shook his head.
“Is that sexist that women can’t be bikies? Should weaspire to be bikies? If there were female bikies, would the world be a better place?”
He snorted. “Probably not.”