She was an adventurer by nature, a professional thrill seeker, and crossing the lawless Arizona desert on motorcycle certainly qualified as dangerous. The tabloid reading masses had a morbid fascination with the 'new old west', and a prominent magazine had hired—no, dared—Lara to cross them. With the same questionable wisdom that had taken her on a one woman war with Natla Industries and the secrets of Atlantis, she had accepted.Lara very seldomly regretted her actions. Regret didn't move you in a forward direction and was a waste of energy. Ever since Lara had been 'awakened' in that plane crash 10 years ago she had moved nowhere but forward. Her father had accused her of having a death wish, and perhaps he was right. She had broken a number of bones over her career on top of being shot, stabbed, scraped and bit by various nasties of the world. Each scar—and there were more than a few—was a medal, though; a testimony that said I survived whatever you have thrown at me. I have. He waited, she came down and he whistled slowly as she did a twirl. Carrie was wearing a pair of knee length shorts and a collared shirt over a tank top.“I thought this was just a date in the park, I didn’t know we were going somewhere fancy?” She laughed and they got their bikes and rode out.Once there they picked a nice spot, out of the way from everyone else. He didn’t want to be disturbed from his relaxing picnic.“You alright?”“I am now,” he uttered as he admired her form, she rolled her eyes and he put the basket down, pulled the blanket out and spread it out. “Hungry?”“Yes, you?”“Famished,” James said as he removed everything from the basket.“You even got wine?”He laughed, “No, it is sparkling grape juice. We are a little young to drink and your father would kill me if we were arrested for possession of alcoholHe removed the plastic stopper from the bottle, filled two paper cups and handed one to her, which they tapped them together.“Paper?”“I figured they wouldn’t break,” she.
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