Chasing Allie (Breaking Away Series #2)

by Meli Raine

  CHASING ALLIE

  (BREAKING AWAY #2)

  MELI RAINE

  WHAT IF ROMEO AND JULIET HAD A HAPPY ENDING?

  The son and stepdaughter of rival drug dealers, Chase Halloway and Allie Boden know the odds are stacked against them, but love doesn’t care about odds. Love only wants to find a way.

  Chase Halloway knows he’ll take over his father’s motorcycle club when old Galt Halloway’s done, but he has dreams. Plans that have nothing to do with the drug ring his father’s so carefully built since Chase’s mom died years ago. Untamed and unmoored, when he sees Allie for the first time he realizes maybe the future doesn’t have to be so lonely...

  Protected by Chase during a blow-out brawl in her stepfather’s bar, Allie can’t believe the tattooed, muscled man who has eyes only for her really wants her...forever. With a past marred by her mother’s death and a stepfather who won’t let her leave for sinister reasons she doesn’t understand, she wants to choose Chase and her own fate.

  Drawn together by an attraction so strong they can’t find words for it, and unable to resist a physical temptation so strong they can’t deny it, can Chase and Allie’s love survive kidnapping, murder, false accusations and more?

  The Breaking Away series is a new romantic suspense trilogy: Finding Allie, Chasing Allie, Keeping Allie. Each is a full-length novel, and by the end of book three Chase and Allie get the happily ever after they so richly deserve.

  Chasing Allie (Breaking Away #2)

  It turns out my stepfather has plans for me.

  Plans that make dying look like a walk in the park.

  He’s selling my virginity to a Mexican drug lord to get out of debt. Chase just found out and is here to take me away to safety. To the ocean. To my dreams.

  But while I’m gone, a murder takes place back home.

  I receive a phone call. It’s the police.

  I’m the prime suspect.

  And if I go back, I may become the prime victim.

  They say love conquers all, but can Chase save me from this?

  Copyright © 2015 by Meli Raine

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author / publisher.

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  CHASING ALLIE

  CHAPTER ONE

  “Hey!” I shout. “I’m right here.” I point to myself. “I’m a human being and you’re talking about me like I don’t even exist.”

  “Oh, you exist all right, honey,” Galt says slowly. “Pretty soon you’re gonna wish you didn’t.”

  Chase tenses up. “What the fuck does that mean? And what do you mean, she’s ‘taken’?”

  Galt laughs through his nose. Frenchie just smirks, but his eyes stay on me. “Be glad you don’t know. Either of you. Now c’mon. We need to get her back to the bar.”

  “I’m not taking her back there. That’s where she ran away from today when I found her on the road,” Chase grinds out.

  Galt gives me a sharp look. “Running away? For good?”

  The skin on my arms and legs—the parts that aren’t road rash—starts to tingle. Something’s going on here that he’s not saying. It starts to freak me out.

  “I had a fight with Jeff. I got on my bike to go for a ride.”

  “Okay, Girlie,” he says. “Now get her on your bike, Chase, and you take her back to the bar.”

  “I’ll go home,” I say. “But not the bar.”

  Galt spits a few feet from me. He’s got a big chunk of chew in his lip. Ew. Thank goodness Chase doesn’t share that habit with his dad.

  “Fine. As long as Chase delivers you to Wakefield, that’s all I give a shit about.”

  “I will. You can go now,” Chase spits out.

  “Oh, no. Nosiree. You’re getting the finest escort your stupidity can buy. Me and Frenchie here are following you to her house and making sure you deliver her.”

  “With a cherry on top,” Frenchie adds with a laugh.

  “That don’t make sense, Frenchie,” Galt says. “Not even funny.”

  “You know, Galt. Cherry? Her cherry? ’Cause she’s a virgin.”

  “I get it. But it’s not funny.” The two walk back to their bikes, bickering like an old married couple complaining about the veal at an early-bird diner special.

  “Great. I’m being forced to go back home and our escort is something out of an old sit-com on TVLand,” I mutter.

  Chase doesn’t react, other than to spit on the ground away from me and wipe his mouth with the back of his hand.

  A beam of light shines on his face. “You’re bleeding!” I gasp.

  “Split lip,” he says with a snort. “Now we match.”

  “Oh, Chase,” I sigh, limping to him and reaching up with a creaky elbow to touch his face. “Did Frenchie hurt you?”

  “Only my pride,” he says. “The way that animal looks at you pisses me off. He can’t do that.” Chase’s eyes laser in on mine. “No one can. And no one will.”

  I believe him.

  “Thank you,” I say quietly. Two bikes start, the engines roaring.

  “Chase!” Galt bellows.

  “But you can’t just beat the hell out of every guy who talks about me like that.”

  “Watch me.” Chase slides his arm gently around my waist and helps me walk to his bike. I stand before it.

  Lifting my leg and climbing on might as well be the same as me summiting Mt. Everest right now.

  I whimper at the thought of the pain I’m about to feel.

  Chase’s face crumples in a sympathetic expression that seems like there’s a little too much emotion in there. It’s been a long day. It started with getting together with David, then David brought me here to Chase’s. I’ve had a fight with Jeff and a huge bike accident. Then Chase brought me to his little house and we nearly made love.

  It’s been a huge day.

  And not just for me. I can tell Chase is barely holding it together. He’s trying to be strong for my sake. I appreciate it, and reach out for him.

  “Oh, baby,” he says, his voice choked with empathy. “It’s gonna hurt you so much to climb on my ride. But you have to do it, Allie.”

  “I know,” I whisper. My tears feel so thick on my tongue. “I know I do. It just all hurts, Chase.” Breaking down sobbing, I cry into his chest, the salty sting of my tears on my scabbing-over wounds hurting. The little pinpricks of pain are no match for the enormous ache in my joints.

  And the giant hole in my heart.

  “I don’t want to go home, Chase,” I whisper. Maybe that’s obvious, but I have to say it anyhow.

  He nods, holding me close. I feel the movement of his chin against the top of my head. “I can tell. I wish I could keep you here. No fucking way you’re going to the Atlas compound with me. Those guys would—” He makes a disgusted sound. “Let’s just say Frenchie’s a gentleman compared to some of the guys.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  Galt and Frenchie have the decency to wait at the end of the driveway while Chase takes me straight up to my front door. It’s a miracle I managed to hold on through the ride home. Every muscle and bone in my body is screaming out in pain.

  The thought of unwrapping my legs from Chase and walking into my house makes me want to cry. Not just because it means Chase will leave, but because I don’t know if I can walk u
p a flight of stairs to my bedroom. Maybe I can just sleep on the couch.

  No. That won’t work. I don’t want Jeff to come home and find me there. The screaming would just start sooner. At least if I’m upstairs and in my bedroom there’s a delay.

  Chase puts the bike’s kickstand down and carefully slides off the bike, turning fast to hold on to me and keep me stable.

  “Put your arms around my neck,” he says in a soothing voice, and somehow he’s strong enough to pull me off the bike in a way that makes me not feel as much pain.

  I stand in front of him, legs quivering not from desire but from exhaustion.

  “You need to go in there, drink a big glass of water and take some painkillers. Then go to sleep.” He brushes the hair off my forehead. “And when you wake up, don’t look in the mirror,” he adds with a sad grin.

  “That bad?”

  “You look like you’d make a great stunt person.”

  I chuckle and look at my feet. “I think there’s only room for one stunt person in this couple.”

  The air between us changes. Couple. There. I said it.

  Couple.

  Chase tilts his head and his hair falls in his eyes. It makes him look so wild and free. “Couple,” he says, no question in his voice. “I like the sound of that.” He leans down and gives me a sweet kiss on the lips.

  Someone guns an engine in the distance.

  Chase makes a grunting sound of frustration. Message received.

  Message despised.

  I take a careful step up to the little concrete platform in front of the door to the house. The motion-detector light turns on. Chase stands in front of me, still on the ground. We’re eye to eye.

  “I guess that makes you my girlfriend, Allie.”

  My heart sings. It echoes throughout the wide plains of the desert land.

  “And you’re my boyfriend,” I whisper as he comes in for a kiss, this one more than just a gentle peck.

  The sound of more than one engine splits the night before we can kiss. Jeff’s car comes into view, followed by Galt and Frenchie’s motorcycles. Oh, God. This is the last thing we need.

  Chase tenses and puts his arm around me, protective as usual. “I knew it was a bad idea to bring you back here,” he says under his breath as the engines come to a halt. Jeff’s car door swings open violently. Who’s running the bar? I wonder.

  I’m too tired to be scared anymore.

  “If you laid a fucking hand on her and spoiled her, Chase Halloway, there’s gonna be blood to pay,” Jeff shouts as he storms up to the door. It’s clear he expects Chase to move.

  It’s also clear Chase isn’t leaving my side.

  Jeff’s words sink in. Spoiled? Spoiled? Why are so many people suddenly worried about my hymen? It’s not like my virginity has been the topic of so much conversation in, like—ever.

  Galt and Frenchie are hanging back, near the lone tree in our front yard. They’re just watching. I’m sure if I could see their faces in full light they’d be smirking.

  “None of your business what I do with Allie,” Chase answers.

  “What?” Jeff screams, face bright red, eyes bugging out. “Fuck you, you dumbass little shit. Allie’s business is my business.” Then Jeff makes a mistake.

  A big one.

  He reaches forward to grab my arm.

  Chase punches him. Hard.

  Jeff goes down and Galt and Frenchie quickly prop up their bikes and come jogging over as Jeff stands, wiping blood from his mouth.

  “Like that, huh?” Jeff says, looking hard at me. “You fucked him?”

  “No!” I shout.

  Jeff squints in the light and really looks at me for the first time. “What in the hell happened to your face?” He glares at Chase and comes at him. “You don’t get to hurt her like that, you sick fuck.”

  I’m shocked. That’s the most, um...emotional I’ve ever seen Jeff get about me.

  “He beat you bad?” Jeff asks me. He’s an inch away from Chase and they’re ready to kill each other. Frenchie leans against Jeff’s car and Galt walks over.

  “You two need to cool it. Your daughter—”

  “Stepdaughter,” Chase and I say.

  Galt rolls his eyes and sighs, hooking his fingers in his belt buckle, showing off a gun and two knives. “Stepdaughter fell off her bicycle on the road. Chase rescued her. Took care of her. See the bandages?”

  Chase gives his dad a wary look. Why’s Galt covering for him?

  I keep my split lip shut.

  Jeff looks at the white cloth spots all over my arms and legs. Takes in the road rash on my face. “That true?”

  I just nod. We don’t need to go into the specifics of exactly how Chase took care of me...

  “Well, then. At least you did something right,” he says in Chase’s general direction. “Now all of you get the fuck off my property. Allie, you go to bed. I got a bar to get back to and run.”

  Chase’s eyes meet mine. It’s okay, I mouth.

  I’ll be back, he mouths back.

  I know he will. I smile.

  By the time the three bikes rumble off onto the main road I’m in bed, head throbbing, two pills in my stomach and a giant, swollen heart filled with so much love for Chase Halloway.

  If only I’d known in that moment that love can’t conquer all.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Jeff insists I go in to the bar early. I slept for twelve hours straight last night. A dreamless sleep. My face looks horrible and I even scraped off some of my hair itself over my ear when I fell.

  I really do look like a zombie from a movie or something.

  Jeff drove me in. He’s not letting me out of his sight for a while, he says, which is stupid. I am eighteen years old. What I do with my own time is my business.

  While he’s on an errand to talk to an ice distributor in town I check my stash. I forgot to put seventeen more dollars in there the other day, and as I pop open the tampon machine something doesn’t seem right. A sick ball of doom starts to tingle in my belly, cold and fearful.

  It’s empty.

  The tampon machine is empty.

  My money is gone.

  I had $371 in there. All my money. Months and months of careful savings to get to Los Angeles and start living my dreams.

  I’m in shock. I shake the machine—empty. I open the door completely and check every corner with my hand—empty. I check three, four, five, ten times, as if by magic my money will reappear.

  Empty.

  I slump against the tiled wall of the bathroom and slide down to the ground, staring at the vacant machine with disbelief. My hair snags on a piece of cracked tile. It snaps off, leaving a pile of black strands midway down the wall. It’s like the building wants a piece of me. An ominous sign.

  I’m never leaving, am I?

  There’s nowhere else the money could be. It’s not like this place goes through so many tampons that anyone needed to change the stock.

  Someone figured out my stash and took it.

  I stumble into the hallway and make my way to the main bar. My legs feel like rubber bands.

  Gone. All my money is just gone.

  At that moment, the front door opens. It’s Jeff, walking in past the bar and into the hallway. Boots sound different on the open bar’s wood floor versus the tiled back of the building.

  I stand, rage filling me, and march down the hallway from the opposite end. He’s in the office before I can confront him, and he closes the door.

  Then locks it.

  Jeff never locks the office door unless he’s counting money.

  Where did he just go?

  I knock. Then, before he can answer, I pound. Hard. All my fear, all my good little girl behaviors, all my anxieties about angering him drain out of me until I’m empty.

  Just like the tampon machine.

  “What the fuck?” Jeff shouts.

  “Get out here,” I shout back. “NOW!”

  I never yell at him. Never. But I don’t care n
ow.

  I’m all done with caring.

  “You stole my money,” I say as he opens the door. My hands grip the threshold. I’m blocking him with my body.

  His eyes light up. “Oh, yeah? So I was right. That was yours.”

  “Of course it was mine, you asshole!” He flinches at the nasty name. I’ve never said anything so bad to him in my entire life. “It was in my music box. The one Mom gave me. Give it back.”

  “What were you planning to do with the money, little girl?”

  “Get the fuck out of here, that’s what,” I say, holding back the desire to spit in his face. My vision starts to change, the sheer fury in me pumping every emotion to the surface of my skin, my hands, my eyeballs.

  “With three hundred and seventy-one dollars?” He hoots like an owl, the sound making my blood pump harder. “You have a real naive idea about how the big, bad world works out there. I bet you think you can go to Los Angeles and be with your sister,” he taunts, walking out to the open bar, acting like I’m barely there.

  Oh, I’m here all right.

  “It’s my money. I worked for it. I slaved away in here and you didn’t pay me and it’s mine!” I scream, following him. I hate feeling like I’m a little girl, chasing him for attention. This time, though, the attention I want is very, very different.

  This time, he answers to me.

  He turns around and looks at me. “What the fuck is wrong with you? You on your period? You don’t scream at me like that. Not ever.”

  The door opens just as Jeff comes so close to me, his hand reaching for my shoulder. Or maybe my neck.

  It’s Chase.

  And he’s holding a shotgun.

  Pointed right at Jeff’s head.

  Whatever I was about to scream back at Jeff dies in my throat. All I can say is, “Chase?”

  I can’t believe my eyes. Is that really Chase across the bar? Jeff is staring at him like he wants to kill him. And he does. My heart slams against the bones of my ribs like it’s trying to break through. Maybe I should let it. Then it wouldn’t hurt so much.

  The tension between Chase and Jeff just might break me. I could give in to it. Not because I care about Jeff, but because all I want to do right now is throw myself into Chase’s arms.