Ride Forever

by Amity Cross

  “We’re out of options,” I said, wincing as my head began to throb with a sharp headache. “I’m fairly sure I need a hospital. Butcher can’t fix internal bleeding.”

  A tear fell from her eye, and her hands found mine. “What do we do?” she said, her voice breaking. “I don’t know what to do.”

  “Shh,” I murmured. “It’s going to be okay.”

  “It’s not okay. It’s not.”

  “If we leave the penthouse, we’re done. If we do manage to get out, they’ll find us at the hospital along with the FBI. If we can give them the evidence they need to dismantle the Hollow Men for good, with or without the signed deal, we have a chance.”

  Sloane nodded. “If we leave, then someone else will just step into King’s shoes.”

  “It has to stop here…or it never will.”

  “Self-sacrifice sucks, by the way,” she drawled. “We can always jump off the roof…”

  “We won’t be immortalized in a movie,” I replied. “There’s nothing in it for us. If there’s a chance…” I trailed off, my limbs feeling sluggish. I was so fucking tired.

  “I know,” she murmured. “Let’s take it. All or nothing, right?”

  “Freedom, family…”

  “Love,” she finished for me.

  “Give me the phone,” I said, holding out my hand.

  Reaching up to the bedside table, she plucked the phone up and handed it to me. Dialing for an outside line, I punched in the only number my fading consciousness could remember.

  “911, what’s your emergency?”

  My head swam, and I tasted blood on my tongue.

  “Hello?” the voice asked.

  “My name is Gunnar Mason, and I want to talk to the director of the FBI.”

  “Sir?”

  “I have information that can dismantle a domestic crime syndicate, and I… I don’t have much time.”

  Sloane’s grip tightened on my hand.

  “Tell them… Tell them, the King is dead.”

  Chapter 26

  Sloane

  Artificial lights did nothing for my skin tone.

  Staring at my reflection in the window, I poked at my split lip. Was this what people meant when they said someone looked like shit warmed up? Thinking about all the cuts and bruises I’d collected in the last few months, I snorted. I’d had worse.

  The hospital waiting room was buzzing behind me. To the left was a set of double doors leading to the operating theaters. Behind me were rows of blue plastic seats and scattered piles of tired magazines from nineteen eighty-two. To my right was a desk that saw the comings and goings of hospital staff—doctors, surgeons, nurses. Ringing telephones. Paperwork. In front of me, I could see the parking lot through the window, and in the distance, the entry to the Emergency Room.

  It didn’t feel right, standing here without Chaser. I’d been alone for so long I’d gotten used to my own company, making my own decisions, doing my own thing. Now…I didn’t know how I coped without him.

  The moment when the FBI had stormed the Halcyon hotel and casino was a blur for the most part. Chaser had been rushed off to hospital under guard, and I’d been thrown into a holding cell for the second time in as many weeks. Once our story lined up, and the key I’d stolen from around King’s neck was found to be genuine, the deal Chaser had brokered was upheld. Turned out, that fancy letter was real, after all. It was like one of those Christmas miracles.

  That was how I’d found my way to the hospital only to be told Chaser was in surgery.

  I paced the length of the waiting room, going back and forth, itching at the bandages on my wrists. Glancing at a man and woman waiting for news on their own loved one, I narrowed my eyes. They were looking at me like I was a head case. The bandages didn’t help, nor did the armed FBI agent watching me from the nurses’ station. Apparently, he was there for my protection. Considering what I’d just done to the illustrious leader of the Hollow Men, I was now considered a ‘target.’

  Sighing, I turned back the other way and looked up at the television. It was playing a local news station, but the sound was turned down, and the closed captions were way off and jam-packed with typos. When a story about a brawl at a local casino came on, I couldn’t help smirking.

  The double doors leading to the operating theaters opened, and a doctor in bright blue scrubs walked out. My heart skipped a beat, but he looked right past me and went to see the man and woman. As the lady started to cry and thank the doctor, I frowned. What was taking so long?

  We’d come so far. It couldn’t end like this. Chaser couldn’t die on an operating table. Not when our forever was so close.

  I swallowed the lump in my throat and began pacing again.

  “You’re going to wear a hole in the floor,” the FBI guy said. “You want some coffee?”

  “No,” I snapped. “I want to go home. That’s what I want to do. I want to go home with Chaser.”

  He didn’t react. He just shrugged and went back to watching the exits. “Okay, ma’am, you just let me know.”

  What-ifs started echoing in my brain, growing with each rotation like an out of control snowball. What if he died, and I was all alone?

  “Sloane?”

  I turned, my heart beating double time as I caught sight of a familiar form.

  “Gasket!” I rushed forward, and the old biker wrapped his arms around me. He smelled the same, like oil and spice. Familiar.

  “I’m so glad you’re okay,” he murmured.

  “Are you okay? The guys?”

  “We’re good. Spike got run over. He’s down in the ER.”

  I pulled back. “He got run over?”

  “By a big-ass Harley,” Gasket confirmed with a nod.

  My bottom lip began to tremble.

  “He’s gonna be okay,” Gasket said, looking perplexed. “No one died.”

  “They didn’t?”

  He shook his head, and relief washed over me. Glancing at the FBI agent, Gasket sat me down in the far corner and leaned close.

  “The renegades who made it through will be behind bars before long, the others… Well, Rocket and half his crew are six feet under. Fortitude had the numbers.” He scratched his head. “Spike’s mad he won’t be able to ride for at least six weeks. The doc says he’s broken his leg.”

  “It’s better than being dead.”

  “Try telling him that.” He scratched his beard and sighed. “Listen, the guys… They want to know how you are.”

  “I’m okay. Physically, at least.” I slumped back in the uncomfortable plastic seat.

  “Chaser?”

  “He’s… There was internal bleeding. They’re operating on him right now. I…” I slapped my hands over my eyes to cover my tears.

  Gasket’s hand grasped my shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “He’s going to be okay, kid. I know it.”

  “I did it, Gasket,” I said, my voice wavering. “We were caught… Then he separated us. King…” I sniffed and gathered my composure. “They were beating Chaser in the next room while King hung me for the ceiling. Gasket, if I hadn’t escaped… We were so close to losing everything.” I glanced at the double doors. “I still might lose him.”

  Gasket followed my gaze and nodded. “You don’t have to tell me the details, Sloane. I get it. You’re here now. That piece of shit is dead, and now we just have to have faith in those doctors, okay?”

  We sat in silence, listening to the workings of the hospital around us. I watched a team of men and women in blue scrubs wheel a bed through the doors at full tilt, monitors blaring. My heart twisted, wondering if that was how they took Chaser into surgery. I wasn’t there.

  “God…” I said, thinking back to the moment I’d held Chaser in my arms at the Halcyon. “The moment those FBI agents kicked their way into that penthouse… They saw the blood and the bodies… The looks on their faces when they found us.” I shook my head.

  “Don’t focus on that shit,” Gasket said. “Tell me what you’re goi
ng to do now you’re free. Did you make plans with Chaser?”

  I nodded, thankful for the distraction. “We talked about it a lot.”

  “Yeah?”

  “We’re going to see my friend Yvette. She lives in New York. She’s the one who’s helping out Sam.”

  “Really? You don’t say.” He smiled. “You did good there, kid.”

  “Thanks.” I wanted to shrug it off, but somewhere along this screwed-up journey, I’d learned how to take a compliment. “What about Fortitude?”

  “We’ll go back, clean the place up, and get the garage up and running again. In time, we’ll be able to bring everyone back together again. Then we’ll decide what direction to take the club in.”

  “Betty Marini?”

  I glanced at Gasket. “They still don’t get my name right…”

  He smiled and elbowed me as a man in blue scrubs stood before the double doors. This was it. This was the moment. I wondered if the guy knew how powerful he was at this moment. He literally had my future lying on his operating table.

  I rose to my feet. “That’s me.”

  The doctor nodded, pulled off his scrub cap, and walked toward us.

  I took my helmet off and let the wind stream through my hair as I rode down the expressway into New York.

  Life was like that these days. Grasping it whenever I could, relishing the reminders I was alive. Speed, adrenaline, experience. It was the kind of living on the edge of danger that didn’t include imminent death. I liked it. A whole lot.

  Behind me, I heard the roar of a sexy black motorcycle over the road noise and smiled. Hitting the gas, I took the next exit and descended into the urban sprawl. Far in the distance, I could see the faint outline of the Manhattan skyline, and overhead, a few airplanes streaked across the sky.

  Finally, after our epic cross-country road trip—which had been a much happier part two—I came to a stop outside a familiar apartment complex. The engines turned off, and the silence was almost deafening after the constant roar. Seriously, what was up with that? It was completely weird.

  Chaser threw his leg over his bike and stood beside it, rubbing his side.

  “You okay?” I asked. “You’re hurting a little there.”

  “Yeah. A bit.”

  “I told you we should’ve waited until your ribs were fully healed.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Don’t go being a hero,” I declared, waggling a finger at him. “You only just got the cast off your arm.”

  “A hero?” He smirked and rolled his eyes. “Those days are over.”

  “Thank God.”

  As I got off my bike—my beautiful, black and blue custom painted by Gasket beast Chaser helped me pick out—my cell phone beeped. I reached into the inside pocket of my leather jacket, pulled it out, and pressed the button on the side. No more burner phone, either. I was now a certified adult with a cell phone bill…with my legal name on it. Sloane Mason. Chaser and I weren’t married, but I was getting the paperwork out of the way, or so I liked to say when I teased him. Marriage didn’t matter, but there was no way I was going back to being a Marini, so Mason it was.

  Staring at the message on the screen, I smiled.

  “It’s a text from Gasket,” I said.

  “Yeah? What’s it say?”

  I grinned and ran my fingers over the screen. “The garage is up and running again. He says I can pick up my apprenticeship anytime I want.”

  Chaser made a face and took my cell from me. “You? A mechanic?”

  “Maybe I should go into private security.” I raised my eyebrows.

  “Somehow, I think fixing up engines might be safer.”

  “Spike’s outta hospital, too,” I said. “And the disorderly conduct charges were dropped against Hopper and Watts.”

  “So everything’s wrapped up in a neat little package?”

  I looked up at the apartment block. “Almost.”

  Chaser flung his arm over my shoulder and hugged me against his side. “I love you.”

  “Huh? I can’t hear you.”

  “I said, I love you.”

  I sighed contentedly.

  “You heard me the first time, didn’t you?”

  “Yep. I just like hearing you say it.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “You know, people usually say it back.”

  “I love you, Chaser.”

  He smiled and nodded toward the building. “You wanna go up?”

  We went upstairs, hand in hand, my body jiggling with excitement. Standing in front of apartment fourteen, I danced from foot to foot and knocked on the door. She was going to flip. We hadn’t called, texted, or wrote. It would seriously ruin the surprise.

  The door opened, revealing a tall, leggy blonde and utter chaos behind her. Brittany was laughing up a storm, and over my friend’s shoulder, I could see Sam on the floor, playing a lively game of Barbie dolls with the toddler.

  “Sloane?” Yvette’s mouth dropped open. “Holy shit. Your hair!”

  I grinned and threw my arms around her neck, holding her tight.

  “You’re here?” she asked. “You’re really here?”

  “As real as real can be.”

  She pulled back and ran her hands over my cheeks, then settled her palms on my shoulders.

  I grinned, liking this forever feeling. Love, family, forever—the combination of Chaser’s mantra and mine.

  “How…” Yvette began.

  “It’s a long story, but I made you a promise…and I’ve been known to go to great lengths to keep them.”

  “I can’t… Oh shit! I can’t believe you’re here!” She waved us forward, and Sam rose to greet us.

  I grasped Chaser’s hand, and we stepped into the apartment, across the threshold, and into the part that came after the struggle.

  Into our forever.

  OTHER BOOKS IN THE FORTITUDE MC SERIES:

  One alpha male biker with a dark past.

  One strong-willed woman with a mouth the size of Texas.

  He wouldn’t hurt her…but his desire would.

  The Fortitude MC series is a fast paced MC romance that will have you on the edge of your seat.

  It contains all the gritty love, action, thrills and hot sexy times you expect from an Amity Cross novel…and then some.

  Ride Hard #1

  Ride Long #2

  Ride Forever #3

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  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  AMITY CROSS is the USA Today Bestselling author of wicked stories about rock stars looking for redemption, gritty romances featuring MMA fighters and dark tales of forbidden romance. She loves to write about alpha males and the strong women who challenge them to fall in love.

  Amity lives in a leafy country town near Melbourne, Australia and can be found chained to her desk, held at ransom by her characters.

  Don’t send help. She likes it.

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