by Amity Cross
“You fuckers are meant to protect your women. Not whore out your own children.” I snorted. “I wish that’s where it ended.”
Everyone was out to get to the leader of Fortitude MC through me, either by winning my favor or doing me harm. Once I’d learned that harsh truth, no one had ever gotten close again. It wasn’t worth the pain and misery of being used. Everyone and everything in life had an ulterior motive called personal gain. No one gave a shit about other people’s feelings. Even love was a sham.
My mom loved my dad until it got her killed. That was how much it mattered.
Chaser could go fuck himself sideways with a rusty hacksaw.
He was hot as all get-out, but he wasn’t worth the hassle. Cracking his code would take a lifetime, and besides, he hadn’t shown me any redeeming qualities so far. Saving my life didn’t count when he was doing it under orders.
Yvette had said it jokingly, about taking Chaser out for a ride to relieve some tension, but there was no way I would let him near me now. He’d just revealed his true colors, and they were the shade of Fortitude MC. The shade of blood and the all-mighty dollar.
Chaser was saving me from a terrible fate, but he was delivering me to one just as shitty. He wasn’t turning around or letting me go. He was a sheep who would follow orders or die trying. I’d tried to bait him and win him to my side, but all I’d done was piss him off.
Went to show you could never trust a pretty face.
Sighing, I turned toward the window and stared at the passing landscape. It was time to formulate an escape plan.
“What? Giving up so soon?” Chaser asked.
“You’re the one who just told me to shut the fuck up,” I retorted. “You love the fight, Chaser. And the things you love? I would rather die than give them to you.”
Chapter 7
Sloane
I’d never seen a grown man pout like Chaser.
Either it was just the way he looked or he was pissed he didn’t get his own way. Either way, all men like him were the same. Sadistic bastards who liked to see women squirm.
Watching the landscape change outside the car window, I studied the horizon. A bluish-purple tinge faded upward with a smear of clouds that broke it all up into pieces.
Trees flanked either side of the road. Then a yellow road sign flashed past telling trucks to use their breaks. Down the steep hill, a hand-painted placard advertising a garage and diner loomed in the distance, telling us it was only two miles to Meta Gas ’n’ Go.
Welcome to Kentucky.
Chaser turned the car off the main road and onto a smaller piece of asphalt that led toward the town.
My stomach squirmed, hoping for something edible at the mysterious diner and a way out of this mess. Pressing my nose against the window, my hopes were dashed when I saw the population count on the welcome sign. Two hundred and ninety-two.
So, the plan remained the same for now. Play along, give Chaser what he wanted, fish for information on who was after my dad, and the moment his guard slipped, make a break for it. As long as the break was in a populated area with adequate means of transportation and evasion—from both parties.
The Gas ’n’ Go wasn’t much to look at. Neither was the town. It was a ‘blink and you’ll miss it’ kind of set up. The garage had two pumps and a sign displaying the current per gallon price. It looked like it was from the seventies and had various so-called ‘modern upgrades’ tacked on here and there.
When he cut the engine, Chaser flung the door open and got out.
Following his lead, I slid out of the tin can and rounded the hood, stretching my arms over my head. Man, my ass was numb.
Glancing up and down the street, there was no one around. Other than movement inside the Gas ’n’ Go from the lone employee on duty, we were alone.
Chaser eyed me over the top of his sunglasses, the muscles in his bare arms tensing.
Resigning myself to the fact there was no chance of escape without causing a scene, I leaned against the side of the car. Squinting my eyes in the sunshine, I watched the display tick over. Dollars and gallons.
“What’s he into this time?” I asked, fishing for information.
Chaser grunted.
“Father dearest?” I prodded. “Has he graduated from petty turf wars fought with Molotov cocktails?”
“He can explain that,” he replied. “It’s not my business.”
“If you’re Fortitude, then it is your business.”
“Maybe you misheard me. It’s not my business to tell you.”
“It must be some heavy shit,” I went on after a moment. “Full-on mafia. Has to be if some Pube Face is trying to rape and murder me on the other side of the country. Especially since I’m not part of that fucked up family anymore.”
“Pube Face?” Chaser raised an eyebrow.
“C’mon. You saw the guy. He had ratty ginger pubic hair all over his face.”
“You really don’t care, do you?” He shook his head, and his jaw tensed.
“Care I was almost raped while my throat was slit?” I kicked the toe of my boot against the side of the pump. “Of course, I care. Does a woman have to be crying and inconsolable for a man to realize she gives a crap about something?”
“No.”
“Good. But why do you care if I care?”
He raised an eyebrow and pulled the nozzle out of the fuel tank.
“This world is already fucked up,” I went on. “Either that or I’ve seen too many violent movies and been desensitized to it, even when it’s happening to me.”
“That’s not a good thing.” He returned the nozzle to the pump.
“Duh.”
“I’m going inside. Get back in the car.”
Shoving off the side of the car, I darted between the pumps and sauntered toward the automatic doors. Chaser was beside me in an instant.
“I said—”
“Get over yourself. I’m not going to do a runner.”
He grabbed my arm and pulled me to his side, making me stumble.
“I’m hungry,” I declared, tensing at his closeness.
“Get back in the car, and I’ll bring you something.”
His attitude was really wearing me down.
“Chaser, we’re in buttfuck nowhere.” I waved my hands around, forcing him to let me go. “Who’s going to find us out here? And more importantly, where am I going to run to? Believe me, I’ve already done the math.”
He scowled at me, and I stood my ground, staring right back. Luckily for me, I couldn’t see his shiny hypnotic eyes through the tinted lenses of his sunglasses. Otherwise, I might’ve backed down. He knew how to melt a woman’s resolve, and it had everything to do with the lure of his cock.
“If you squeal, there’ll be trouble,” he said reluctantly.
“Give me some credit.” I flicked my hair over my shoulder. “I’m a survivor, Chaser, and right now, you’re my best chance.”
“Get inside before I change my mind.”
The automatic doors swished open as we approached, which was quite the technological feat for an out-of-the-way garage.
Inside, it seemed to double as the local store. There were shelves of everyday groceries along with cheap hardware, hunting gear, and a rack of magazines. Lingering by the candy, I eyed a chocolate bar as Chaser talked to the attendant. They were yapping about the weather and the best way to Nashville when a stand of sunglasses caught my eye.
Turning it around, I perused the selection while studying Chaser in the mirror. We’d have to hit a big city sooner or later. If we were headed to the home of country music, then there ought to be a bleeding heart willing to help a damsel in distress.
Picking up a pair of aviator sunglasses with a blue tint on the lenses, I slipped them on. Angling my head from side to side, I studied my reflection and concluded I looked badass.
“Hey,” I said, calling out to Chaser who was still at the counter. “Give me five bucks.”
He turned and glared while
the attendant—a man who seemed around his thirties in age—looked at me with interest.
“Why?” Chaser asked.
“I want these.” I turned my head from side to side so he could see. “How do I look?”
“Put those back,” he barked.
“You look mighty fine, ma’am,” the guy behind the counter said.
“See?” I pointed at the guy and pouted at Chaser. “Five bucks won’t emasculate you.”
Chaser rolled his eyes and handed a bill to the attendant. “The gas and the sunglasses.”
The cash register dinged as the money exchanged hands, and I admired myself in the mirror once more for good measure. A moment later, I was being dragged outside and toward the diner.
“Hey!”
Chaser towed me across the lot, through another door, and along a row of tables before practically shoving me into a booth. He sat opposite, his expression pure thunder. It was a little early for him to have reached his level of pissed off.
A middle-aged waitress eyed us but didn’t try to butt in. Domestic violence must be a thing around here if they didn’t bat an eyelid at Chaser’s rough treatment. Us weird strangers would blow through in an hour, and we would be someone else’s problem before long.
“What’ll it be?” she asked, placing her hand on the table and leaning forward.
“A burger and fries with ketchup on the side.” I rattled off my order. “And a Coke. A big one.”
The waitress raised an eyebrow at Chaser.
“Double it,” he said, not taking his eyes off me.
His gaze was making me uncomfortable, and I watched the waitress walk away and shout our order to the cook. Chaser snorted and leaned back, drawing my attention to the table once more.
“You know, you really need to lay off with the manhandling,” I declared. “It’s giving people the wrong impression.”
He ground his teeth, signaling he was about to blow a gasket.
“You run with bikers, but I don’t think you’re one. Not really,” I added, reaching for a napkin, which I laid over my lap.
“That’s a dangerous observation,” he retorted, glancing out the window.
“Avoiding eye contact,” I mused. “Interesting.”
“You’re the biggest pain in the ass I’ve ever met,” he said with a snarl, leaning over the table. “You’re childish, petulant, and borderline stupid.”
“Petulant? That’s a big word for a tricycle tyrant.” I smiled sweetly even though his words cut.
He was right about all of it. It was beyond time to grow up, and I’d done that the moment I’d run from the Fortitude compound all those years ago. But ever since Chaser showed up… Riling him up was the best entertainment going around. I wasn’t going to make things easy for him. By the time I found a window of opportunity to dump his ass, he would be begging to get rid of me. Win-win.
“The problem is,” he went on, my insult bouncing off his hard outer shell, “all the crap coming out of your mouth is bravado. That’s not who you are.”
I tensed. “How the fuck would you know?”
“Professional experience.”
The sunglasses felt heavy on top of my head. Just when I thought I had him pegged, he said something that threw me off course. He didn’t look like a biker, but it didn’t mean he was or wasn’t. He could’ve come from anywhere.
“I guess we’ve both got things to hide,” he said, studying me.
“So you don’t deny it.”
“You’d be a moron to believe people weren’t lying to you about something. Even when they say they’re being transparent.”
“Humanity sucks,” I said.
“To a point.”
“I’ve never met a single person I would die for.”
He laughed like I’d just told the funniest joke ever and ran his hand over his face.
“What?” I demanded, giving him the biggest dirty look I could muster.
“You’re really self-centered. I’ll have to add that to the list.”
“Excuse me?” My mouth fell open.
“Wake up, princess,” he said, his lip curling. “Most people haven’t found the one. I would go as far to say that kind of shit happens to one in a trillion, and there ain’t a trillion people on this fucked up excuse of a rock. You need to readjust your expectations.”
“And where should I readjust them to? My father? You?”
He shrugged, falling silent as the waitress dumped our order onto the table.
“Enjoy,” she drawled, slamming the two Cokes down so violently some of the soda sloshed onto the table.
“I think she needs to readjust her expectations,” I said the moment she walked away.
“You can never trust someone completely, Sloane,” Chaser said. “That’s just facts.”
“You’re preaching to the choir.” I made a face.
“The only thing you need to believe about me is that I won’t let you die. Whatever else you think doesn’t matter.”
I stared at him, the smell of the cooked food making my stomach growl. His head tilted slightly to the side, signaling he was waiting. For what, who the fuck knew?
He wouldn’t let me die? I wasn’t sure if I should flip him the bird or throw him a parade. This push and pull we had going on was wearing thin. One second he wasn’t so bad, and then he shoved everything away with his stellar personality. He was real top-shelf material. I knew I wasn’t helping the situation, but I wasn’t required to like the guy even though my vagina was lusting after his body.
“If you’re waiting for some kind of epiphany from me, you’re not getting one,” I said. Picking up my burger, I took a bite that sent sauce up my face and lettuce hanging out my mouth and promptly smiled at him. “Bon appétit.”
Chapter 8
Chaser
I refused to believe Sloane was that childish.
She was putting together an escape plan that much was clear. Annoy the hell out of me, steal her stuff back, then leg it into a crowd, hoping I would be glad to see the back of her infuriating ass and give her a head start.
That was how my targets usually did it, but too bad I always found them. After that, things usually became worse…for them, not me.
We were at yet another motel deep in the backwater of some asshole state in the middle of the country.
It was getting worse. The need to stick my cock in Sloane’s pussy. I wasn’t sure if it was because she was so Goddamn infuriating, or I was attracted to her.
But she was still the boss’s precious daughter, and she was still off-limits to the likes of me. A grunt, a nobody, cannon fodder on the front lines of a criminal blood feud.
Don’t disappoint me, Chaser. You know what happens when you do.
I squeezed my eyes shut at the memory. One shot is all it took to destroy someone’s life. One shot to bind them to you forever.
Either Sloane knew what she was talking about or she’d made a lucky guess. I wasn’t a biker, not really. I ran with Fortitude because I owed them. Simple as that.
Death begat death, and revenge begat revenge. Round and round it went, and it never stopped.
In the end, it wasn’t worth it. It fixed nothing.
It didn’t bring her back, and now I was stuck, and it wasn’t just in a shitty motel room with the daughter of the man who’d tricked me into shitting my life down the toilet… No, that part was just the icing. The cake… Fuck, it was the endless servitude caused by a debt that would never be repaid. A life for a life.
Hindsight was a brutal kick in the balls.
Narrowing my eyes at the sight before me, I closed the bathroom door with a bang.
Sloane was in the top she liked to wear to bed, reading a book that looked more like a brick than anything else. Her feet were bare and her legs…they were long as fuck and appeared as if they hadn’t seen direct sunlight in months.
Rubbing my damp hair with a threadbare towel, I tossed it over the back of a chair. The shower wasn’t cold by choice, but it
had helped.
“What’s that?” I asked, unable to hold onto my curiosity.
“It’s a book,” she retorted. “You know, with the pages and the words and stuff.”
“Hilarious.”
Stepping past her, I grabbed the book and tore it from her grasp. She kicked up a stink as I turned it over in my hands. Fuck, it weighed a ton. Explained why her bag killed my back every time I lifted it from the trunk.
“Theory and Methods in Political Science,” I read aloud. “What the fuck is this for?”
“I’m studying to get my college degree,” she said, snatching the book back. “I’m not giving up on it just because you kidnapped me.”
“I wouldn’t call it kidnapping,” I said, the word college the last thing I was expecting her to say. It was another clue to the interior she was hiding underneath all that childish sass.
“You’re forcing me to stay, so it’s pretty fucking close.”
Snorting, I glanced at the bright yellow marker in her hand.
“What do you want that book for anyway?” I went on. “You want to be a politician?”
She shrugged.
“You’ve got the mouth for it.” I tossed the book onto the bed.
She blew me a kiss, which negated the cold shower.
“I don’t know what I want to be,” she said, rolling her eyes. “But I don’t want to be dumb doing whatever it is.”
I raised an eyebrow, my gaze dropping to the book again. That was a mystery I wasn’t sure I wanted to unravel.
Leaving her to her studies, or whatever she wanted to call it, I sat at the table and turned on the television. Scrolling through the channels looking for a local news station, I couldn’t help glancing at her again.
Her head was buried in her book, the marker squeaking across the page. If what she’d said was true, then her father had tried to whore her out like a common prostitute and had likely raised his hand to her when she’d said no. As a result, she didn’t trust or believe other people had her best interests at heart, but here she was still trying to invest in her future with that stupid book.