by Amity Cross
“Technically it is, you know.” I pouted.
“Sloane.”
“So we’re screwed?” I turned, watching the dark-colored car loom behind us.
“Slightly.”
“That’s just great. Who are these guys?”
“Not the time to ask, Sloane.”
I felt the car slow, and my heart jackhammered in my chest.
“What are you doing?” I demanded.
“They’re gaining,” he replied. “They’re making their move.”
“Shit.” I turned and recoiled as I saw the black car closing the gap fast. “Chaser, I don’t like this…”
“Stay calm, and do what I say,” he commanded. “They’re coming up fast.”
Right now, I didn’t mind his alpha asshole mode. If it got us out of this alive, then he could turn the dial right up to a million if he wanted.
“Hold on,” Chaser exclaimed.
The car lurched forward as we were rammed from behind. My head snapped forward, and I jammed my palms on the dash to steady myself.
“Tighten your seat belt, and cross your arms over your chest,” Chaser commanded. “If we roll, it’ll protect you.”
I swallowed hard and did as he said, my hands shaking.
“Chaser…” I said warily.
“It’ll be okay,” he murmured, glancing in the mirror. “It’ll be okay.”
I sucked in a sharp breath and held on for dear life, putting all my trust in Chaser. The man I wanted. I’d used the word love a few times in the confines of my own thoughts but never out loud. Did I want to say it? Did I want him to know it? Was love what I really felt for him?
It was so not the time for an existential crisis.
Movement caught my gaze, and I looked past Chaser, right into the eyes of a man in the other car. They’d flanked us, and now they were right there, and the man in the passenger seat was aiming a gun at us out the open window.
“Down!” Chaser roared.
I slid down in the seat, screaming as the driver’s side window shattered. We swerved to the side as the black car sideswiped us, scraping metal jarring my ears. Chaser wrenched the wheel, trying to break away, then he jammed his foot on the brake before accelerating hard.
I flew forward, the glowing red taillights of the black car filling my vision as I was flung backward. Squealing tires signaled the other car had braked, and before Chaser could correct our forward motion, they clipped us.
The nose of the car went up in the air, and we were spinning. I screamed, unable to hold onto my terror.
We landed on the roof, and the windscreen cracked and shattered as we continued to roll. I tightened my grip around my body and tried to ride it out, but I felt stinging pain erupt all over my body.
Then...
Groaning, I lifted my head off the ground, my vision blurring as the world came back into focus. Overhead, the sky was streaked with fire and blood. The sun was setting.
How did I get here?
In the distance, I could see the car lying beside the highway. It was a hunk of twisted and broken metal, and a way behind it was the black car that’d rammed us.
I must’ve lost consciousness when the car flipped because I didn’t remember being flung out the window at all.
Smoke was rising from the twisted wreck, and the engine was hissing and clicking in the silence. Where was Chaser? He couldn’t be dead. I wouldn’t let him die.
My head throbbed, and I rolled over with a groan. Red dirt stuck to my arms and coated my T-shirt. Spitting, I cleared the grit from my mouth. Nothing felt broken, but that didn’t mean much. I could be bleeding internally and I wouldn’t know because the adrenaline and shock would mask the symptoms. At least I’d learned something from binge watching all those doctor dramas on television.
“It’s time to give her up, Gunnar.”
I paused as a gravelly voice echoed across the distance. Raising my head as my faculties returned, I realized I’d been flung a fair distance from the car. About seventy feet, but I couldn’t be sure. It was far enough they hadn’t found me yet, and I was good with that. I still had a chance.
I couldn’t see anyone on the road or in the brush either, which meant they must have been standing on the other side of the wreck.
The gun. I knew Chaser had put it in the glove compartment after we’d first slept together. He’d trusted me then, knowing I was tied to him. Did he, though? Did he realize how deep my feelings ran?
Shaking my head, I pushed to my knees and crawled toward the car. He either gave a crap or he was using me for sex. Either way, knowing his true intentions wouldn’t help me now. I was screwed if I didn’t do something.
Chaser was either dead or eyeballs deep in shit. No Chaser meant they would come looking for me, and I didn’t fancy a nighttime hunt across the wilds of Texas.
Crawling toward the car, my gaze darted around, looking for signs of the mystery men. Nothing stirred, so I kept going.
My head throbbed with a headache to end all headaches. Asphalt dug into my palms. I’d made it to the road unseen. Through the broken window of the car that had taken us three-quarters of the way across the country, I spied the glove compartment. It was within reach. All I had to do was…
Two men were on the other side of the wreck, and I hesitated.
Chaser was on his knees, his head lowered. An unknown man was standing over him, and the gun in his hand was pointed at Chaser’s temple.
My heart twisted, and I forgot all about my headache.
Reaching into the car, I popped open the glove compartment, wincing as the sound echoed. There was a rattle as whatever was inside scraped across plastic.
“I won’t ask again,” the man said. “Where’s the girl?”
“Woman,” Chaser replied, his voice rasping. “She’s a woman.”
“A debt has to be paid, Gunnar. If you deny us now, I wonder how long it will take for Fortitude to find out what’s really going on here. How long will it be before you die?”
“Not long at all,” Chaser declared. “You’ll have to shoot me before you take me alive, and you’ll especially have to shoot me before you lay a single finger on her.”
Holding my breath, I picked up the gun and pulled my hand back through the broken window. Who the fuck was Gunnar?
Checking the magazine, I counted my lucky stars it was full and edged away from the wreck.
How was I going to do this? The man’s finger was on the trigger, which meant if I shot at him, he could pull it and kill Chaser. Even if I hit the guy, he could still fire. I saw no other choice.
I had to kill him before…but how? Chaser was on his knees, which meant I had to go for the headshot or at least the torso. If the man didn’t drop on the first shot, I had to be prepared to fire again. No hesitation.
God, help me, I thought to myself.
Rising from behind the car, I aimed at the man and fired. A boom echoed across the desert, and I stumbled back a step as I failed to absorb the kickback through my arm and shoulder.
The man stumbled and clutched his shoulder, turning toward me with a grunt.
“Surprise, asshole,” I declared.
I recovered, adrenaline searing through my veins and stabbing me in the heart. I fired again, and this time, the bullet found its mark.
The man’s head splattered like a soft watermelon as the bullet tore through him, and I almost gagged as he fell back onto the asphalt. Blood pooled beneath him, the puddle spreading thick and fast underneath his limp body. Thick like cranberry sauce.
Chaser was right when he said to close your eyes and mouth. I was only now understanding he was always right about matters of life and murder.
“Sloane.”
I jumped as I felt Chaser’s hand curl around mine. He untangled my trembling hand from the gun and clicked the safety on, then he turned me away from the road and the spreading death.
“We have to be careful,” I muttered. “There could be more of them.”
“The
re were two,” he replied. “I got the other one.”
I stared at him, shock setting in.
“Are you okay?” His eyes sparkled in the twilight, and I was almost fooled by the panic I saw in them.
“I was thrown from the car…” I glanced over his shoulder at the desert beyond.
Chaser’s hands poked and prodded at me, massaging my arms and ribs, searching for broken bones. When he pressed his palms against my stomach, I shoved him away.
“Don’t.”
“Sloane, I need to check for broken bones.”
“I just killed a man…” I trembled.
“I know.”
I felt his gaze on me, but I couldn’t meet it. Killing was second nature to him—he pulled the trigger and had zero regrets after—but for me?
“I…”
Chaser stepped forward and wrapped his arms around me, embracing my body against his. He’d never comforted me. Never.
“You saved my life,” he whispered into my hair. “No one’s ever done that before. No one at all.”
Chapter 23
Chaser
“What do you mean, no one’s ever saved your life before?”
I glanced over my shoulder to where Sloane was sitting beside the road. There was a scrape on her forehead, but there weren’t any other noticeable injuries on her.
I was rifling through the black sedan, trying to find anything that would help, but I wasn’t having much luck. Two tires were blown out, the back axle was cracked, and the fuel tank had a bullet hole in it. Luckily, it hadn’t blown the car up.
We weren’t driving it anywhere.
I found nothing useful on the bodies, either. These assholes had really upped their faceless men routine. Their fingerprints had been burned off. That was commitment.
“Chaser?”
I narrowed my eyes and snatched the tire iron out of the trunk.
“Aren’t you worried another car will find us?” she asked, changing tactics. “If someone finds us with those bodies, we’re screwed.”
Striding over to the twisted wreck that used to be my car, I shoved the end of the tire iron under the lip of the trunk and heaved. Metal groaned, then gave way as it opened. Our bags tumbled out and collided with the road, the sound of something smashing causing Sloane to scramble to her feet.
“That better not be my laptop,” she exclaimed.
I tossed Sloane her bag, and it landed at her feet with a thud.
“If you’ve got a sweater in there, you’d better put it on,” I commanded. “It gets cold out here at night.”
She rifled through her bag, wailing when she saw the screen of her laptop was shattered. I narrowed my eyes but said nothing. This was her way of coping after she’d blown that guy’s head off. It wasn’t easy killing a man, and even though Sloane was one tough woman, nothing was more confronting than taking a life.
Watching her take out a cardigan, I picked up my own bag and slung it over my shoulder, making sure the gun I’d taken from the heavies was tucked in the waistband of my jeans. When Sloane stood, I handed her back her gun.
“I…” she began, staring at my outstretched hand.
“Take it,” I said. “You wanted it a week ago, so here it is.”
“I don’t think…”
“You could’ve shot me,” I declared. “But you didn’t.”
She pursed her lips and stared at the gun. After a moment, she reached out and took it.
“It’s a hard thing,” I whispered. “The first time.”
“Hopefully, the last,” she muttered before setting out down the road.
If she were right about her father’s intentions, then it would be the first of many. If she wanted to protect herself from what was coming, then she couldn’t hesitate.
Watching her walk away from the wreck and the bodies, I sighed.
“If I didn’t feel like hurling, I might like it out here,” she declared, her voice loud in the silence.
“Are you feeling sick?” I asked, catching up to her.
Stopping, I grasped her arm. She didn’t fight me when I placed my palm against her forehead. She was a little warm.
“It’s nothing.”
“You feel warm.”
“If I were going to die from internal bleeding, I would already be dead,” she stated. “And if I broke any bones, I’d feel it by now. I got lucky.”
I sensed she was complaining about other things to avoid talking about the skull explosion. Still, I had to make sure she didn’t die of some unknown injury from the accident. She was right about one thing. We were lucky as hell to get out of that with only minor bumps and scratches.
“You killed him to survive. After he killed me, he would’ve come after you.”
“I know.” She glanced up at the sky. “But I still took a life.”
A melancholy howl echoed across the vast landscape, and she stiffened.
“What’s that?” she asked, her head twisting toward the noise.
“Coyote.”
She shivered and looked around warily at the landscape. She wasn’t much of a nature buff, that was for sure.
“Keep walking,” I commanded. “The sooner we find civilization, the sooner we’re back on the road.”
There was no reply, and we walked in silence as the sun went down.
“He called you Gunnar,” she said after a while. “Why?”
Sloane could never leave things unsaid for too long. How much had she heard before she shot that guy? Best to play it by ear and not give too much away. My shit wasn’t her business or her burden to carry. She had enough of her own problems to worry about.
“Because that’s my name,” I said after a pause.
“That’s your real name?”
“You think my mamma called me Chaser?” I asked, raising my eyebrow.
“No.”
“Chaser is a name I took to help conceal my identity.”
“So why are you telling me this now?”
She stopped walking, and I turned, peering at her in the dark. Her long hair was tangled and strewn with dirt, the knees of her jeans were ripped open, the toes of her boots were scuffed, but she was still beautiful. The sight of her tore my dead heart in two.
“It’s no use hiding shit anymore,” I replied.
“Why?”
“You’re full of so many annoying fucking questions.” I rolled my eyes.
“You don’t like talking very much.” And Sloane loved to fill the peaceful silences with boring shit that drove me insane.
“What gave me away?”
“I still want to run away with you, you know.”
I grunted and started walking. A moment later, the sound of her footsteps caught up to me.
“Do you think they were watching us back at the lake?” she asked.
“Possibly.”
She shivered. “Perverts.”
At least we gave them a show. Maybe they fucked each other up the ass while they watched her suck my dick. Maybe that was why they didn’t put bullets in our heads while I fingered Sloane in the lake.
“Are we going to sleep out here?”
I glanced up at the moon and shrugged. “Maybe.”
“But we’ve got nothing to make a fire, and there are coyotes out there…” On cue, another howl echoed through the night.
“It’s about fifteen miles to the nearest town,” I said. “So about five hours.”
“How do you know that?” She screwed up her face. “Are you a fucking medium now?”
“No.” I pointed to the sign that was looming out of the darkening twilight. “It’s written right there.”
Sloane scowled, which only caused me to laugh.
“Don’t laugh at me,” she complained. “Five hours walk? Fuck that shit.”
Ignoring her, I kept walking, focusing on the last smear of sunlight on the horizon. Forever moving east… Straight into the lion’s den.
It didn’t take a genius to know we took over five hours to cover the dista
nce to the smallest town in America.
Sloane dragged her feet the entire way, and it was closing in on two a.m. by the time civilization came into view. It didn’t help that no cars had passed us, either. Hitching a ride would’ve been a welcome luxury, but we would have had a lot of explaining to do about the mess we’d left behind.
Nothing stirred, so we spent the rest of the night on the stoop of the local post office—a rundown building in the middle of a park of dead trees and rusted play equipment—and waited for something to move.
Sloane fell asleep instantly, so I kept watch, passing the time watching the sky for UFOs until the sun rose.
“Excuse me? Sir?”
My eyes snapped open, and I started as I realized I’d drifted off. Idiot.
“Sir?” the voice asked again.
Looking up into the face of a confused middle-aged woman, I rubbed my eyes, and Sloane stirred beside me.
“Ma’am?” I rose to my feet, dusting off my jeans as I went. “I’m sorry to disturb you. We ran into some trouble on the road during the night and—”
“You broke down?” she asked, interrupting me.
I gave her the once-over, noting the United States Postal Service emblem on her blouse and the wiry silver hair on her head. She had a no-nonsense look about her.
“Yes. We ran off the road about fifteen miles back. Blew two tires and rolled.”
The woman glanced at Sloane, who’d remained silent, thank fuck.
“Lucky you got out of that, then,” she said, stepping around us and unlocking the door. “No one bothers us out here much anymore. If you were trapped, no one would’ve found you anytime soon.”
“That explains why we saw no one on the walk here.”
The woman nodded. “It won’t be long until the post stops, then this place will really die. Hear that?” I frowned as she paused. “That silence is the death rattle.”
Sloane shot me a look and circled her finger around her temple, signaling she thought the woman was batshit crazy. Luckily, the woman didn’t notice the gesture and let us into the post office.
“May we trouble you to use your phone?” I asked.
“Sure thing. I don’t see why not. It’s out back.” She gestured for me to follow as Sloane lingered in the shop. Rounding the counter, the woman opened the door, turned on the lights, and nodded toward the desk. “Help yourself.”