Ride Hard

by Amity Cross

  He didn’t speak as he closed himself in the cubicle. Turning my head, I realized his bag was still lying open on the seat next to me, his belongings on show. Inside, I could see his wallet, gun, spare ammo, and my ziplock bag of money. All the things I wanted to steal from him way back at the beginning of our fucked up road trip. They were just lying there, ripe for the picking.

  Glancing at the door, I knew only a handful of inches separated me from Chaser. It made the thought of rifling through his things even more exhilarating.

  Reaching out, I picked up his wallet and ran my fingers over the soft leather square. After all we’d been through, he finally trusted me, which made what I was about to do all that much more terrible. I could’ve trusted him in return and told him how I felt, but there were just too many secrets he was holding back from me.

  So I opened his wallet.

  Inside were a few twenty-dollar bills and the usual bits and pieces. There was a credit card with the name Gunnar Mason and a matching Californian driver’s license. Tilting the card back and forth, I studied the photo. It wasn’t half bad, the lucky bastard. The address was likely a fake one, so I didn’t pay too much attention. It was starting to bother me that I didn’t know Chaser’s real name until now. It felt like he’d been touting a lie this entire time, but did I have any right to be pissed about it? I knew what he was and fell for him despite it.

  Checking his wallet again, a piece of paper tucked into one of the card slots caught my eye, and I pulled it out. Turning it over, I froze.

  It was a photograph of a woman. A beautiful woman with long brown hair, pale skin, and big green eyes. She couldn’t be a day over twenty-five—the same age as me. She was sitting on a stone fence with the ocean behind her, the sky a brilliant shade of blue, and smiling at whoever was holding the camera. There was this sweet and wholesome look about her that didn’t fit Chaser at all.

  Who was she? She was obviously someone special to him. Otherwise, why carry her picture everywhere?

  Jealousy burned in my gut, and I scowled. Maybe it was his secret girlfriend, and she was the real reason things had never quite changed between us. Whoever she was, I didn’t like her.

  The bathroom door opened, and I jumped, my heart skipping a beat. Chaser’s gaze fell to the wallet in my lap and then to the photograph in my hands.

  “Get a good look?” he snarled.

  I swallowed hard and held up the photo. “Who is she?”

  Chaser’s expression was pure anger, and for a split second, I faltered. Then he said the last thing I was expecting.

  “She’s my wife.”

  Everything fell away, and my hands trembled, the photograph shaking. It was as if my body was tearing apart, my heart barely holding on. The world shook, and the foundations of everything I believed in shattered.

  Destruction only took a second after all.

  His…wife? My gaze fell to his hand. He didn’t wear a ring, and there wasn’t a mark… There wouldn’t be, though, would there?

  At the beginning of our road trip nightmare, Chaser and I had sat at that diner and argued about trust and death. I’d found no one I would die for, not until I’d shot that guy by the side of the road before he could kill Chaser. Not until his life was on the line.

  At that moment, I knew I would die for him because that was what you did for those you truly loved.

  Back then, at that diner, he’d told me I was naïve, but now I saw I’d fallen for just another trick. One of the oldest in the book. Give a girl a little cock, and she would believe anything. She would even believe she was in love if you could give her a half-decent orgasm. She would give her life to save your selfish ass.

  It was the ultimate manipulation.

  “You did,” I said. “You found someone you’d die for.”

  And it wasn’t me. It was the most selfish thing I could’ve thought at that moment, but it hurt. I would never have Chaser like he had her. I was nothing to him. After everything we’d shared, after everything we’d been through, I was nothing to him.

  I’d always been the package he was ordered to deliver to Fortitude.

  I was no one.

  “You said… You said there wasn’t any point hiding shit anymore,” I began, my voice trembling. “You were never going to help me, were you?”

  “You know I can’t.”

  “Why?”

  “Because of her.” He snatched the photo out of my hands and shoved it into his jeans’ pocket.

  His admission only drove another hot pincer into my heart, and I glanced away before he could see my welling tears.

  “I told you Fortitude helped me with something big,” he went on, his voice thin. “That I’m indebted to them for life. They—”

  “I don’t need to hear it,” I snapped.

  “You do.”

  “You’re dead to me.” I seethed. “Dead.”

  “That’s what they did to her,” he said, sitting beside me.

  “Stop it.” I leaned my forehead against the window, the cool glass numbing my skin.

  Chaser growled and grasped my arm. Wrenching me toward him, I let out a cry as I hit his chest. His gaze caught mine and wouldn’t let go.

  “Let me go.”

  I didn’t want to hear the words come from his mouth. I didn’t want to hear him say how he loved another woman. Alive or dead, it didn’t matter. He loved someone enough to marry them and throw away his entire life for revenge. How could he love me? I was nobody compared to what he was doing for her.

  “Those men who are after you?” he continued, his expression pure thunder. “They’re the same men who took her from me. History will not repeat, Sloane. You hear me? I won’t let it.”

  I froze, trying to make sense of this whole fucked up mess. His wife had been murdered by the same men who were trying to kill me. Was that why he cared? I was his redemption? His second fucking chance? This had nothing to do with love and had everything to do with closure.

  I was a pawn. Always had been.

  “I made a deal with Fortitude,” he said. “They help me get revenge, and in exchange…”

  I shook my head and felt a black hole of sadness open up inside me. “You haven’t got it yet.”

  He didn’t reply. He just stared at me, his forehead creasing.

  “I should never have let you touch me.” I snarled, wrenching out of his grasp. He looked as if he’d been slapped, and it only made my rage intensify. “You piece of shit. You used me for sex. You used me just like I was…” My voice broke, and I turned away from him, focusing on the landscape rushing past outside the window. “You’re just like all the men I ran from when I left Fortitude. You’re just like my father. Small, manipulative, sadistic, and power hungry. I killed a man for you.”

  “Sloane.”

  I felt his hand on my shoulder, and I shook him off with a violent jerk. “Don’t touch me. You never get to do that again, understand?”

  “No, you don’t understand.”

  “You don’t get to command me,” I said with a snarl, rising to my feet. “I am not yours! I don’t belong to you, Chaser. I understand plenty. I’m the Band-Aid on a festering wound. Nothing more, nothing less. You just couldn’t help yourself to a little pussy to soothe the ache left behind by your dead fucking wife!”

  “Shut your fucking mouth.” He snarled, standing before me.

  In the small space, we had no room to move, so we were right up in each other’s faces, an inch apart. Instead of falling into his arms and him kissing me, we were on the verge of tearing each other apart. If only we’d gone this way that day on the side of the road when we’d first kissed. If only we’d leaned a little more toward hate than love.

  If only…

  “I’m such a fool…” I said, my gaze searching his. “Never again.”

  It was a promise, a threat, a motherfucking contract written in blood.

  Never. Again.

  Chapter 26

  Sloane

  I was back at square one
.

  Chaser was my kidnapper, and I was nothing but cargo. It only meant one thing.

  I had to get away from him before we reached Los Angeles because by then, it would be too late to do anything. This train and one of its few stops along the line was my only chance.

  I’d curled up in the corner of the seat by the window to put as much distance between us as I could. The size of the room wasn’t helping. Chaser sat opposite, his gaze stuck on me like superglue.

  I was doing my best to ignore him, but my body wouldn’t cooperate. I squirmed, my panties dampening with every dirty thought that surfaced in my mind.

  Our first desperate fuck. Five minutes of pure bliss, slapping together, his cock filling my pussy, his painful touch, my explosive orgasm. Chaser bending me over the table and taking me from behind. His palm striking my bare ass, his tongue laving my nipples, his mouth on my pussy. His fingers up me in that lake, my mouth around his dick, swallowing his cum.

  So I thought about his secret, dead wife and relished when the image of her face turned off my sex drive for good.

  Liar, murderer, piece of shit, good for nothing, alpha asshole, dog for hire.

  Finally, his incessant staring got the better of me.

  “Don’t fucking look at me,” I snapped, throwing the first thing that my hand fell on.

  The cell phone smacked him in the chest, and he smirked as he put it back into my bag on the seat beside me. He leaned close, making a point of brushing against my leg.

  “Don’t touch me, either.”

  “Don’t lie to me, Sloane,” he murmured, kneeling before me.

  “That’s fucking rich coming from you.”

  “I never owed you anything.” His palms came to rest on my knees.

  We stared at one another, a million insults rolling around in my mind. I could argue he owed me everything the moment he stuck his cock in me, but that would be a lie. I gave him permission to fuck me. A fuck didn’t equate to owing someone a life story.

  I hated him because he made me fall in love, and then he forgot to mention his dead wife, who he sold his life to Fortitude to avenge. He took me for a ride, literally.

  “I’m hungry,” I said, blurting out something before I punched him in the face.

  “I’ll go to the dining car,” he said, rising to his feet. “Don’t let anyone else in.”

  I narrowed my eyes and turned my attention out the window to the desert rolling past the train.

  He grunted, then opened the door. A moment later, it slammed closed, signaling he’d gone.

  The tiny room became a lot larger in his absence, and I breathed deeply. It was the first time I’d been truly alone since he’d taken me away. It was an exhilarating feeling.

  Sitting up, I went for his bag. Unzipping the black leather duffle, I took out my money and the extra ammo. His gun wasn’t there. He’d taken it with him to get coffee. I hoped they’d be happy together.

  Grabbing my own bag, I tipped out the contents and discarded anything I didn’t need. I dumped my laptop, the cell phone we’d bought from the service station back in Tucumcari, and half my toiletries and clothes. Packing away my money and ammo, I shouldered the bag and opened the door.

  Peering out into the narrow hallway, I found it was empty.

  I had no idea how far it was until the next stop, but I wouldn’t have another chance. Chaser wouldn’t let me out of his sight once he got back, so this was it. I had to give him the slip on the train until it came into a station.

  Movement caught my eye, and I jumped. Seeing it was only a conductor, I straightened up and stepped into the hallway. The man smiled when he saw me, and it put my fluttering heart at ease some.

  “Excuse me,” I called out. “Could you tell me what the next stop is?”

  “The next stop is Winslow, Arizona,” the conductor replied. “It’s about another half an hour.”

  “Thanks. Where’s the cafe car?”

  “Six cars to your right,” the man said with a nod.

  I smiled and darted down the stairs. Once the train stopped, I had to be ready to jump off and melt into the crowd. Chaser was a master at hunting people down, or so he said, so this time, I had to be better at hiding my tracks.

  Downstairs, there was another toilet and a large luggage storage area packed full of suitcases and bags. Not seeing a way through to the next car, I went back upstairs. The conductor had moved on, so the way was empty. Turning left, I pushed through to the next carriage, which looked exactly the same as the one I’d been in.

  Heading downstairs, the train lurched, making me stumble. I fell the last two steps and caught myself at the last second, my fingers grasping the railing. My bag fell to the ground with a thud, and I cursed.

  “Whoa there, miss,” a voice said. Hands clamped on my shoulders, and I instinctively jerked away.

  Raising my head, I gasped and fell back against the wall, the railing pressing into the small of my back. All I saw was ginger hair.

  “Remember me, bitch?” the man snarled.

  Pube Face.

  I went for my gun, but my fingers scraped the empty place where I should’ve put it before leaving the room. My heart skipped a beat, and I twisted away, attempting to run back up the stairs.

  Pube Face grabbed my ankle and pulled hard. I fell on my face, jarring my jaw on the stairs as he dragged me back down.

  “Where do you think you’re going, whore?”

  I opened my mouth to scream, but one his hand clamped over my lips as the other twisted in my hair. He dragged me up and held me against his body. Pressing his groin into my hip, he laughed.

  “I told you, didn’t I? You’re going to die one way or another, bitch, and it’ll be with my cock in you.”

  “Let her go,” an unfamiliar voice drawled.

  A surge of hope flared inside me, and I struggled against Pube Face’s hold. Searching for the source of the mysterious stranger, my gaze met a pair of cold, blue eyes. It was the conductor.

  In that moment I knew. This was a trap.

  The man smirked, then nodded down the hall.

  “Get her inside,” he said. “I won’t ask again, Bailey.”

  I screamed as I realized I was completely fucked, but the sound was muffled. No one was going to hear me. No one at all.

  Pube Face, aka Bailey, hauled me to my feet, cursing under his breath as he dragged me down the narrow hall and into a room at the end.

  It was much larger than what Chaser and I’d had, but I wasn’t interested in the decor. Once I’d been hauled inside, the blue-eyed man closed the door and flipped the lock. My bag was in his hands, and my gaze went to it. Why the fuck did I leave my gun in there?

  Bailey let me go, shoving me roughly into the seat. My ass was in the air, and he slapped it, much to his amusement. I was flipped over and forced to look at him and it was a wonder I didn’t throw up into his ugly fucking face.

  Fear and a mixture of bile rose in the back of my throat, and it was all I could do to stop terror from overcoming me. If there was a way to fight back, then I had to.

  When Chaser came back from the dining car, he would see I was gone and come looking. Wouldn’t he?

  My gaze flickered to the door.

  “What does he call himself these days?” Blue Eyes asked, his lips curving. “Chaser?”

  “Fucking stupid name, if you ask me,” Bailey said.

  “I wasn’t asking you,” the other man snapped.

  “You know Chaser…” I muttered. Of course, they did. The men who’d rammed us off the road knew him by name.

  Why did I take him at face value? Why didn’t I press him about it? Because I was too damn infatuated with him. I was too desperate to fall in love to see the big picture. I should’ve focused on how I was going to survive on my own rather than latch onto a man who never cared.

  I was such an idiot, and now I was in the hands of the enemy.

  “He got what was coming to him,” Bailey said with a smirk, adjusting his cock as h
e gawped at me. “Eye for an eye.”

  I went to stand up, my lip curling in a snarl, but Blue Eyes pushed me back down.

  “There’s no getting out of this, Betty,” he said calmly. “Your father fucked with us, Gunnar screwed us over, and now we have to take payment. This is for their own good even if you can’t see it. Six men.” He counted them on his fingers. “It was going to be a clean death, but the repayments just gained a lot of interest.” He eyed me, his gaze raking over my body, taking in every bump and curve. “We’re not the kind of men who show mercy. Mercy is not in our vocabulary. Violence, pain, blood, death, murder… Those are words we understand.”

  I tensed, my throat constricting. Why weren’t they finishing me off? Why weren’t they putting a bullet in my head and throwing my limp body off the train? Chaser wasn’t coming—they’d made that clear. Which meant…

  Chaser was dead.

  Chaser was dead.

  I swallowed a wail of despair. What was the point? I could run from him all I wanted, but it would never erase how I felt about him. His secrets were hung up for all to see, his dead wife was more than out there, and now I was locked in a room with a rapist and a career killer, and he was dead. There was no way out. Not this time.

  There was nothing left.

  “Just end it,” I managed to croak out.

  Blue Eyes smirked, and Bailey laughed as he reached out and grasped my breast. Jerking away, I kicked out, but he only grabbed my ankle and forced my legs apart.

  “We have unfinished business, you and me,” he drawled. “Balls deep, bitch.”

  He raised his hand and struck me. I fell back into the seat, my cheek throbbing.

  “We’ve got twenty minutes,” Blue Eyes said.

  “Give me ten.”

  “No.”

  “C’mon, just let me finger her a little.”

  Blue Eyes glared at him in warning.

  Chaser… Fuck, he was so right. I was too stupid to live.

  “Once we leave the train, we’ve got a long road back to the Strip,” Blue Eyes said. “Once we’re there, it’s open season.”

  Bailey’s eyes lit up, and he grasped his cock through his jeans. “Yeehaw!”