Page 22 of Nitro

“That’s yours?” I blurt.

“Yeah. Must have lost it in here the other night. It’s hard to keep track of anything in this mess, but Nitro’s worth it. He’s an animal.” She leaves, slamming the door behind her.

My mouth’s hanging open, but what did I expect? Of course, Nitro’s sleeping with her. He doesn’t have an old lady. He’s entitled to screw anyone he wants. But the thought of him with Crystal is so revolting that my breakfast threatens to come up.

Maybe she’s the type of girl he’s really interested in. She’s wild. She’d probably do anything in bed. Girls like her don’t hold back. I could never compete with someone like that.

The realization is soul-crushing. Nina and Julia are dead wrong about Nitro having a crush on me. He’d never want someone as plain and boring as me when he could have a wild girl like Crystal. I wish that weren’t true, but it clearly is. Otherwise, why would her bra be in his room? Maybe they’ve even had sex in this bed recently.

“Ew, gross.” I slide out of bed and study the sheets for telltale stains.

After confirming they’re clean, I get back under the covers. I can’t think about Nitro anymore. Nothing will ever come of it anyway. Instead, I have to get through this divorce. When that’sover, I’ll have to find somewhere else to live because there’s no way I’m staying here. I couldn’t bear to watch Crystal and Nitro together. It would hurt too much.

While I’m here, he’s off limits. I need to start controlling my fantasies about him too. They fuel the fire and give me hope where there is none. It’s just one more stupid thing that I do. When it comes to men, I’m dumb. I don’t know how to pick the good ones. Until I figure that out, it’s better I stay single once I’m divorced. I shouldn’t even be thinking about any of this while I’m still married. The whole situation is so exhausting. I just want it all to be over. But it’s not. It won’t be for at least a few more months.

Chapter 7: Nitro

My Harley-Davidson Street Bob 114 rumbles beneath me as I race toward the strip club. Figures Polson would be holed up in a place like that. He’s always worn a mask of respectability while hiding his true self behind it. He’s good too. If I’d known how much he was controlling Holly, I would have stepped in a long time ago. At least now I know for sure he’s a piece of shit that needs to be dealt with once and for all.

When I arrive at The Wet Beaver, I’m greeted by a single-story, long brick building with blacked-out windows. A partially lit neon cartoon beaver dances on a flickering pole over the entrance. It’s the kind of place that caters to losers and drunks. Two guys stumble out into the parking lot. They gawk at my fire engine red bike. I park at the end of a row of other less flashy bikes. I glare at the drunks until they move on.

None of the guys from the club are here yet, but I spot Polson’s slick black truck parked between two long-haul trailers. I know it’s his ride because of the caduceus sticker on the rear window. It’s two snakes wrapped around a staff with wings at the top. The wings represent Hermes or Mercury, which is funny because Hermes is also the Greek god who protects thieves and liars. Seems appropriate for Polson. He’s a thief because he stole years of Holly’s life, and he’s a liar because he made her think it was all her fault. He’s going to pay for what he did. There isn’t a god in the world that can save him once I get a hold of him.

I kick the stand down and get off the bike. I put my helmet on the seat and glance back toward the highway. The distant roar of Harleys draws my attention. The guys are close enough. They’ll be here in a couple of minutes to either back me up or help me clean up the mess I’m about to make.

The burly ginger bouncer at the door blocks my path. His meaty arms cross over his huge chest. He glares up at me. “You look like a man ready for trouble.”

“Just here to see some titties.” I give him a salacious smirk.

“Hope that’s all you’re here for.” He moves back just enough to allow me to pass. “You start any shit and you’ll be answering to me.”

“Whatever,” I mutter under my breath.

Smoke forms a second ceiling below the already low-slung one. Purple neon adds little light to the dim place. A hall-of-fame wall of photos of famous strippers decorates one black wall. Along another, mirrors reflect the space to make it look infinitely bigger than it is. A girl clad in a gold bikini waits at the bottom of a small set of stairs. When the dancer on stage finishes crawling around collecting one-dollar bills, she gracefully walks down the steps. She shoulder-checks the other girl so subtly that anyone not paying attention would miss it. I’m not surprised. These cats have claws.

The new girl on stage looks worse for the wear. She’s probably in her late twenties, which is ancient in stripper years. She’s got the skin of a ten-pack-a-day smoker and matching yellow teeth. Her glassy gaze means she’s on something. Probably meth. It’s a problem around here, so I’d be more surprised if she wasn’t on it.

I spot Polson at the bar. He’s watching the dancer’s reflection in the mirror behind the liquor bottles. With the way he’s half-perched on the stool, taking him down should be easy. However, I never underestimate my opponent, so I cautiouslywalk toward him. I’m trying to act casual, but I’m still ten feet away when he spots me.

“Fuck!” He pushes off the stool and bolts toward the back door.

I take off after him. He shoves the door open and runs out into blinding sunlight. I’m crashing through the door a second later. He’s running across the parking lot toward his truck when I spot Scar and Reaper.

“Over there!” I point while running.

They sprint toward Polson, but he makes it to his truck and hops inside. He must have locked the doors instantly because when Reaper tries to pull the passenger side open, it doesn’t budge. I jump into the bed of the truck. Before I can get my balance, the vehicle lurches forward, nearly running over Scar. He jumps out of the way at the last second. Reaper tries to hang onto the handle, but it’s pointless. He swings his fist to smash in the window, but the truck is moving too fast, and he misses.

I drop to my hands and knees so I won’t fall out. Crawling forward, all I can see are Holly’s bruises and burns. Blinding rage sends my heart racing. All the injustice I’ve endured fuels my anger. I channel that into my fists and pound on the glass window separating the cab from the bed. The safety glass cracks before shattering into a million pieces.

I reach in and grab Polson by the throat. He tries to claw my hand away, but I’ve got him in a death grip. The tires squeal as he slams on the brakes and jerks the wheel. Centrifugal force throws me to the side. My forearm smacks against the window before I’m thrown back into the bed. I don’t adjust fast enough, so when he hits the gas, I fall over the edge of the bed. Rolling, I manage to lessen the impact enough not to break bones.

He rolls coal, sending a puff of black smoke out of his tailpipe. I choke on the acrid air. By the time it clears, he’s just adot in the distance on the highway. Two Harleys pull up beside me. It’s Scar and Reaper.

“Get on,” Scar says.

“Go after him,” I yell as I climb on behind him. Normally I’d never ride bitch, but these aren’t normal times.

“He’s gone. I’m taking you back. Then we’re going to the clubhouse to regroup.”

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