Page 38 of Ride Hard
I was so far from being in control it wasn’t evenfunny.
“Who are they?” I asked, breaking the three-hour cone ofsilence.
Chaser glanced at me, then turned back to theroad.
“C’mon, what’s the harm in telling me?” I complained. “Who are the men afterme?”
“Don’t worry about who they are,” he replied. “Worry about stayingalive.”
“Someone is trying to kill me, Chaser. So far, there have been two attempts. I can’t let it go. Not when I almost lost my headyesterday.”
He remainedsilent.
“I’m in this up to my eyeballs, and I don’t know who the fuck you are, let alone what my father wants, because we both know these assholes that are after me are a thinly veiled attempt at sinking his poisonous claws back intome.”
“That bullet was the farthest thing from a thinly veiled attempt as you can get,” Chaserexclaimed.
“Who arethey?”
He ground his teeth. It was a wonder he had any pearly whites left in his mouth at thispoint.
“Who are they, and why can’t we disappear someplacetogether?”
“You need to stop trying to convince me to run away withyou.”
“I’m not going to stop because I want nothing to do with Fortitude. And neither doyou.”
“Yet another story you’ve made up to convince yourself you have a chance,” hereplied.
“Pull over,” Idemanded.
“Not going tohappen.”
“Pullover.”
“Nope.”
“Pull over the fucking car before I grab thewheel.”
With a growl, he swerved to the side, the wheels flying into the gravel, and slammed his foot on the brake. I was flung forward, and the seatbelt caught and tossed me rightback.
“What?” he shouted. “What do you fucking want fromme?”
“Do you think you’re the only tortured soul in the world?” I asked, seeing red. “Poor Chaser leading the life of a hired thug. He finds shit and brings it back like a dog chasing astick.”
“Sloane.”
The warning was clear in his voice, but I wouldn’t back down. I was done with this bullshit. The back and forth, the false faces, the simmering attraction. It was time to snap him in half and find out whatreallymade himtick.
“You hate it,” I continued. “You hate working for Fortitude. You’re not one of them. You’re too good for that petty shit.Your skills are too good. So what is it? Undercover cop? Ex-military? CI-fucking-A?”
“It doesn’t matter who Iam—”
“It matters,” I argued. “Either you turn the car around and take me someplace else other than Fortitude or Iwalk.”
“Sloane, get it through your pretty little head. If you leave and go it on your own, you will be dead before the day is done. You getme?”
“Oh, I getyou.”
