Page 74 of Ride Hard
Sloane
When the bus reached Albuquerque,we jumped on an Amtrak train bound for Los Angeles. Only Arizona stood between California and us now, and with every passing mile, my anxiety levelsrose.
Staring out the window, I watched the platform move away from us, and the city flashed past as the train picked up speed. The central part of town morphed into an industrial zone, and then the factories melted away into the wilderness. Overhead, the sky was blue, and below, the earth wasscorched.
The train was more modern than I’d been expecting. We had a little private room with a shower and toilet, and when I said little…it was ashoebox.
There was a sofa with reclining sections and a separate chair. At night, the sofa somehow converted to a bed, and above it was a fold-down bunk. The room itself was on the top level of the train car, flanked by other rooms, with ten or so smaller compartments further down, and below us were even more, including a fancier family suite. Train travel went and got itselfupgraded.
Everything was gray and blue, which reflected my moodperfectly.
“You want a shower?” Chaserasked.
I nodded and peered into the tight space, making a face. The shower was so small it sat over the toilet. It would have to do. I smelled and felt like a giant wad of stinky trash. My hair was still full of grit and grime from theaccident.
Stripping, I left my dirty clothes on the seat and closed myself in the cubicle. Dousing myself with warm water, I tried not to focus on the bruises that had flared overnight and allowed my thoughts towander.
I scrubbed off the filth of our Texas slash New Mexico car crash drama as best I could with the little square of soapprovided.
The image of the world tumbling around and around filled my mind, and I pressed my palm against the wall to steady myself. It didn’t help the train was moving, and I breathed deeply. Calmness only made my ears ring with the sound of the fatal gunshot…and the horrific crack and splatter of the man’s skull being rippedapart.
He was a bad guy. He deserved it. It was him or me. I didn’t even know who theywere.
Forcing myself to squash down the memories, I washed the suds out of my hair and smoothed through some conditioner. As I rinsed, I made plans so I would have something else to focuson.
Within a day or two, Chaser and I would arrive at the Fortitude compound, and our whirlwind romance—if you could call it that—would be all over. Chaser, Gunnar, star employee of Fortitude MC, branded lackey to my father… Time was limited if I wanted to solve the one mystery that would haunt me for the rest of my miserable days. Who was the man I’d fallen in lovewith?
Scratch that. Who was the man I’d fallen inhopelesslovewith?
My core flared at the thought of him, and my heart twisted. Too many emotional responses in such a short amount of time had me overloading. I was spiraling into a one-way ticket to a psychward.
I had to stopcaring.
Shit, I’d killed a man to savehim.
This was my last chance to convince Chaser to either let me go or come with me. I could tell him how I felt now or forever hold my peace and die a slow, miserable death at the hands ofFortitude.
Emerging from the little cubicle, I pulled on my clothes, bumping against Chaser as the train moved from side to side. The accidental touch made my pussy constrict, and I scowled. Maybe it was only physical between us…No, it wasn’t. Not tome.
Sitting in the seat closest to the window, I toweled my hair and watched as he rifled through his stuff, taking out a T-shirt and a pair of dark-colored jeans and boxers. I wrinkled my nose as he sniffed the T-shirt, checking forfreshness.
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 thepicking.
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 moreexhilarating.
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 fromme.
So I opened hiswallet.
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 despiteit.
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, Ifroze.
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 atall.
Who was she? She was obviously someone special to him. Otherwise, why carry her pictureeverywhere?
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 likeher.
