Page 77 of Ride Hard
Sloane
Iwas backat squareone.
Chaser was my kidnapper, and I was nothing but cargo. It only meant onething.
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 onlychance.
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 likesuperglue.
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 mymind.
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 hiscum.
So I thought about his secret, dead wife and relished when the image of her face turned off my sex drive forgood.
Liar, murderer, piece of shit, good for nothing, alpha asshole, dog forhire.
Finally, his incessant staring got the better ofme.
“Don’t fucking look at me,” I snapped, throwing the first thing that my hand fellon.
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 myleg.
“Don’t touch me,either.”
“Don’t lie to me, Sloane,” he murmured, kneeling beforeme.
“That’s fucking rich coming fromyou.”
“I never owed you anything.” His palms came to rest on myknees.
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 lifestory.
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 theface.
“I’ll go to the dining car,” he said, rising to his feet. “Don’t let anyone elsein.”
I narrowed my eyes and turned my attention out the window to the desert rolling past thetrain.
He grunted, then opened the door. A moment later, it slammed closed, signaling he’dgone.
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 exhilaratingfeeling.
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 happytogether.
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 thedoor.
Peering out into the narrow hallway, I found it wasempty.
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 astation.
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 easesome.
“Excuse me,” I called out. “Could you tell me what the next stopis?”
“The next stop is Winslow, Arizona,” the conductor replied. “It’s about another half anhour.”
