Page 20 of Along for the Ride

“I’m bored,” Karson whines, drawing out the last word.

He sits up and looks behind his seat at Leana, and I regret taking away his toy when a feral smile crosses his lips. He unclips his seatbelt and climbs over the center console, something I could never do. I remain watchful as he drops onto the seat beside her. Karson’s kind of a fucking pervert, and if I’m not touching her, I sure as fuck don’t want him to lay a hand on her either.

She tugs her arms closer to her body and keeps her eyes pinned to the window. Karson stares at her. When that doesn’t get the reaction he craves, he leans toward her and inhales a deep breath. It’s really fucking creepy, and I don’t fault Leana for what she does next.

Her arm pulls back, and she sends her palm into his nose with all the force she can muster. A crunch preludes a flurry of curse words roaring from Karson’s mouth. I tighten my lips to keep from laughing. She did what I’ve wanted to do since our last gig.

“Fucking bitch,” he snarls, yanking her toward him by her hair. He draws back a clenched fist, but she meets his gaze without flinching. She’s way too fucking calm about what he’s going to do.

“Karson!” I shout, and the rage in my voice is enough to lower his arm.

“She fucking hit me! My nose is bleeding, for fuck’s sake! I should shoot her in the face.” Karson’s hands fumble around his waistband, but I have both his pistols up front. He springs from the back seat and reaches for the gun on the dashboard, but I snatch it away.

“We’re not doing this,” I say as I tuck the pistol between my legs. “You deserved that for being a creep.”

“You think that was creepy? I’ll show you both what creepy really is.” He grinds out the words through gritted teeth as he rips down the zipper of his fly. He’s likely preparing to jerk off in the back seat.

“Wanderer, you have my permission to rip his dick off if it’s out,” I goad.

The sound of his zipper struggling back into place pierces the silence. “Wanderer? Nice nickname he gave you, thief,” he snarls toward her as he leans over and grips her chin. “You’re his good little pet, huh?” He throws her away from him and climbs into the front. “Fuck you, G. I’m your family. Is this how you treat family?”

I lift my chin. “Really going there, brother? Do you actually want me to answer that?” Karson didn’t care about us being family when he gave me up for a slightly better deal, and he sure as fuck didn’t care when he fucked my wife. He continues to show his lack of care as he recklessly bulldozes over every one of my hits.

Leana sits back and shakes out her hand, unfazed by the entire ordeal. Karson lifts his arm and uses the sleeve of his jacket to comfort his bleeding nose. Despite the anger radiating from beside and behind me, at least everyone is fucking silent for once. Maybe we can actually get some miles under our belt now.

I return my entire focus to the road and keep driving.

ChapterTen

Leana

Idon’t utter a single word for the rest of the drive. My hand aches from the impact with Karson’s stupid face, but it was worth it. They have a really weird relationship, and I have no interest in being in the middle of such hostility. They don’t even seem like they like each other. How the hell do they travel together without someone winding up dead?

Gentry pulls into the parking lot of a hotel. It’s slightly more run down than the one from last night, but it’s still better than curling up beneath an overpass. They grab their duffle bags and start walking inside, and I’m left to press my face to the glass because the child locks are still engaged. Karson turns back and waves at me like an immature fucking child. Gentry turns around and takes a few long strides back to me. How kind of him to remember.

He opens the door, and I nearly face-plant onto the pavement. His powerful arms encase my body, saving me before I end up with road rash on my nose. He lifts me onto my unsteady feet and keeps his hand on my arm for longer than I’d like. I tug out of his grasp.

“You’re welcome,” he snaps.

Despite making it clear that I don’t want him to touch me, his arm winds around my waist and guides me toward the automatic doors in front of the hotel. The glass parts as we approach, and an overpowering flowery scent rushes toward us. It smells like a Glade PlugIn exploded in here. Gentry motions to Karson, who heads to the front desk to secure our rooms. Hopefully three, because I don’t want to room with either of them.

Karson returns with two sets of key cards in his hands.

Fuck.

We take the elevator to the fourth floor. Crusty flakes of dried blood flicker beneath Karson’s nose with every exhale, and the stain on his sleeve has darkened to a rusty brown. He catches me eyeing it and throws a silent snarl my way that reads like a promise of retaliation.

We exit the elevator and find our side-by-side rooms. Karson turns to us with the key cards in his hand. “There were only single queen-sized beds available,” he says.

“Enjoy sleeping together, boys.” I reach for a card, hoping those two jackasses will room together, but Karson raises it above my head.

“We aren’t leaving you alone,thief.” He snarls the word with such veracity it becomes literal venom. “Pick who you’d rather shack up with for the night. Hint: don’t pick me, because I will kill you and fuck your corpse.” Karson releases a laugh that makes the hair on the back of my neck lift away from my skin.

Even if he hadn’t just threatened me, there’s no way I’d share a room with him. I take a step closer to Gentry, choosing the man who showed at least a hint of normalcy by caring for me when I was at my weakest. While I don’t care for either of them, at least this one hesitates to take me out. Maybe earning his trust wouldn’t be such a bad thing. It might even make escape easier.

Karson scoffs and tosses one of the keys to Gentry before unlocking his door and going into the room alone. If I’m lucky, he’ll pull a David Carradine and hang himself while beating his dick in the closet. He seems like he’d be into some shit like that. I shouldn’t wish death upon someone, but he’s just so goddamn unlikable. He’s as outwardly attractive as his brother, but his attitude turns him into a bridge troll with leprosy.

Gentry and I enter our generic three-star hotel room to a stiffness that makes me think the ghosts of businessmen past probably haunt the room. Gentry throws his bag onto the white comforter that covers the white sheets and white pillowcases. The only darkness comes from the mahogany headboard, screwed into the wall behind the mattress and reaching nearly to the floor. A single chair stands near the bed, but it looks uncomfortable, as if it’s only there for show and isn’t meant to be sat on. There isn’t a couch in sight.

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