Page 63 of Along for the Ride

“The little thief is tough, G. She’ll be okay.” Trying to relate to or comfort someone isn’t my strength, but I’m fucking trying. I can kill someone, but fuck off if I have to connect with someone on a personal level.

Except Leana.

Aside from my brother, the weird dynamic between me and the thief is the closest I’ve ever felt to caring for a person. I let her steal a part of whatever heart I have.

“George is a man evenwefear, so how do you expect Leana to survive his wrath?” Gentry says. “We’ve always been on borrowed time with him, and that’s why I wanted this run to be our last.”

My eyes snap up to him. “I amnotafraid of that sack of shit. I’ve been ready to turn on his ass for ages. Don’t forget that I gave zero fucks when he wanted to kill me.”

“What are you going to do, Karson? What do you really think you’ll be able to do when you face him?”

I grip my pistol in one hand, my knife in the other, and wave them in the air. “I’m going to find his old ass and humble him. Or die trying. You just worry about getting our girl while I’m busy.”

Gentry’s lips tighten but draw up at the corners. “If they touched her, you won’t be the only one doing some humbling.”

He pulls the SUV to a stop in front of a large building. The warehouse is beyond massive—even bigger than I remember—but my stomach twists when I spot the empty parking lot. George is in one of three places, but I’ve made the wrong choice. He’s not here.

We get out of the SUV, and the first thing I do is take a piss in the bushes. Gentry sighs and unzips his fly to do the same. The short time it takes to pee unnerves him and sets him on edge. A snarky comment lurks beneath my tongue, but I let it pass. He feels like every second matters, but George doesn’t wanther.He wantsus.Well, he wants to kill all of us, no doubt, but he’ll keep her alive until we get there. That’s the sort of sick shit I would do, anyway.

I walk along the outside of the building with Gentry. We peer into windows scabbed over with dirt. When I check the only two entrances, there’s a layer of scum on the knobs. No one has been here in a while.

“He’s not here, G.” My words aren’t enough to get him to stop searching, and I have to physically pull his giant ass toward the car. “Come on, dude. You can’t handle seven seconds to piss, but you’ll wallow around an empty building for an eternity?”

“Fuck you!” he roars before turning back and socking me in the face.

He’s punched me many times over the years—probably more times than I can count—but I’ve never felt so much hatred within his balled fist. My arms go behind me to brace myself for a collision, and I crash to the busted concrete. Even though he sucker punched me, I won’t fight back. He’s hurting more than I am right now.

“I’m sorry, Gentry.”

Something in this apology seems to resonate with him more than the apologies in the hotel. This one sinks in. Maybe because I meant this one.

He shakes out his hand and groans before helping me to my feet. “Where to next?”

“His club,” I say.

Gentry cocks his head. “You really think he’d bring her to a club?”

“There’s a whole sketchy basement with soundproof walls and a side entrance. You don’t have something like that unless you plan to bring some people down there who don’t want to be there.”

“Get in the car,” he snaps.

We drive through the city until we reach the nightclub. A shitload of vehicles clutters the parking lot here, but I don’t know if any belong to George and his men. I can only hope I’m right this time.

Gentry parks, wipes at his eyes, and gets out of the car, then we conceal our weapons and head toward the entrance. As soon as we step inside, music bumps in my chest and I’m mesmerized by the strobe lights flashing over the shadowed bodies in the next room. The bouncer stares at us, as if we have “I’m going to ass fuck your boss before slitting his throat” written on our foreheads. He stands up and steps toward us.

Gentry rushes forward and pushes him against the wall before he can draw his gun, knocking into his shitty podium on the way. I whip out my knife and hold it against his throat, and suddenly the big, scary bouncer is nearly pissing his pants.

“Where’s your boss?” Gentry asks.

“Joe is inside,” he says through a tensed jaw.

“Not Joe. Your real boss. Where’s George?” He shakes him, which scrapes my blade over his skin.

“He’s been gone since last night,” the bouncer nearly whimpers. “We don’t know where. He doesn’t tell us anything.”

Gentry pats the man’s cheek. “If I find out you’re protecting him, I’ll come back here, cut off your dick, stuff it in your mouth, and choke you with it. Are we clear?”

I pocket my knife and stare him down.

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