“What do you mean, no one’s ever saved your life before?”

I glanced over my shoulder to where Sloane was sitting beside the road. There was a scrape on her forehead, but there weren’t any other noticeable injuries on her.

I was rifling through the black sedan, trying to find anything that would help, but I wasn’t having much luck. Two tires were blown out, the back axle was cracked, and the fuel tank had a bullet hole in it. Luckily, it hadn’t blown the car up.

We weren’t driving it anywhere.

I found nothing useful on the bodies, either. These assholes had really upped their faceless men routine. Their fingerprints had been burned off. That was commitment.

“Chaser?”

I narrowed my eyes and snatched the tire iron out of the trunk.

“Aren’t you worried another car will find us?” she asked, changing tactics. “If someone finds us with those bodies, we’re screwed.”

Striding over to the twisted wreck that used to be my car, I shoved the end of the tire iron under the lip of the trunk and heaved. Metal groaned, then gave way as it opened. Our bags tumbled out and collided with the road, the sound of something smashing causing Sloane to scramble to her feet.

“That better not be my laptop,” she exclaimed.

I tossed Sloane her bag, and it landed at her feet with a thud.

“If you’ve got a sweater in there, you’d better put it on,” I commanded. “It gets cold out here at night.”

She rifled through her bag, wailing when she saw the screen of her laptop was shattered. I narrowed my eyes but said nothing. This was her way of coping after she’d blown that guy’s head off. It wasn’t easy killing a man, and even though Sloane was one tough woman, nothing was more confronting than taking a life.

Watching her take out a cardigan, I picked up my own bag and slung it over my shoulder, making sure the gun I’d taken from the heavies was tucked in the waistband of my jeans. When Sloane stood, I handed her back her gun.

“I…” she began, staring at my outstretched hand.

“Take it,” I said. “You wanted it a week ago, so here it is.”

“I don’t think…”

“You could’ve shot me,” I declared. “But you didn’t.”

She pursed her lips and stared at the gun. After a moment, she reached out and took it.

“It’s a hard thing,” I whispered. “The first time.”

“Hopefully, the last,” she muttered before setting out down the road.

If she were right about her father’s intentions, then it would be the first of many. If she wanted to protect herself from what was coming, then she couldn’t hesitate.

Watching her walk away from the wreck and the bodies, I sighed.

“If I didn’t feel like hurling, I might like it out here,” she declared, her voice loud in the silence.

“Are you feeling sick?” I asked, catching up to her.

Stopping, I grasped her arm. She didn’t fight me when I placed my palm against her forehead. She was a little warm.

“It’s nothing.”

“You feel warm.”

“If I were going to die from internal bleeding, I would already be dead,” she stated. “And if I broke any bones, I’d feel it by now. I got lucky.”

I sensed she was complaining about other things to avoid talking about the skull explosion. Still, I had to make sure she didn’t die of some unknown injury from the accident. She was right about one thing. We were lucky as hell to get out of that with only minor bumps and scratches.

“You killed him to survive. After he killed me, he would’ve come after you.”

“I know.” She glanced up at the sky. “But I still took a life.”

A melancholy howl echoed across the vast landscape, and she stiffened.

“What’s that?” she asked, her head twisting toward the noise.

“Coyote.”

She shivered and looked around warily at the landscape. She wasn’t much of a nature buff, that was for sure.

“Keep walking,” I commanded. “The sooner we find civilization, the sooner we’re back on the road.”

There was no reply, and we walked in silence as the sun went down.

“He called you Gunnar,” she said after a while. “Why?”

Sloane could never leave things unsaid for too long. How much had she heard before she shot that guy? Best to play it by ear and not give too much away. My shit wasn’t her business or her burden to carry. She had enough of her own problems to worry about.

“Because that’s my name,” I said after a pause.

“That’s your real name?”

“You think my mamma called me Chaser?” I asked, raising my eyebrow.

“No.”

“Chaser is a name I took to help conceal my identity.”

“So why are you telling me this now?”

She stopped walking, and I turned, peering at her in the dark. Her long hair was tangled and strewn with dirt, the knees of her jeans were ripped open, the toes of her boots were scuffed, but she was still beautiful. The sight of her tore my dead heart in two.

“It’s no use hiding shit anymore,” I replied.

“Why?”

“You’re full of so many annoying fucking questions.” I rolled my eyes.

“You don’t like talking very much.” And Sloane loved to fill the peaceful silences with boring shit that drove me insane.

“What gave me away?”

“I still want to run away with you, you know.”

I grunted and started walking. A moment later, the sound of her footsteps caught up to me.

“Do you think they were watching us back at the lake?” she asked.

“Possibly.”

She shivered. “Perverts.”

At least we gave them a show. Maybe they fucked each other up the ass while they watched her suck my dick. Maybe that was why they didn’t put bullets in our heads while I fingered Sloane in the lake.

“Are we going to sleep out here?”

I glanced up at the moon and shrugged. “Maybe.”

“But we’ve got nothing to make a fire, and there are coyotes out there…” On cue, another howl echoed through the night.

“It’s about fifteen miles to the nearest town,” I said. “So about five hours.”

“How do you know that?” She screwed up her face. “Are you a fucking medium now?”

“No.” I pointed to the sign that was looming out of the darkening twilight. “It’s written right there.”

Sloane scowled, which only caused me to laugh.

“Don’t laugh at me,” she complained. “Five hours walk? Fuck that shit.”

Ignoring her, I kept walking, focusing on the last smear of sunlight on the horizon. Forever moving east… Straight into the lion’s den.

* * *

It didn’t take a genius to know we took over five hours to cover the distance to the smallest town in America.

Sloane dragged her feet the entire way, and it was closing in on two a.m.‬ by the time civilization came into view. It didn’t help that no cars had passed us, either. Hitching a ride would’ve been a welcome luxury, but we would have had a lot of explaining to do about the mess we’d left behind. ‬‬‬‬‬‬

Nothing stirred, so we spent the rest of the night on the stoop of the local post office—a rundown building in the middle of a park of dead trees and rusted play equipment—and waited for something to move.

Sloane fell asleep instantly, so I kept watch, passing the time watching the sky for UFOs until the sun rose.

“Excuse me? Sir?”

My eyes snapped open, and I started as I realized I’d drifted off. Idiot.

“Sir?” the voice asked again.

Looking up into the face of a confused middle-aged woman, I rubbed my eyes, and Sloane stirred beside me.

“Ma’am?” I rose to my feet, dusting off my jeans as I went. “I’m sorry to disturb you. We ran into some trouble on the road during the night and—”

“You broke down?” she asked, interrupting me.

I gave her the once-over, noting the United States Postal Service emblem on her blouse and the wiry silver hair on her head. She had a no-nonsense look about her.

“Yes. We ran off the road about fifteen miles back. Blew two tires and rolled.”

The woman glanced at Sloane, who’d remained silent, thank fuck.

“Lucky you got out of that, then,” she said, stepping around us and unlocking the door. “No one bothers us out here much anymore. If you were trapped, no one would’ve found you anytime soon.”

“That explains why we saw no one on the walk here.”

The woman nodded. “It won’t be long until the post stops, then this place will really die. Hear that?” I frowned as she paused. “That silence is the death rattle.”

Sloane shot me a look and circled her finger around her temple, signaling she thought the woman was batshit crazy. Luckily, the woman didn’t notice the gesture and let us into the post office.

“May we trouble you to use your phone?” I asked.

“Sure thing. I don’t see why not. It’s out back.” She gestured for me to follow as Sloane lingered in the shop. Rounding the counter, the woman opened the door, turned on the lights, and nodded toward the desk. “Help yourself.”

I waited until I was alone to dial the number. This conversation wasn’t going to be pretty, not by a long shot.

He answered after five rings.

“What.”

The President of Fortitude MC wasn’t the warmest of men. No one called him by his name, only Boss or Sir. He expected results, and when he didn’t get them, he left a trail of blood behind him. I couldn’t blame Sloane for wanting to get as far away from the guy as possible. She was the image of him in her coloring, but her eyes…they must’ve been from her mother.

Her eyes were soft and intelligent. Her father’s eyes were cold, dead, and full of violence.

“It’s Chaser.”

Silence. Then, “I expected you back a week ago.”

I could hear the veiled threat in his voice, and I narrowed my eyes.

“We ran into some trouble on the road,” I explained. “They targeted her in her home and three times since. Last night, they ran us off the road, totaled the car, and tried to put bullets in both of us.”

“Is she alive?” His voice was cold, and I scowled.

“Yes.”

“You left a mess behind. I’m disappointed, Chaser.”

“There was no time—”

“I’m not talking about the trail of bodies. Those fuckers can rot in the street for all I care. I’m talking about that blonde bitch. Betty’s friend the whore.”

I frowned, then smacked my fist against the desk as I realized he was talking about that bitch Yvette. Sloane’s friend from the strip club. She was still looking out for her, which was usually an admirable quality, but not in this case. It was another problem on a long list of fucked up shit that was plaguing my life.

“If she keeps causing trouble with the cops, then I’ll have to send someone to clean up,” he said. “I don’t like killing women, especially single mothers.”

I didn’t doubt him for one second. I also didn’t believe the last statement, either. Emotional manipulation was one of his finer skills. Veiled threats were another.

“I’ll handle it,” I said.

“You better. You have three days, Chaser. When that fucking sun sets, I want Betty at Fortitude. If you can’t deliver, then our deal is forfeit. Do you understand?”

“I understand.” I gritted my teeth as the line went dead.

Fuck. Sloane would never forgive me if I let anything happen to her friend. I was already almost in the doghouse, but this would be the nail in the coffin.

“We’re stuck,” I said, emerging from the office. Sloane was twirling a dusty rack of postcards, and the woman was watching her as if she were worried about her shoplifting. “How far is the closest bus stop? Is there one out here?”

“Nope. Nothing but falling down buildings and rotting shit,” the woman said.

“Great,” Sloane drawled.

“You’re a ways from the interstate here,” the woman went on. “If I were you, I’d get to Tucumcari. They have all sorts of things there. They even have a McDonalds.”

Sloane snorted, and I shot her a warning glare.

“Is there anyone around that might give us a ride?” I asked. “I’m willing to pay.”

“Sure. I can phone Tucker. He’s always looking for an extra dollar. Can’t promise you, though. Those boys were out hunting last night.”

“Thank you.”

As the woman shuffled out back, Sloane gave me a look.

“Thank you?” she asked. “Since when do you say thank you?”

“When I want something,” I drawled.

We stared each other down in a silent battle, my mind going to the gutter…and back to the lake. It took a special sort of relationship to withstand the fighting to get to the fucking. For Sloane and me, the fuck at the end of a battle of wills was the best kind of orgasm. It was all I could do not to bend her over the counter and fuck her tight ass right now.

I smirked, realizing I hadn’t come in that hole yet. When she bit her bottom lip, I knew she was thinking the exact same thing I was.

Dirty minds thought alike.

“Tucker will be along in a few minutes,” the woman called out from the back office, breaking apart our heated eye fucking.

“See?” I said to Sloane. “Asking nicely gets you all sorts of shit.”