Turning off the shower, I dried myself off and pulled on my clothes.

That morning, I’d woken up on the side of the bed labeled ‘frustrated.’ The longer Chaser and I were on this screwed-up road trip to hell, the more confused I became. It was like I’d stepped into some parallel universe where nothing was as it seemed.

I was beginning to doubt the bad guys Chaser had decided he was there to protect me from even existed. If it weren’t for the very real encounter with that guy behind Teasers and the pool of blood Mrs. Adelstein had been lying in, I would’ve laughed in his face. Then called the cops on his ass and reported him for stalking. Either that or just get Bobby to kick the shit out of him in a dark alley.

Pushing out of the bathroom, I sat on the end of the bed. The moment the bathroom was free, Chaser strode into it and slammed the door closed.

Picking up my textbook, I shoved it into my bag. It was near on impossible to study while Chaser stared at me like I’d sprouted a second head. Did he think it was a waste of time to get a degree? Pfft, what would he know? He was a bounty hunter kidnapper piece of shit who ran with bikers. It was a miracle he even knew what a book was.

Glancing at his bag, I felt the telltale signs of temptation. My money might be in there. Glancing at the bathroom door, my mind went blank as I realized the door hadn’t closed. A gap the width of my palm granted me access to the ultimate peep show, and another kind of temptation reared its ugly head. As the shower turned off and Chaser got out, I didn’t have the strength to look away.

I was rooted to the spot, my gaze lowering over the curve of his back and down to his ass. Fuck me. It was round and perfect. Imagining his cheeks flexing as he fucked, I flushed.

Turn around, turn around, turn around.

He reached for a towel and wrapped it around his waist, denying me the glimpse of his cock I was so desperate for.

What was wrong with me? I was lusting after the man who’d practically kidnapped me. Well, he had saved me from Pube Face and whoever had murdered Mrs. Adelstein. But… There was always a but at the end of every hot guy.

But he was a biker bounty hunter. But he was only here because he’d been ordered. But he was taking me back to my dick of a father. But he probably had a pussy in every town. But he was no good for me.

There had to be better men out there. I knew there was, but I wasn’t going to meet them locked up in a fortress made out of the blood and tears of a bunch of dudes on tricycles.

Well and truly missing the opportunity to get my money back, I picked up a boot, stuck my foot inside and did up the side zipper.

I was going mad. Certifiably crazy as fuck.

The bathroom door opened, revealing a fully clothed Chaser. Pouting, I pulled on my other boot and dragged my bag out to the car while he returned the key. We had a whole routine going. If it weren’t for him always looking over our shoulders for some unknown threat, it would’ve been quaint.

Waiting for him in the front seat of the car, I salivated as he appeared around the corner and strode toward me. Broad shoulders, a T-shirt that clung to his muscled chest, the edges of his tattoo peeking out of the collar, his stubbled jaw, and hair that fell forward over his brow. Every time he combed his hand through his dark locks, I felt myself juicing up.

When he got in the car, he shoved my feet off the dash.

“How many fuckin’ times do I have to tell you to keep your feet down?”

You would think that would serve as a proverbial bucket of ice water, but his touch only sent sparks up my legs and into my girly bits.

Shoving on my five-dollar sunglasses, I made a face.

But by the time we’d driven an hour down the road, I was squirming in my seat. It would be really dumb of me to rub one out in the car, but I was contemplating it. And to think just an itty bitty glimpse of his ass did this to me.

“Will you sit still?” Chaser barked at me like a rabid Doberman. “You’re really pissing me off.”

“Join the club.”

My gaze lowered, studying every inch of him. He was well aware I was staring because his hand tightened on the gear stick.

I’d noticed he had a sloppy way of driving. He leaned slightly to the side while his left hand sat on the steering wheel and his right lay either on his lap or on the center console. Today, I noticed he had a smear of black ink on his right thumb between the joints.

“What’s this?” I grasped his hand and lifted it up so I could see the tattoo on his thumb.

“It’s my stamp of approval,” he replied dryly.

It was a tattoo that looked like a crude rendering of two crossed swords. I knew that image, and it made me want to puke. It was the Fortitude logo. Yeah, a logo like they were some kind of corporate conglomeration with a business card.

“They mark you now?” I demanded.

“It’s just a tattoo.”

“It’s not just a tattoo. It’s a brand like you’re a piece of livestock.”

“So you care about me and my tricycle now?” He snatched his hand back and glared, his thundercloud personality raining all over the place.

“Get over yourself,” I hissed. “Can’t somebody say something nice to you?” I pushed my sunglasses back up my nose and sank back into the seat. “God forbid someone might actually care.”

“You? Care about me?” he scoffed, leaning his elbow against the window, his right hand taking the wheel.

“Is it such a foreign concept?”

“With the way you’ve been acting since I picked you up? Yeah, it is.”

“It’s nothing personal.”

“That’s not going to change my mind.”

I eyed him, my mind going to dirty places for no other reason than I still remembered seeing his ass that morning.

“Do you want me to change my mind?” I asked, my voice low.

“Sloane.” His tone had softened considerably.

“Chaser.”

Who’d flipped the switch? The heat was well and truly on.

Other than the first night we’d spent together, he’d made sure I got the first shower, got the first meal, and I got the bed while he slept on either the floor or a chair. He tensed every time I stared at him too long, and he bit my head off when my words got too close for comfort.

Was Chaser finally cracking? Did I want him to?

Ten minutes of uneasy silence went by, and finally, Chaser turned off the road, and we came to an abrupt halt beside a gas pump at a gas station. The lot beside us was empty, as was the road behind us until a lone truck rumbled by, but after that, we were alone again.

“I need to take a piss,” I said, mainly wanting to get away from him for a few blessed minutes. My bladder was perfectly fine.

“Then go,” he retorted.

Following the sign painted on the side of the building, I cursed when I realized the door to the restroom was locked. A sign riveted onto the brick wall said Key for Paying Customers Only.

Storming inside, I asked the attendant for the key and pointed to Chaser, who paced outside. “He’s paying for some gas once he’s done wearing a hole in the pavement.”

“Well…” The man eyed me and reluctantly handed me the key. “All right.”

Glancing through the window, I saw Chaser’s back was turned. He was scanning the road, watching cars swish past. Looking at the key in my hand, I knew this was my chance. I might have five, maybe six, minutes before he came looking. If I was going, it had to be now.

Pushing out the side door, I saw the sign hanging over the restroom. Approaching, my boots crunched on the gravel underfoot, and the key felt like it weighed a million tons.

All I had to do was climb the chain-link fence, cross the empty lot, and disappear into the ravine. A short climb up the other side and I would lose him in the outskirts of whatever city glittered up there.

I hesitated. Why was I so confused? Surely a glimpse of his ass hadn’t put this much doubt into me.

A gunshot rang out across the open lot, and the wall splintered beside my head. Letting out a scream, I dropped to my knees and scurried behind the brick fence separating the side door from the open space beyond.

Flinging my arms over my head, my heart jackhammered as I heard the sound of boots thundering toward me.

“She’s there!” an unfamiliar voice shouted.

Glancing up, I caught sight of Chaser peering around the corner, and my eyes widened.

He raised his finger to his lips, signaling me to keep quiet. Then he raised his hand, revealing a gun plastered in it.

Aiming, he fired once, the boom echoing across the open space, and a split second later, a man grunted in pain. It was this loud oomph on the other side of the wall that made me almost crap my pants. He’d been so close.

“Chaser…” I cried, not knowing which way to run.

“Stay down.” He was a handful of steps away from me, but it felt like a million miles. Rounding the corner, he moved toward me, the gun held high.

I was such a mess. I thought I could run from Chaser and take care of myself? Fat fucking chance. I’d turned to water the moment that bullet zoomed past my face. I was a coward. A little girl waiting for a man to save me.

Grasping my hand, Chaser pulled me from out behind the wall and into the open. We took one step, and movement flashed as a man leaped out from behind the old sign where he’d been taking cover. He raised his gun and fired. Just like that. No hesitation.

Chaser reacted instantly. He shoved me to the side, and I fell, my knees hitting the ground as the bullet flew past. He fired back. Pop, pop, pop.

“Sloane.” Chaser held out his hand, and I gasped. Blood was trickling down his arm, covering his palm and fingers.

“You’re bleeding.”

“Get up. We have to go. Now.”

“Where’s the other guy?”

“Dead.” He nodded across the yard where a man was crumpled against the chain-link fence. “Do you get it now?”

“I get it!” I exclaimed. “Okay? I fucking get it.”

Scrambling to my feet, I felt like throwing up, but I followed Chaser to the car, aware of the dull sound of approaching sirens. It had been self-defense, but Chaser had still opened fire and killed two men. Suddenly, the thought of him being locked up sent a wave of nausea through me.

That was when he stumbled and bashed against the car, leaving a smear of blood on the window.

Chaser had been shot.

He’d pushed me out of the way and had literally taken a bullet for me.

“Give me the keys,” I demanded, springing into action.

“Leave it,” he barked.

“You’ve been shot, you dumb ass, and if you can’t hear that, those are sirens. Give me the fucking keys!”

Hissing, he tossed them at me, and I caught them against my chest. Rushing around the hood, I got into the driver’s seat and shoved the key into the ignition. The moment Chaser shut the passenger side door, I turned the engine over.

The car roared into life, and I maneuvered us through the gas pumps and toward the road. Fishtailing out onto the street, I slammed my foot on the gas, and the car jolted forward, the tires squealing before propelling us away from the gas station.

Chaser hissed as he grasped his arm, tearing away the torn material of his jacket so he could check the damage.

“What now?” I asked, my hands, and practically everything else, shaking. “How bad is it? Do we need to go to a hospital?”

“No. No hospitals. They have to report gunshot wounds to the cops.” He hissed as he poked and prodded at his arm.

“But what if…” He was bleeding a lot. Like bucket loads.

“I won’t bleed out,” he retorted. “It’s just a flesh wound.”

As he shucked off his jacket and tore strips out of the lining, I loosened my grip on the wheel and focused on the road ahead. When he grunted in obvious pain, I glanced back and saw he’d tied a tourniquet just above his bicep.

“Where do we go from here?” I asked, checking the mirrors, thankful the road was empty behind us.

“North,” he said, settling back into the seat. “Go north.”