I peered out the window at the motel beyond, the eerie light of predawn making the desert look ghostly.

“What are we doing exactly?” I asked when I heard Chaser rustle around in our bags.

He was double and triple checking we had everything we needed. He’d whittled down our belongings back in Las Vegas, so there wasn’t much to pack, but I couldn’t fault him for being obsessive. The contents of those duffels would help save our lives…if it came down to that.

He still hadn’t explained his ten-day super plan. Maybe it had something to do with whatever he did when he was undercover with the FBI. It seemed like it was a very specific timeline, and ‘all-out war’ wasn’t exactly the step-by-step I was hoping for.

Honestly, I was at a loss. I had no idea what to do next.

“We’ve got to leave for starters,” Chaser said. “We can’t stay in the same place for more than a day or two.”

I hoped he knew where we were going because I was lost. Shit, there were still stars in the sky it was that early. I shivered and let the curtains fall back into place.

“The desert confuses me,” I said.

“Why’s that?”

“It’s freezing out, but once the sun comes up, we’ll be having a fry out on the hood of the car.”

“Sunny-side up?” Chaser cocked an eyebrow.

“Very funny. I like scrambled.”

I slid my arms into my denim jacket and flipped up the collar. Next, I reached for my revolver and slipped it into the inside pocket. It was the perfect coat for stashing things. I disliked carrying a handbag, so pockets were a dream come true. The butt hung out, the mother-of-pearl shimmering in the light, but it stayed put. Once I buttoned up the front, it would be secure. Something told me having access to a quick draw was a good idea.

“Ready?” Chaser asked, throwing his bag over his shoulder.

I nodded. I was ready, as in packed and dressed, but mentally? I was getting there. Slowly.

Chaser opened the door and stepped outside with me right behind him, and when we realized we weren’t alone, my heart twisted. Shit.

A group of men was lined up in the lot outside, their motorcycles behind them. The motel grounds were narrow out here, the line of shrubs and gnarled trees bordering the edge of the property, narrowed the space significantly. They must’ve wheeled their bikes into the lot because we never heard any engines. We hadn’t heard a single squeak, and now we were hemmed in with no way to escape.

Chaser grasped my arm, and we came to a stop. Six guns were pointed right at us. Pistols, revolvers, and one shotgun. My reflexes kicked in, and I slid my revolver from my inside pocket to the back of my jeans.

I narrowed my eyes and took in each face, memorizing them all. I recognized most of them from Fortitude and knew them to be the dregs of society. The crew that had frothed at the mouth when they knew Harley was dead and his woman, Sam, was ripe for the picking. When I got to their leader, I felt like throwing up in my mouth.

“Rocket.”

“Sloane,” he replied. “You’ve got a lot to answer for, young lady.” His mouth curved into a grin as he shook his gun at me.

One thing I noticed about them, they were well rested, their motorcycles shone despite the thin layer of dust from their ride across the desert, and their jackets and vests had new emblems on them. A flaming skull with the words, Hollow Riders MC, California.

“I left you for dead,” Chaser said. “You should be rotting in the ground.”

“Hoo boy!” Rocket exclaimed. “I bested cold, old Chaser. I never thought I’d see the day. I’ll have to give my regards to Gasket. He led us here, the old son of a bitch.”

I curled my lip, resisting the urge to kick the dirty biker in the balls. Gasket would never sell us out, which meant they’d followed him here.

“Chaser…” I tugged at his arm, ignoring Rocket’s goading. “Their jackets…”

“Let me introduce you to the new lieutenants of the Hollow Riders Motorcycle Club, Californian Chapter.” Rocket smirked and spread his arms wide. “King sends his regards.”

“You’re with them,” I murmured. “You’re on the Hollow Men’s payroll.” That was why Gasket lost their scent. They had a new master.

“Bingo, sweetheart. Where there’s an opportunity for profitable mayhem, we’re goin’ to take it. Fortitude was going down, with or without you shootin’ your daddy. You gave us an opportunity to spread our wings.”

“Some fucking wings,” Chaser muttered.

“You made a deal.” Rocket hawked, then spat on the asphalt. “You’re past due, and we’re here to collect. You know what that means.” He straightened up and aimed his gun at us, and the other men followed suit. “On your knees.”

My fingers itched to curl around some mother-of-pearl. There was no way in hell Rocket and his gang of rejects were going to best us. Not after everything we’d struggled through to get here. I glanced at Chaser, and he nodded.

“Be quick,” he murmured, letting me know he was on the same wavelength. “I’ll follow.”

I slipped my free arm through the second strap of my bag, wearing the duffle like a backpack.

Reaching behind me, I wrapped my fingers around the revolver and pulled it out. I fired, making the bikers scatter, and dove behind our car. Chaser was beside me, his own gun in his hands, the safety off.

“Bitch!” Rocket roared.

“Eat shit, asshole!” I screeched as gunfire rained down on us. Thankfully, the car took most of the brunt, though the motel behind us had a few new holes in the wall.

We returned fire, spraying the lot, pinpointing where the enemy was taking shelter. There were six of them and two of us. Uneven odds and we were low on ammo. This was a temporary solution to a situation going bad faster than we could keep up with.

The trigger clicked on my revolver, and I cursed. I reloaded, spun the barrel back into place, waited for a break in gunfire, then poked my head back up. Firing, I used my last six shots as best I could. I aimed for Rocket, but he ducked behind the drug dealer’s Chevy, and the bullet sailed right past. I tried again and again and felt like I was playing a sick game of whack-a-mole.

I pulled the trigger, and nothing happened. Cursing, I knelt back behind the car.

“I’m out,” I said to Chaser. “Got any bright ideas?”

“We’ve got to get away from here,” he replied.

“Where do we go? We don’t have a plan.”

Another wave of gunfire pinned us behind the car. A shotgun pellet shattered the window above our heads, and I shielded my face, flinching as granulated glass fell down the back of my jacket.

“Fortitude,” Chaser said, shoving the last clip into his gun.

“LA?” I exclaimed. “That’s hundreds of miles away!”

“We have no other choice. We’ll be protected there.”

“How?” I covered my head with my arms as another rain of bullets smacked into the car. “They shot out our fuel tank.”

Chaser pointed to the row of motorcycles. “Do you know how to ride?”

My eyes widened, and I nodded. Gasket had taught me when I was a teenager, then I’d had a refresher when I started my apprenticeship upon my return. I hadn’t gone further than around the neighborhood back then, so cruising the highway at full tilt had my blood running.

“We’ll have to be quick,” he added.

“Quick won’t matter if there are no keys in the ignition.”

Chaser was right. We had to make a break for it before the cops arrived.

“They’re cocky,” he said. “They didn’t expect a firefight. There’ll be keys.”

The gunfire subsided when the renegades realized we weren’t fighting back.

“It’s over!” Rocket shouted. “Come out, and we’ll make this easy on you. King wants you both alive, but he said nothin’ about the condition.”

Chaser looked at me. “I’ll cover you.”

“What about you?” I whispered.

“I trained for situations like these,” he replied. “I’ll be right behind you.”

Nodding, I stashed the revolver in my inside pocket. It was useless without bullets, but I didn’t want to leave it behind. Poetic justice was killing my father with it, and adding King to the collection would be the ultimate.

Knowing Chaser only had one more clip in his Glock, I waited for his cue. There was no margin for error in this. It was either flee or die. Don’t look back.

“Go!”

I sprang to my feet, pushing off the ground with all the strength I could muster. Sprinting across the lot, the deafening bang of gunfire covered my escape. Throwing my leg over the closest motorcycle, a Harley Sportster, my hands began to tremble as I fumbled with the controls. Thankfully, Chaser was right about the renegades being cocky sons of bitches. The keys were still in the damn thing.

A surge of adrenaline drove me onward, and I yanked out the choke and turned the key, wishing it was easier to start one of these hulking beasts. Pulling the clutch on, I shifted the gear into neutral and pressed the start button. Gunfire popped behind me, and I lowered my head as the bike roared into life. I didn’t have time to wait for the engine to warm up, so I shifted into first and hit the gas. Gasket would have a fit, knowing I was riding a Harley with the choke on, but considering the circumstances, I didn’t give a shit.

I almost lost my balance as I sped across the motel lot, the bike wobbling underneath me. I heard another engine start, followed by angry shouting, and hoped it was Chaser stealing another motorcycle from those creeps.

“After them!” I heard Rocket shout, but his voice was snatched away by the wind as I tore out onto the highway.

Glancing over my shoulder, the Harley wobbled slightly, and I sighed in relief when I saw Chaser gaining on me. The motel faded into the distance, but the glint of the remaining motorcycles followed us out onto the road.

Chaser came up alongside me, looking smooth as, the sound of the engines mingling.

“You okay?” he shouted over the road noise.

“Fine!”

“Can you handle the bike?”

“Piece of cake!”

He glanced over his shoulder. “They’re coming.”

The desert stretched either side of the highway, open and offering no cover. To the left were the beginnings of a rocky range of low mountains. We could lose them there.

I gestured to the road before us. “Lead the way.”

Chaser nodded and moved ahead, his bag slung over his back like mine. A mile down the highway, he turned off onto a smaller road, and we weaved through the rocky landscape, the twists and turns hiding us from what was behind and in front. Well, at least one thought in my head was actionable.

A few more miles and Chaser slowed and drifted to the side, the wheels of his bike hitting gravel. I followed his lead, and we edged into the rugged landscape using the rock to hide us from the road.

Chaser cut his engine, and I did the same, the silence of the wild feeling more deafening than the roar of two Harleys. Throwing his leg over, he dumped his duffel and strode across the dirt, then began climbing up the packed earth, finding handholds in the uneven rock.

I stashed our bags in a cleft between two jagged boulders, just in case, and climbed up beside Chaser.

“Anything?”

“Not so far.”

We sat among the rocks, watching the road below and listening for sounds of pursuit. It wasn’t long before the telltale rumble of a convoy echoed off the baked stone. The sun rose behind us, coloring the landscape in rust-colored light, the heat already beginning to turn up several notches. If it weren’t for the ominous buzzing of our enemies, it would be beautiful.

I tensed as a glint of silver flashed in the distance, moving along the road we’d just been on.

“They could see our tire tracks,” I whispered, terrified my voice would carry even though they wouldn’t be able to hear us over their engines.

“I don’t think they’re smart enough to track out here in the desert,” Chaser replied. “Even if they did see the tracks and find the bikes, they’d be hard pressed to find us in all this.”

Nestled among the expanse, we watched as four motorcycles—and six men—rolled past. The Hollow Riders never had a chance in hell to spot us.

We waited an hour before descending, then climbed on the motorcycles and returned to the road. Doubling back, we found our way to the main route and turned toward Los Angeles.