I closed the door behind me and gritted my teeth.

Sloane was never meant to find out. I was meant to deliver her to her father as promised, then things would go back to the way they were before I left California. At least, they were supposed to.

I hadn’t bargained on a lot of things in my life. Least of all meeting Sloane.

A cough drew my attention, breaking me out of my spiraling thought pattern. My gaze slammed into a familiar face, and I growled. Ginger hair, poor choice in clothing, ratty beard, eyes full of murder, and a perverted desperation for non-consensual fucking. What had Sloane called him? Pube Face. I got the resemblance now I was looking for it. His face looked like a pussy covered in coarse, ginger pubic hair.

He was standing at the top of the stairs, smiling at me in triumph. Instantly, I pulled my gun and took a purposeful step toward him.

Sensing my reaction, Ginger retreated down the stairs, and I followed.

Sloane would be fine as long as she stayed put like I told her. Kept the door locked. Tried nothing stupid. There was nowhere for her to go on a moving train.

Leaning against the wall, I twisted around the corner, pointing the gun down the stairwell. Clear.

Rage burned through my veins as I descended, my shoulder banging against the wall as the train swayed. The moment I reached the bottom, a hand shot out and grasped my wrist, slamming it to the side.

I grunted as Ginger collided with me, his elbow striking me on the temple. I shoved him away, and my grip loosened on the gun. He wrenched my wrist as he stumbled backward, twisting until my fingers loosened, and the firearm clattered to the floor.

Ginger was limping slightly, giving away his stab wound was still a long way from healing. How many days had Sloane and I been on the road together? It was bordering on two weeks, give or take. Stab wounds didn’t heal that fast.

We eyed each other for a long second, then he pulled a knife from his pocket and held it out in front of him. My gaze flickered to the gun lying between us. I could make a play for it, but it was unlikely I would lift it in time to fire before he stabbed me. I had to get the knife away from him.

I had to put an end to him before he got me. Otherwise, Sloane was done for.

Ginger lunged, and the knife came with him. Metal flashed, and I flung my body to the side, but there was nowhere to go. I grunted in pain as steel stabbed into my thigh, embedding into my flesh, and I fell back against the wall.

Stunned, I reached for the gun, but Ginger kicked it away as he strode toward me. Leaning over my stunned body, he grabbed my hair, his expression contorting.

“Eye for an eye, bitch. How does it feel?”

He slammed my head against the wall, and the world blurred. When he ripped out the knife, I hissed, not giving him the pleasure of hearing me howl in pain. And when he shoved me onto my side and smashed my head into the ground, I knew I was a goner.

I’d been lured into a trap. They knew we were here. They knew…

I shouldn’t have spoken to her like that, I thought to myself as my thigh burned, and my head swirled. Now she’s on her own.

She’s alone, and she hates me. She thinks…

My head collided with the floor again, and the world plunged into darkness.

* * *

“Hey…”

I stirred, my eyes taking their sweet time adjusting to the brightness.

“Hurry up, and take the photo already, Gunnar.”

I blinked, the camera was heavy in my hands. The sun shone overhead, and the air was full of the salty tang of the ocean. Focusing on the woman in front of me, my limbs went numb.

“Madison?”

The wind was tossing her chestnut hair around, and a strand caught on her pink lips. She swiped it away and laughed, the sound pulling at my heart.

“You’ve had too much sun,” she said. “Just one more picture, and we’ll go back to the car, I promise.”

“Where am I?” I murmured.

We were standing on a bluff overlooking the ocean. I could see the cliffs in the distance, hear the crash of the waves below, and feel the sun on my shoulders. I remembered this day. The last we’d had together.

I also remembered being on a train with Sloane.

“It’s okay,” Madison said. “It’s been a long time.”

She rose to her feet and walked toward me, her eyes full of understanding I didn’t recognize. Her fingers closed around mine, taking the camera from me.

“A picture won’t fill the hole in your heart,” she whispered, the wind tugging at her words.

“What did you say?” I asked with a frown.

Her gaze met mine. “She needs you, Gunnar.”

“Who?”

Madison smiled, her hands cupping my face. “It’s okay to let me go. It’s okay to love again.”

“But…”

The light dimmed around us, and I shivered, my thigh throbbing with a hot pain. My knee buckled, but I didn’t fall. My gaze was caught on Madison’s, and she held me upright.

“Seven years,” I whispered.

She nodded. “It’s time, don’t you think?”

“I…”

My vision blurred, and I groaned, my head lolling from side to side. Blinking, the haze cleared.

The ground moved beneath me. I was surrounded by empty luggage racks. The sound of wheels clicking over tracks brought clarity back, and I lifted my head. My hand was heavy, and the knife fell to the floor with a clatter.

My fingers stuck to the hilt, my blood tacky to the touch. Ginger had put the knife into my hand to make it look like I’d attempted suicide. The perfect cover-up, but he was a complete dumbass. He hadn’t made sure I was dead first.

He probably thought the blood loss would get me. His need for a slow painful death as his revenge would be his undoing.

Everyone knew you made sure your victim had no pulse before you left them to rot.

Everyone knew…

Groaning, I picked up the knife, my hand shaking. Blood was all over the floor, but there wasn’t much I could do about it. The leg of my jeans was soaked, and a hole was torn in the fabric where the blade had stabbed through.

Hauling myself up, my head spun, and my entire body felt clammy. Glancing at the floor, I swallowed hard as I saw how much blood was left behind on the floor.

No time for that, I thought. I have to get to Sloane. I have to get upstairs…

Outside the luggage compartment, the train car was empty. Our fight would’ve drawn a lot of eyes, and the fact nobody was here made my heart twist. The car was empty. We were the only people in it. No one was coming.

They’d lured us into a trap.

Dragging myself up the stairs, I stumbled into the hallway and back to our compartment. Wrenching open the door, I grimaced as I saw our stuff strewn all over the seat and floor. Immediately, I knew she’d run, and if she had, they had her. There was no way in hell Ginger was here alone.

After what we’d done to them, they would try to take her alive. Make her pay. Tear her apart just like they’d done to Madison.

Sloane.

Closing myself in the room, I tore off my jeans, ignoring the pain in my thigh and the throbbing in my head. I pushed it all aside as I bound my leg as best I could with a pair of Sloane’s tiny leggings. Tying the fabric in place, I pulled on a pair of clean jeans and washed my hands in the basin, cleaning the knife Ginger had left behind. Both guns were gone, so it was all I had.

When I was done, I opened the door and scanned the hallway. I had to find her before we reached the next station, or she would be gone forever.

Glancing to the right, I knew she wouldn’t have gone that way. That was the way she thought I’d gone. Turning left, I dragged myself down the hall and into the next car.

When I found Ginger and his buddies, they were going to wish they’d never been born.