I should’ve made a break for it, but I didn’t know where the hell we were. Outside, there was nothing but trees and road.

And it wasn’t until Chaser had turned on the shower I realized he’d stolen my money and my purse along with my fake ID. He was a real piece of work, that one.

I had zero illusions that this was one of those fun cross-country road trips. We weren’t going to Dollywood, or hunting for country music stars in Nashville, or stopping by the Grand Canyon and throwing a few coins in the slots at a Las Vegas casino. I was Chaser’s cargo, for lack of a better word.

Despite the eventful night and long-ass day, I wasn’t tired. I would usually be awake right about now, pulling beers behind the bar at Teasers.

Yvette must be worried about me. When I don’t show tomorrow, she’ll beg the boss to check the security footage. Then they’ll see the moment where Pube Face attacked me out back.

Rolling my eyes at the darkened roof, I studied the rise and fall of the popcorn ceiling. I knew the last thing the club owners would want was police sniffing around. Not when there was a borderline illegal brothel operating in the private rooms.

No one was coming for me. At least, no one good.

Rolling over, I squinted, trying to make out Chaser’s features in the dark. He’d made a makeshift bed on the floor out of the spare blankets and pillows in the closet. I’d complained until I was blue in the face, but he’d still turned out the lights not long after the sun had dipped below the horizon.

His chest rose and fell, the gun lying on top of his sternum, his right hand curled around the grip. At this angle, he didn’t look like the hard-ass biker bounty hunter I assumed he was. He looked like…a boy. Nothing but a boy with a toy gun.

Sighing, I rolled over onto my other side. I was stuck for the moment—until I could swipe my money and ID back off him—but it wasn’t that bad. Was it? He hadn’t tried to lay his hands on me, which was a first. And he’d saved me from Pube Face.

Maybe I could convince him to take me some place else, far away from my dad.

“Sloane.”

My eyes cracked open, and I moaned. Chaser was standing over me, backlit by the window, which was full of dawn-like rays of sunshine. It felt like I’d only just fallen asleep.

“Get up,” he barked, pulling the comforter off me.

“Hey!” I scrambled, trying to yank it back up.

Luckily, I’d slept in a T-shirt long enough to cover all of my assets, so there was nothing much for him to see. Didn’t stop his gaze flickering to my bare legs, though.

“You’ve got ten minutes. By the time I get back from the office, I want you ready.”

Before I could open my mouth, he strode from the room and slammed the door closed behind him. A few doors down, a dog barked. So that explained the short white and ginger hair stuck to the comforter. Doggy motel.

Snatching the clothes I’d laid out last night, I darted into the shower and had a quick scrub. If I wasn’t out and dressed in ten, there was no doubt in my mind Chaser would be in here dragging me out by the hair…even if I was naked and covered in soap suds. What a spectacle that would be. I wondered if it would get him hard.

I dressed in a pair of black skinny jeans, a beat-up black T-shirt—that was grayer these days—with a picture of an American eagle printed on the front, my faded denim jacket with the ripped pockets, and boots. Glancing in the mirror, I fluffed up my hair and pouted. Glancing at the little pouch of makeup, I rolled my eyes. What was the point?

When I emerged from the bathroom, Chaser wasn’t back yet, so I grabbed my bag and went outside. Standing by the car, I surveyed the lot and the road beyond.

There was nothing but pavement and patchy forest. There had to be a town nearby for there to be a motel of this size, but it wasn’t much of anything. If I ran now, I might be able to hitch a ride on a tractor and get dropped off at the local doomsday cult compound. Considering where Chaser was taking me, I wasn’t sure which one was worse.

The blinkers flashed orange, and the locks clicked as they disengaged. Glancing around, I saw Chaser through the window of the office, chatting up some old lady. Wrenching open the door, I slipped into the front passenger seat.

Opening the glove compartment, I rifled through the contents, but I found nothing useful. Not even a spare pair of sunglasses. Like he would leave me out here alone if he didn’t already know there wasn’t a shred of hope to be found tucked under the front seat.

The driver’s side door opened, and Chaser got in.

“Looking for something?” he asked.

“I was looking for something to bash in your skull with,” I retorted.

“Good luck with that.” He put the key into the ignition and turned the engine on. Throwing his arm back, he curled his hand around the corner of my seat and looked over his shoulder as he backed out of the parking space.

He turned onto the road, which looked a little like a highway, and gunned it.

“Put your seatbelt on,” he ordered, reaching over me and tugging at the belt. His forearm brushed over my breasts, and I tensed, a rush of something I didn’t want to feel zapping through my nipples and into the danger zone.

Slapping his arm away, I wrenched the seatbelt across my body and clipped it in place. “Happy?”

“I’m far from fuckin’ happy,” he drawled.

Glaring at him, I studied the side of his face, searching for a flicker of something I could manipulate, but all I found was hostility. There was annoyance around the corners of his mouth but mainly hostility. Great.

“What are you looking at?” he snapped.

“So if you work for my father, you’re in his gang of losers,” I declared. “You don’t look like a biker.”

“Looks can be deceiving. Who knew all that bitch was under all that?” He waved his hand at me, circling around and around.

“This is a reaction to all that.” I made the same motion but ended with giving him the middle-finger salute.

“How old are you?”

“Why do you want to know? Guys like you who ride in biker gangs don’t have the word jailbait in your vocabulary. Any hole will do. Am I right?”

“Underage pussy doesn’t do it for me.”

“Yeah, right.”

He narrowed his eyes and turned back to the road. “You’re twenty-five.”

I snorted and kicked my feet up onto the dash.

“Get your feet down,” he snapped, shoving my boots. “Last thing we need is the cops pulling us over.”

“Where’s your bike, huh? And your leathers? Since when do bikers ferry around cargo in a Honda Accord?”

“I know you’re trying to bait me, sweetheart,” he drawled, not taking his eyes off the road. “It won’t work, so do yourself a favor and shut your mouth.”

“So?”

“So what?”

“Where’s your bike?”

He glanced at me from out the corner of his eye but didn’t reply.

“Fortitude Motorcycle Club is full of shit. Do you even know what fortitude means?” I went on.

“Courage in pain and adversity.” He deadpanned me.

“Are you really that brainwashed?” I asked, curling my lip. “You’re spouting off the company motto like it’s religion.”

“It’s a family.”

I snorted, then laughed. That was the most epic piece of shit I’d ever heard in my life. A motorcycle club was a family. What kind of fucked up brotherhood that believed in shit like courage through adversity dealt drugs to addicts and broke up legitimate families through their need to pad their wallets? That wasn’t a family. Not by a long shot.

“Some family,” I declared, wiping a tear from my eye. “You’re all a bunch of hypocritical bastards.”

“You wouldn’t know, sweetheart.”

“Yeah? I was forced to grow up with that shit. You aren’t a woman, so you would never understand what it’s like to be forced to run with the dick club.”

He was grinding his teeth, signaling he didn’t agree with a word I was saying.

“You believe in it all, don’t you? The motto, the brotherhood, the criminal activity. You don’t give a shit who you hurt.”

“Shut up, Sloane,” he barked.

“So when a father tries to use his little girl to get to his rival, as in whore her out like a common piece of trash with a hole ripe for the fucking, that’s okay? The precious daughter of your king, the fortitude in Fortitude MC, is just a piece of ass that’s only useful when it suits him. And you want to take me back to that?”

Chaser’s hands tightened on the steering wheel.

“Daddy’s got a job for you, sweetheart,” I drawled. “Suck that man’s cock, and maybe he’ll pledge his allegiance. Let him do you up the ass, and he’ll give me his entire territory. Note I said me and not us. What would I get if I said no, Chaser?” He scowled but didn’t take the bait. “What do you think he would’ve done?”

“I said shut the fuck up.”

“He would’ve knocked my teeth out and locked me in my room without food or water for a week, that’s what he would’ve done.” I snarled, anger welling up so hard I almost felt like snatching the wheel and running us off the road.

“If you don’t shut the fuck up, I will throw you in the trunk.”

“You fuckers are meant to protect your women. Not whore out your own children.” I snorted. “I wish that’s where it ended.”

Everyone was out to get to the leader of Fortitude MC through me, either by winning my favor or doing me harm. Once I’d learned that harsh truth, no one had ever gotten close again. It wasn’t worth the pain and misery of being used. Everyone and everything in life had an ulterior motive called personal gain. No one gave a shit about other people’s feelings. Even love was a sham.

My mom loved my dad until it got her killed. That was how much it mattered.

Chaser could go fuck himself sideways with a rusty hacksaw.

He was hot as all get-out, but he wasn’t worth the hassle. Cracking his code would take a lifetime, and besides, he hadn’t shown me any redeeming qualities so far. Saving my life didn’t count when he was doing it under orders.

Yvette had said it jokingly, about taking Chaser out for a ride to relieve some tension, but there was no way I would let him near me now. He’d just revealed his true colors, and they were the shade of Fortitude MC. The shade of blood and the all-mighty dollar.

Chaser was saving me from a terrible fate, but he was delivering me to one just as shitty. He wasn’t turning around or letting me go. He was a sheep who would follow orders or die trying. I’d tried to bait him and win him to my side, but all I’d done was piss him off.

Went to show you could never trust a pretty face.

Sighing, I turned toward the window and stared at the passing landscape. It was time to formulate an escape plan.

“What? Giving up so soon?” Chaser asked.

“You’re the one who just told me to shut the fuck up,” I retorted. “You love the fight, Chaser. And the things you love? I would rather die than give them to you.”