Page 48 of In It for the Long Ride

“Shit.” I opened the door and slid out.

My hands shook so badly that I couldn’t have called Carl even if it was necessary. All I could do was walk toward it.

Things had to end. Nothing was forever. I knew that.

I was a strong woman.

I learned that shit a long time ago…

And yet, I had never walked toward anything so slowly in all my life.

Tears filled my eyes and emotion swelled in my throat until I choked and gagged.

Chapter 21

Montana

“You gonna tellme why we’re meeting in a fuckin’ corn field?” Easy roared.

“Because the mother fucker was afraid that he’d have to pay the hazardous waste people to come clean the floor again if put me in an actual room with them.” Mak answered just before we turned at the four way.

It didn’t matter how many days passed, or how many times I rolled through that section of road. I couldn’t see the location and not picture it with that big plume of Anhydrous smoke and what I’d recall the moments of Anthony’s death.

Easy must have had the same problem, the minute we were turned he let the engine scream. We reached a century before we were out of town.

It suited me just fine. At this point, it didn’t matter whether it was a bump at a hundred miles per hour, or a bullet that took me out, I wasn’t gonna leave this world in a pretty fashion. None of us were. That was guaranteed the day we sat down at the same table with the mob.

We rode in silence the rest of the way. A quarter mile from the rendezvous, a black sedan pulled out behind us. Bandit and Mak fell back, and in my peripheral, I saw Makaveli take the pistol out of his waistband.

“Hold!” I roared over the sound of the pack.

Thankfully, he did, and so did the car. It hung back a few lengths and trailed us into the field to join the other two black sedans that were waiting on us.

We shut off our engines about thirty feet from the cars and dismounted. I heard the doors sounding as Demetri and his men climbed out to join us. Easy and I stopped with Bandit at the middle ground, Mak on the other hand, charged toward Demitri.

The smirk never left the mobster’s face, nor did his eyes leave Mak.

“Mak!” I barked.

“Michael,” Demetri greeted, sticking out his hand.

Mak drew back and it was like a train hit him. The man flew five or six feet to Demetri’s right as Damien Valentino plowed into him at full speed. Demetri didn’t glance their way, his gaze lifted to me, and he continued toward the three of us with one hand raised so his enforcers didn’t intervene.

They were like two animals locking horns. I didn’t realize Damien had it in him, but he gave as good as he got. They rolled and beat on each other.

“I, uh… Well, I guess that should be your first clue that we won’t be dissecting our women at your behest.” I cleared my throat and glanced back at him.

He was smiling like a fucking cat. The shit was creepy. I stared into my son's eyes for so long, without meaning to, that his expression subtly shifted with confusion. It was the first time I’d ever seen anything chip away at his confidence.

“I’ve had a change of heart, actually. As it turns out, I don’t have to make threats or demands. Some women bear marks of ownership willingly. Who would have thought?” He took a glossy, folded up magazine page out of his coat pocket and shoved it at me.

When I unfolded it, we were confronted by a professional modeling shot of Joplin in a thong bikini. Her left asscheek displayed a prominent V for the world to see.

“You mother fucker,” Easy grunted, throwing a shot at Demetri.

I threw myself between them and the mob boss stepped back with a laugh.

“Aht, aht. Don’t get all fisticuff on me now, boys, you have things to collect back at the clubhouse.” He stopped taunting Easy and looked at me, sobering on a dime. “My guns?

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