Page 58 of Ryder's War

God only knew how much he spent to get those fake IDs and pull the kits together. Each makeup bag represented his determination to keep her alive, to give her options when Stuart left her none. The meticulous planning spoke of sleepless nights and quiet terror—a father's desperate attempt to protect his daughter from a monster wearing a wedding ring.

Her best guess, between that and her new vehicle, he’d spent upwards of sixty grand. Each time she jumped, she sold her vehicle and bought something slightly less valuable to account for the depreciation of her trade-in.

This was her fourth cycle, and it was becoming a comfortable and familiar pattern in her life. Being with Ryder didn’t count, since he’d bought her cell phone, and she moved to such a small town that no one was in danger of recognizing her.

Clutching the book-sized pouch to her chest, Tiffany realized that her father had put a lot of time and effort into devising a way for her to survive. So far, it had actually worked. She hated using the escape hatches he’d made for herbecause he passed away last year after a short struggle with lung cancer and these small gifts of love and concern were her only remaining connections to him.

The worse part of jumping this time was leaving behind both Ryder and any hope of having a normal life. Her college degree would also no longer line up with the name on her new photo ID.

Pulling out twenty dollars, Tiffany drove to a local chain restaurant and got something to eat. Sitting safely ensconced in a huge booth, she pulled out a new burner phone from her pouch and plugged it into the wall to charge. When the phone was mostly charged, she dialed her mother’s number, tossed her garbage, and got a refill as the phone rang.

“Hello.” Her mother’s voice sounded tired and anxious.

“Mom, it’s me. Are you okay?”

“Yes. It’s so good to hear from you, dear.”

“I had to jump again,” she told her, cutting to the chase. “Stuart found out where I was. He started sending me little reminders of our time together. It was all kinds of creepy. How have you been?”

Her mother groaned but accepted the change in topic. “I’m well. Did you get a job working for a garage?”

Heading out to her vehicle, Tiffany set her coffee down and unlocked the car with her key fob. “No, but a man I’ve been sheltering with worked for a garage. Why do you ask?”

“Two older men came around asking questions about you. They left a card for a garage in South Dakota.”

“I know the owner, Darwin Dawson. He may look crazy, but he’s really nice,” Tiffany told her so she wouldn’t worry.

“The two men who came here were Hickory and Wen. They say they’re worried about you.”

Smiling to herself, she wondered what possessed the two men to go all the way to her hometown. Taking a sip of her coffee, she opened the door. “You can trust them. The second man is Ven, not Wen,” she corrected her mother. “He’s Ryder’s father.”

“Ryder is the one you were staying with? Those men…they look a little rough.”

Tiffany closed her eyes, imagining her mother’s reaction to seeing two huge, leather-clad bikers at her door. She must have been terrified. “They may look scary, but like I said, they were real nice to me. I didn’t have a falling out withthem or anything. I just need to keep moving to stay away from Stuart.”

“I know you do. Your father worried about you obsessively. In fact, he gathered some information he thought would help put Stuart behind bars. Should I share it with the police or send it to you? He always worried that it wasn’t enough, but you can’t stay on the run your whole life,” she said what Tiffany already knew.

Settling into the driver’s seat, Tiffany thought it over. Her mom was one hundred percent correct about her not being able to continue running her whole life. “Hang onto it for now, Mom. I need time to think.”

“All right, dear, that’s just what I’ll do. Stay safe and call me when you can.”

“I love you, Mom.”

“Love you, too, dear. Be careful.”

“I will.”

Even as she spoke the words, an idea was brewing in the back of Tiffany’s mind that would make being careful an impossible promise to make. Staring at the glove box, she knew Ryder had long since cleaned and replaced her small handgun.

Reaching out, she unlocked the glove box and grabbed the small gun safe. Sliding her finger over the biometric scanning plate, she opened thelid and stared at the sleek handgun and extra clip nestled safely in the foam housing.

Her fingers traced the gun safe's edge as an unfamiliar image crystallized—not of running, but of standing her ground. The weight of the weapon matched the weight of this new resolve forming in her chest. Why should she always be the one running scared?

Quickly closing the case, she heard the lock click automatically into place. Shoving it back into the glove box, she speedily locked the small compartment. Starting the engine, she wondered what it would be like to have a life free of running.

Her blood boiled as she remembered missing her father’s funeral and all the other special family occasions since she went on the lam. Stuart was still enjoying the holidays with his crazy-ass family. How was that fair?

Since being around Ryder, Tiffany had begun reassessing different parts of her life. She’d spent years acting like a hapless little victim, allowing Stuart to stalk and torment her. What would happen on the day she finally stopped accepting the role that crazy man foisted upon her?

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