Page 32 of Desert King

“Hello.” I’m deflated. Flat. A balloon who just had a pin stuck in it.

“Mystery woman. The house is yours.”

“Seriously?”

“If that screen grab isn’t faked.”

“It’s not.”

“Well then, little lady we have a deal. Get your butt to the lawyer in downtown Santa Fe by noon. He’s expectin’ ya’. I’ll meet you there with the paperwork. If you don’t mind, I’ll represent you and the seller.”

“I don’t mind. But if you play me, I will bust your balls.”

He laughs heartily. My eyes narrow. Edge put me in one hell of a mood. But knowing this slice of heaven is about to have my name stamped all over it helps me feel better. I walk over to the hot tub, inspecting it. It’ll take some work, but it seems to be functional.

I wonder if I can garden here in the shade. Heck, I’ve got a truck now to haul soil. In my mind’s eye—my future takes shape. The future I’m self-creating.

Humming under my breath, I make my way back to the truck. When I reach the main road, I unhook the for-sale sign, taking it down from the post. This bitch is sold.

* * *

My hand is crampedfrom signing so much paperwork. My bank account is about to be down to a penny, but I feel like a million bucks.

I’m planning on going back to my gloomy rental, piling all my bags and boxes back in the truck and camping out in the yard of my new home this weekend. Jenny will pay me at the end of next week in cash, so I have about eight dollars to use on coffee and tacos until then.

Placing my stack of papers on the seat, I pull out. There are about four cars in front of me waiting for the light. The sound of familiar engines rumble from my left. One by one, six men on bikes zoom across the intersection. The glint of the sun bounces off the chrome, almost blinding me.

My hands clench on the wheel. I didn’t miss Tarak’s bronze skin and broad shoulders as he raced past.

My fingers tap the wheel. Instead of going straight like I should, I turn right, tailing them. I keep a discreet distance. My tanks on full. Fuck it. I follow them simply because I can. Heck, my new home is in the direction they’re going anyway…. Out of town. One of the rider’s pulls over to the shoulder as the rest keep going. I sink in my seat, hoping I’m not made. When I pass, it shakes me when I see it’s Tarak. The man looks utterly broken. His face is etched in pain. His biceps are two huge bronze works of art, decorated in bright turquoise tattoos. He’s too busy staring at a white cross to even pay attention to me gawking as I roll by.

I’m confused. I can’t stand the man but I of all people know that every person has a story. His chapters aren’t all good ones either. I pull over at an RV park, parking my truck behind a row of campers.

RV’s have soared in popularity since COVID. People can travel and see the states while staying in their own traveling hotel room.

Eight minutes later, Tarak races by. I hold my breath, count to fifty, and pull out of my hiding spot.

I follow the men from a distance again. They pass my dirt road, driving between two mountain ranges and enter the Interstate. It’s hard to keep my distance and not be caught out. But luckily a few truckers are on the road. I let a Walmart truck slip past me and then one from Costco. A few cars enter the highway.

The sun is getting lower and lower. I won’t trail them much longer but maybe if Edge thinks I’m doing what he wants he’ll back off until I can make it to my hideaway home. I’ll lie and tell him and Tarak I’m going back to Florida. But I do need a new ride. One that isn’t stolen or belonging to some pimp from an MC. When the time comes, I’ll leave the truck with the keys in it at the Triple X for him to fetch.

Up ahead, I see them pull off down a dirt road. My foot presses the brake. I pull over and wait ten minutes. I’ll be caught out for sure with no buffer between me and them. I shake my head at their arrogance. They have no idea the prey has been hunting the predator for over an hour.

Finally, I dare easing back out onto the highway. I turn off past the mile maker, gingerly inching the truck forward. They’ve already gone past the straight away. The road narrows. Nestled between huge rocks and boulders. My head hits the top off the roof as I go over a huge bump followed by a crater. I need to stop or risk blowing my tires.

I pull over to the side parking the truck parallel to a large cluster of rocks. There’s nothing out here. He’s up to something. I know it. Maybe if I bust him doing something, I can use it as leverage to get him off my case.

The sun’s almost setting. I grab my water bottle and the old flashlight I found in the glove box. I follow the trail, seeing the tire marks from their bikes.

“Bingo,” I breathe, hiding behind a tree. Six bikes are lined up, parked against the rocky base of the hillside.

Crouching low, I dart between rocks and clumps of trees until I reach them. They still feel hot to the touch. The low sounds of men laughing floats down from above with a waft of cigarette smoke.

“What are they up to?” This is a weird ass place to have a road break. Biting my lip, I creep forward into the darkness toward where they are.

I creep up the hillside, crouching low and praying no rattlesnakes are near. I recognize Roger stoking a fire. The other men pass out beers while their backs rest against rocks. Bedrolls are spread out.

“What they fuck are they doing?” My tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth, my nails scrape into the ground. I try to bite back the moan from escaping but can’t. My eyes are glued to Tarak as he takes his shirt off. Next, he unbuckles his belt, shucking off his jeans. He’s a warrior. All bronze skin covered in ink… some tattoos—ancient symbols…maybe Apache words inked across his heart. His torso is thick and broad his stomach flat and the V between his groin is deep. His legs are huge and hairless.

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