Page 28 of Road Rash

Inside.

Where I’m going to die.

“You’re gonna pay for that stunt.” He drops my hair. My scalp burns. Slim begins unbuckling his belt.

What does that mean I’m going to pay? Does he plan to whip me? Violate me? Hell no! I use his distraction to my advantage and run. Throwing anything I can get my hands on. A lamp. The side table the lamp set on. I flip chairs and the dining table to hinder him while I run for the closet. I wrap my hand with the hem of my sleepshirt and smash through the glass of the gun cabinet.

I pull the shotgun and check to see if it’s loaded. No shells. I reach for the ammo box stored above the guns but am spun around by Slim’s hand squeezing my arm hard enough to break the skin with his nails. He must not have seen the shotgun in my hand, and that’s to my advantage. I hold the barrel swinging with everything in me like it’s a baseball bat and his head is the ball.

The stock cracks against his head. He grunts once and falls. I don’t wait to see if I’ve killed him or just knocked him out and sprint from the closet, leaping over the upturned dining table, dodging the tumbled chairs in my escape out the front door. The only thing I do stop for is to wrench the key to his bike from the ignition then take off running down the dirty drive again. The sandals fly from my feet and I’m running on skin and bandages.

I know I hear bike pipes now. Closer. Their beautiful rumbling breaks the still of the night. I turn toward the sound running. There’s a stitch in my side. My lungs burn. I keep on pushing myself. My legs begin to fatigue. I keep on pushing. Pushing. Pushing.

And dear Lord, it’s the most beautiful sight in the world, those headlights tearing up the road. Pipes. Several. And a truck. Like Dane’s. Dane has a truck. He’d come to my rescue in a truck. Even if it’s not him, that’s too many bikers to not be in the area for the rally. I stop running. Jumping repeatedly, waving my arms in the air.

The truck doesn’t appear to see me. I leap out of the way right before it plows into me. The tires squeal as the driver slams on the brakes, causing the whole vehicle to skid. Bikers surround me. Dane jumps out of the truck’s driver’s side full-on running for me.

He picks me up, wrapping his arms tight around my waist, spinning me while peppering my face with kisses. “Jonesie,” he says between lip smacks. “Baby…”

Okay, so I do cry this time. I just let those tears fall freely. I’m so glad to see him. To see all the men.

Rex approaches us. There’s a hardness to his face and a sadness to his eyes. I don’t know what that’s about. “Where is he?” he asks.

“Cabin. I knocked him out with the butt of a shotgun.”

“Unloaded?” Mad Man asks.

I nod. “Yes, but the ammo box is there. If he gets it open…” I trail off because Dane has forced his lips to mine again. I love this man with everything in me. Down to my soul love him. They don’t need to hear more words anyway. They’re smart, highly capable men. Bikers. Outlaws. They know what they’re doing.

Surprisingly, Dane doesn’t follow. He keeps me close, tucked under his arm while the others tear off after Slim. He lifts me. My arms wrap around his neck. My legs around his waist. And we walk toward the truck. As he carries me, Dane pulls his phone from his jeans and dials 9-1-1.

It’s going to be okay. I’m safe. I’m with Dane.

We’re together and I’m safe.

I want to live life.

If we’re together then I want us to be together.

No more putting it off.

Tonight, he’s mine.

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