Page 28 of Ride Hard
He raised his finger to his lips, signaling me to keep quiet. Then he raised his hand, revealing a gun plastered init.
Aiming, he fired once, the boom echoing across the open space, and a split second later, a man grunted in pain. It was this loudoomphon the other side of the wall that made me almost crap my pants.He’d been soclose.
“Chaser…” I cried, not knowing which way torun.
“Stay down.” He was a handful of steps away from me, but it felt like a million miles. Rounding the corner, he moved toward me, the gun heldhigh.
I was such a mess. I thought I could run from Chaser and take care of myself? Fat fucking chance. I’d turned to water the moment that bullet zoomed past my face. I was a coward. A little girl waiting for a man to saveme.
Grasping my hand, Chaser pulled me from out behind the wall and into the open. We took one step, and movement flashed as a man leaped out from behind the old sign where he’d been taking cover. He raised his gun and fired. Just like that. Nohesitation.
Chaser reacted instantly. He shoved me to the side, and I fell, my knees hitting the ground as the bullet flew past. He fired back.Pop, pop,pop.
“Sloane.” Chaser held out his hand, and I gasped. Blood was trickling down his arm, covering his palm andfingers.
“You’rebleeding.”
“Get up. We have to go.Now.”
“Where’s the otherguy?”
“Dead.” He nodded across the yard where a man was crumpled against the chain-link fence. “Do you get itnow?”
“I get it!” I exclaimed. “Okay? I fucking getit.”
Scrambling to my feet, I felt like throwing up, but I followed Chaser to the car, aware of the dull sound of approaching sirens. It had been self-defense, but Chaser had still opened fire and killed two men. Suddenly, the thought of him being locked up sent a wave of nausea throughme.
That was when he stumbled and bashed against the car, leaving a smear of blood on thewindow.
Chaser had beenshot.
He’d pushed me out of the way and had literally taken a bullet forme.
“Give me the keys,” I demanded, springing intoaction.
“Leave it,” hebarked.
“You’ve been shot, you dumb ass, and if you can’t hear that, those are sirens. Give me the fuckingkeys!”
Hissing, he tossed them at me, and I caught them against my chest. Rushing around the hood, I got into the driver’s seat and shoved the key into the ignition. The moment Chaser shut the passenger side door, I turned the engineover.
The car roared into life, and I maneuvered us through the gas pumps and toward the road. Fishtailing out onto the street, I slammed my foot on the gas, and the car jolted forward, the tires squealing before propelling us away from the gasstation.
Chaser hissed as he grasped his arm, tearing away the torn material of his jacket so he could check thedamage.
“What now?” I asked, my hands, and practically everything else, shaking. “How bad is it? Do we need to go to ahospital?”
“No. No hospitals. They have to report gunshot wounds to the cops.” He hissed as he poked and prodded at hisarm.
“But what if…” He was bleeding a lot. Like bucketloads.
“I won’t bleed out,” he retorted. “It’s just a fleshwound.”
As he shucked off his jacket and tore strips out of the lining, I loosened my grip on the wheel and focused on the road ahead. When he grunted in obvious pain, I glanced back and saw he’d tied a tourniquet just above hisbicep.
“Where do we go from here?” I asked, checking the mirrors, thankful the road was empty behindus.
“North,” he said, settling back into the seat. “Gonorth.”
