Page 71 of Ride Hard
Sloane
If I’d knownall it took to get Chaser to give a shit was to save his life, then I would’ve done it a lotsooner.
We endured an hour drive in a truck that smelled like dirt and stale sweat. Chaser sat in the middle, separating me from the greasy hands of Tucker Cawley, who turned out to be a thirty-something-year-old farm boy who’d forgotten what soapwas.
By the time we were dropped off at the Greyhound bus stop at Tucumcari, I was ready to cut anyone who got in my way. My mood was so foul even Chaser kept me at arm’slength.
My legs ached, my feet felt like they were covered in blisters, and my eyes were scratchy from lack of sleep. Then there was the crick in my neck from sleeping in the doorway of the post office in the middle of nowhere. Long story short, I felt like a hunk ofshit.
We lingered outside of the McDonalds the post office lady thought was so special, watching cars inch through the drive-thru.
“Who did you call back at the post office?” I asked, my wits finally coming back after wolfing down acheeseburger.
“I spoke to your father,” Chaser replied, avoiding eyecontact.
He looked like shit too. His clothes were rumpled, his hair was messier than ever, and the stubble on his chin was looking more like a beard with every passing hour. The knees of his jeans were ripped and dirty like mine,too.
My mouth fell open. “And you’re telling me this nowbecause?”
“Your friend hasn’t let yougo.”
“Yvette?” I seethed, resisting the urge to slap Chaser around the face. “He threatened her, didn’the?”
“She needs to drop it,” he drawled. “You’re the only one whocan—”
“Fuck you!” I exclaimed, causing passers-by to glance warily atus.
“Don’t fuck me, fuck yourfather.”
“You’re cut from the same cloth. You’re a killer, Chaser. Plain andsimple.”
“I only kill whenthreatened.”
“That’s a lie. You kill when ordered to like the little bitch youare.”
“Then why am I warning you about your friend now?” He raised his eyebrows. “Think about who you’re taking your shit outon.”
I turned my back to him and scanned the street for a payphone, even though they were a dying piece oftechnology.
“That’s the million-dollar question,” I said. “Who are you? More importantly, who are you to me?The mysterydeepens.”
“We don’t have time forthis.”
“We never have time when things get too hard, Chaser. Don’t worry, I know how men like youoperate.”
“Unlikely.”
I snorted, not wanting to argue about the fact I felt like I was stuck between suspected unrequited love and a father whose motives were even more mysterious than the fucking pyramids inEgypt.
The game was changing so fast I could hardly keep up. Why was it so important to my father that I disappear? Even if Yvette wasn’t on the scene, would it change what he had in store for me? Probably not, which meant I had to be ready to play whatever cards hedealt.
Could I count on Chaser? Who knew. That man was on and off like a lightswitch.
There was a Shell gas station down the street, and knowing it was my best option, I began walking, the sound of Chaser’s footsteps thudding behind me only adding to myirritation.
“We’ve got twenty minutes until the bus gets here,” he said as I powered toward the automaticdoors.
“Get off my back, Chaser.” I flipped him the bird over my shoulder as I stepped into thestore.
