Page 2 of Ride Long
“This isn’t the time to be an asshole,” I snapped. “I saw the photo, you said ‘wife,’ and I flipped. What was I supposed to do? We were on the run, I didn’t know who to trust, and…” I wanted to run away with him and be happily in love forever. “You didn’t make iteasy.”
“Nothing in life is easy, Sloane. Predators rule. Loveis—”
“Love always wins,” I interrupted, refusing to look at him. “I have to believethat.”
“What do you want fromme?”
My hands tightened on the steeringwheel.
“You,” I murmured. “We’re almost there. The last thing I want to do is arguebefore…”
Chaser grunted, his hand finding my thigh. The contact made me shiver, our dysfunctional relationship fast becoming the least of our worries. We would have time to figure us out. We had to. I needed to. Fortitude wouldn’t be forever.Chaser said he’d go anywhere withme.
“T-minus five minutes,” I said as I took the exit that would take us toward the compound. “Any last words ofwisdom?”
“Don’t break eyecontact.”
“Don’t plan on it.” I flicked on the indicator and turned down a side street, leaving the trafficbehind.
“You know your way around,” Chaserremarked.
“Bad memories alwaysstick.”
Ahead, I could see the Fortitude compound lurking out of the half-light. It was bathed in the orange glow of the street lamps overhead, but the sign outside was lit.Fortitude Customswas painted in bright blue over the double garage, and a graffiti-style mural was plastered over the entire side wall. Motorcycles, skulls, flames, and the crossed swords that the club had taken for its emblem when they’d first formed over thirty years ago. Beyond was the factory-styled building that housed the rest of the operation. Bedrooms, common rooms, kitchen, storage, the works. Not all members of the club lived here, but a majority did, along with their women and whores…for lack of a betterword.
Chaser gave my thigh one last reassuring squeeze as I turned off the road and passed the lineup of motorcycles out front. I brought the car to a stop inside the garage, my skin crawling when I saw several pairs of eyes turn towardus.
Big, mean, beefed up men rose to their feet, the clang of tools echoing their deliberate steps toward their unexpected house guests. Several reached for weapons, and I swallowed a ball of fear that had risen in the back of mythroat.
Chaser opened the door and practically fell out onto the grease-stained concrete. The man at the front of the group reached out and pulled him to his feet, not even commenting when Chaser let out a grunt ofpain.
Climbing out of the car, I rested my hand on the roof and narrowed my eyes at the group of men who’d just seemed to realize I was standing there. My skin crawled as I was subjected to the ultimate staringcontest.
There were six of them, all big, dirty, and cut from the same dangerous asshole cloth. Tattoos, scruffy beards, scars, muscles, flannel shirts, leather vests, bandanas… The uniform hadn’t changed one bit, but the more I settled into my surroundings, the more I realized the compound had evolved and got itself renovated. The garage was a bona fide business now, turning out paint jobs, tune-ups, customizations—the whole nine yards. It was a whole pimp your motorcycle extravaganza. I’d bet these bastards were incorporated and used it as a front to launder cash for their main sources of income, which were drugs, gambling, and intimidation services. Dial-a-beating dotcom.
“Chaser,” the man at the front of the group said. “We were starting to think some fucker slit yourthroat.”
“Good luck withthat.”
“Some entrance,” he said before giving me the once-over. “Thisher?”
Chaser nodded. “Where’sButcher?”
The man whistled, and a scrawny guy at the rear of the garage ran off, disappearing into the compoundbeyond.
Butcher?I curled my lip, knowing it was in my best interests to keep my mouthshut.
“Deluca. Rocket. Get Chaserinside.”
The man’s gaze fixed on me, and I stared right back. His bulk was intimidating and paired with his full beard, hard lips, and fully tattooed body, you had one mean-looking piece of work. Most people would’ve shied away, pissed their pants, or made a break for it. But I wasn’t mostpeople.
For a full minute, no one said a single thing. The two guys known as Deluca and Rocket hesitated, and Chaser leaned against the car, watching me closely. Weapons were still drawn and hadn’t been put away when they realized their brother was home with hiscargo.
Crunchtime.
“I saw her put a bullet in some fucker’s head,” Chaser said, his voice loud in the silent garage. “Didn’tblink.”
“And she didn’t want to put one in yours, too?” the man asked, still staring me down. “Knife you instead, didshe?”
