Page 35 of Ride Forever
The admission took me by surprise. I thought we would’ve gone at it, with or without my arrest, until we’d gotten what we wanted. King in a body bag.
“We’re leaving?” I asked. “Why?”
Chaser glanced at me, then back to the road. “We’re going to regroup with Gasket and come at this from another angle.”
“Gasket? You heard from him?”
He nodded. “Someone set you up, Sloane. It had to be someone from within Fortitude.”
“I’m not so sure about that,” I murmured.
“Care to explain?”
“The agent who questioned me…” I sighed. “He didn’t seem to have anything that could pin me down. I think they got a tip-off and were counting on the dumb female to implicate herself.”
“And?”
I glared at him. “Give me some fucking credit.”
Chaser smiled and placed a hand on my thigh, giving me a squeeze. Letting me go, he shifted the car into reverse and backed out of the space. A minute later, we were on the road and leaving the FBI field office in our dust.
“So you’re not giving up on King?”
Chaser glanced at me with a raised eyebrow. “Of course not. I want to see his corpse as much as ever. Probably more, considering.”
Thinking about all the mistakes we’d made, I wondered if we’d ever get a break. King’s deal wasn’t ideal, but if I told Chaser now, we could devise a plan. He was going to use himself as bait anyway… I sighed and rubbed my eyes.
“Tired?” Chaser asked.
“Yeah. I feel like I’m dead on my feet.”
“We’ll find a place outside of the city. I’ll drive for now.”
“Is that code for ‘sit back and relax’?”
“Sure.”
“You’re getting soft, you know.”
He grunted, his shoulders tensing.
Maybe this was some of the old Chaser showing through. Gunnar Mason. The cold, asshole-ish, killer was a product of circumstance, so it stood to reason it wasn’t who he really was at his core. If we ever found a place at the end of this where we could be together, perhaps he’d settle into a meshed paring of his two identities.
Maybe was such a hopeless word.
Twisting around, I reached over to the back seat and found my boots. My bag was there, so I pulled out a fresh pair of panties and socks. Chaser raised an eyebrow as I shimmied out of my dirty underwear. I flicked the lacy strip of material at him for good measure before putting on my socks and boots. Shimmery stripper dress and combat boots. Even though I was exhausted, I felt a little more like myself.
“What do you want me to do with these?” Chaser asked, holding up my panties and keeping one eye on the road.
“You can sniff them if you like. They’re ripe.”
Smirking, he flung the lace over his shoulder and into the back of the car.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, studying his profile.
“Something doesn’t feel right about this.”
“Like what?”
