Page 18 of Crash and Burn
9
Rascal
I stayedup a lot later than I meant to. I couldn’t get that ornery ass chick out of my fucking head. I couldn’t help thinking that giving her my number was a bad idea. I want her to be able to get a hold of me if she needs anything, but why would she need anything from me? I’ve been the biggest jackass when it comes to her. Luckily I don’t have to drive first. I’m riding with Shade in his car while Saint is riding with Diesel. I plan on sleeping as much as possible.
I walk out to the main room with my duffel bag. Saint and Diesel are already out here, eating breakfast.
“Did you make enough for the rest of us,” I ask.
“Yeah, it’s in a box on the kitchen counter. Milk is in the fridge,” Saint deadpans.
“Well, fuck me. That’s a gourmet meal.”
Diesel chuckles to himself.
“Don’t encourage him,” Saint says to him.
“Aren’t you a ray of fucking sunshine this morning,” I tell Saint.
“Would you two knock it the fuck off?” Shade walks into the clubhouse. “Are you assholes ready to go?”
I sigh. “Let’s get this drive over with.”
The fifteen-hour drive is the worst part of this run. Breaking it into two days drags it out so much more. If I could be more inconspicuous with my bike, I would ride it to Denver. I would rather have two days on my bike than two trapped in a cage, but it’s not an option. I fall asleep in the first thirty minutes of the drive.
My phone vibrates in my pocket.
“Hello?” I answer.
“Rascal, I got some bad news,” Sketch tells me.
“What’s up?”
“Marley took off. We can’t find her anywhere,” he says.
My heart sinks. “What do you mean she took off? Why the hell wasn’t anyone watching her?”
“Chains thought she was in her room sleeping. She gave us all the slip,” he explains.
“Find her and bring her back!” I hang up and dial Marley’s number.
“What do you want, Romeo?”
“Hey, Princess. Sketch said you weren’t at the clubhouse. What’s goin’ on,” I ask.
“You didn’t want me, so I left. Don’t come looking for me. I’m not coming back.” She hangs up, not letting me say anything else. I try calling her back, but it goes straight to voicemail.
I wake up, sitting straight up, my heart pounding in my chest.
“What’s up? You alright?” Saint’s brows draw together.
“Yeah. I had a weird dream. Where are we?”
“About halfway to our destination for the night. We’re about to stop to grab some food,” he explains.
“Good, I’m fuckin’ starving.” As if on cue, my stomach growls.
We pull up to an Applebee’s twenty minutes later. I climb out of the car and stretch. Shade, Diesel, and Saint head toward the front door.
