Page 104 of Bad Luck, Hard Love
His arm tightens fractionally around me. “Stay.”
Wrapped in bruises and hospital sheets, in silence and survival, I let myself breathe.
And even if the peace only lasts tonight, it’s enough.
THOR
Charlotte's fingerstighten around mine as the SUV hits another pothole, jostling her against my side. Her face doesn't betray the pain I know she's still in, but I feel it in the way she tenses with each bump in the road. Three days of healing hasn't erased what that monster did to her.
“You okay?” I ask quietly, brushing my thumb across her knuckles.
She nods. “I'm fine.”
It's a lie, but I let her have it. We're all lying today, pretending we're fine, pretending this is just club business. The truth is messier. This is Charlotte putting the monster under her bed to rest. Six feet fucking under, where he can’t hurt her anymore.
Raze catches my eye in the rearview mirror, his face grim. “ETA twenty minutes,” he says, turning the SUV down a dirt path that cuts through the Nevada desert.
“Place secure?” I ask, shifting to take pressure off my still-healing thigh. The bullet wound throbs with each heartbeat.
“The Black Hoods and Hero have it locked down tighter than a virgin on prom night.”
“So that’s where Hero has been,” I remark.
“Hasn’t left his post. Didn’t want to chance the man of the unholy hour getting away.”
The landscape outside the window grows increasingly desolate as we travel deeper into the Nevada desert. Sand and scrubby vegetation stretch endlessly in all directions, broken only by the occasional outcropping of sun-bleached rock. No buildings. No power lines. No signs of civilization at all.
“Where are we going?”
“Somewhere nobody will hear him scream,” Raze answers from the driver's seat.
The SUV crests a small hill, and suddenly I see it—a dilapidated mining structure, its wooden frame weathered gray by decades of desert sun and wind. A handful of motorcycles and a black van are parked beside it, the only indication we're not the first to arrive.
“Old silver mine,” Raze explains as he brings the vehicle to a stop. “Been abandoned since the fifties. Perfect for our needs.”
Dust swirls around us as I step out, my boots crunching on the gravelly soil. I scan our surroundings—nothing but empty desert in every direction. The silence is absolute.
I move around to Charlotte's side, offering my hand as she steps out. Her face is a mask of determination, but I feel the slight tremor in her fingers as they grip mine.
“Ready?”
“As I'll ever be.”
I press my lips to her temple, breathing in the clean scent of her hair. She's traded hospital gowns for jeans and a simple black t-shirt, her hair pulled back in a severe ponytail that exposes the fading bruises on her neck. Even wounded, she's fucking beautiful.
“You say the word, and we leave,” I remind her. “Anytime.”
She shakes her head, already moving toward the mining structure. “I'm not going anywhere until he's dead.”
Raze falls into step beside me as we follow her. “She's something else,” he mutters, low enough that only I can hear. “Most women would be in therapy, not walking into an execution.”
“She'll need therapy too,” I say, watching Charlotte's back as she approaches the entrance. “But this comes first.”
The wooden door creaks open before we reach it revealing Hero's massive frame. His face breaks into a grim smile when he sees us.
“About fucking time,” he says, clapping me on the shoulder with enough force to make me wince. “Your package has been making quite the racket. Begging, mostly. Offering money, women, drugs—you name it.”
“Has he now?”
