Page 19 of Claimed By the Hitchhiker

Following my gut, I park and kill the engine at a fair distance. I left my gun with Dani, so I rummage in the truck and find a mallet and a six-inch wench. This will have to do.

I proceed on foot, seeking cover from the trees lining the road. Adrenaline surges through me, and I barely notice the sharp sting of branches against my face.

By the time I reach the motel, my leg muscles are screaming, chest heaving with exertion. I look up and growl through clenched teeth.

My blood freezes solid at the sight of three red Jeeps similar to the one Dani was driving. A bellow lodges in my throat, barbed wires coiling in my belly, but I tamp down the fury and try to force a sense of calm into my veins.

Dani needs me, so fighting angry is not an option. I cannot lose. I refuse to lose.

Three trucks. Six tall, lean men surrounding our room. One shadow in the backseat, who must be the Father. None of them have guns, at least from what I can see. And the realization of why makes something acidic rise in my chest.

They want her alive. They need her alive. Must be so they can still make use of her and force her to “graduate”. These sick pieces of shit. At least it’s going to be a fair fight. Doesn’t mean they won’t end up bloody and wishing they’re dead.

Stepping out of the bushes, I waste no time grabbing the one nearest me and hitting him with the mallet. The others whip their heads to me, and after seeing what happened to their buddy, yell and charge.

It’s fucking on.

They come at me all at once, and I have no time to think. I fight purely on instinct, punching one square in the jaw, kicking the other in the shin, breaking someone else’s kneecaps with the mallet.

Someone hits my clenched hand with a baseball bat, striking me with a sickening thud, and I hear the sound of breaking bones. Fuck! It almost blinds me, my fingers throbbing and pain radiating to my arm and shoulder.

Doesn’t matter. I still won’t let them get their hands on Dani. If they think they can overpower me, then they’ve never seen how a man fights when he’s running high on fury and desperation. And I’m full of both.

Four more bodies fall to the ground, leaving only me and the guy knocking on the door standing.

He points an accusing finger at me. “Who the fuck are you and what do you want with Dani?”

I smile, tasting something metallic on my tongue. “I’m not someone you want to mess with. You hurt Dani. You’re not getting off that easily.”

He must’ve seen something on my face because his Adam’s apple bobs up and down. I don’t doubt I look unhinged right now. Hell, I feel unhinged. “Give her to us and we’ll let you go.”

I throw my head back and laugh. Laugh like it’s the funniest shit I’ve ever heard. “Even with only one functioning arm, I can still squeeze the life out of you, boy. You came here expecting to find a helpless girl. Too bad you have to face me instead.”

We circle each other, and he lunges forward, fist aimed at my face. I dodge the blow and scoff like he’s nothing more than an inconvenience. I counter with a right hook, my knuckles connecting with his ribs, and he grunts, hands flying to his stomach.

He staggers back and I pummel his face and chest until he’s gasping for breath.

My pulse speeds up as I turn around and stalk to the last shadow in the truck. He doesn’t say anything even as I beat his guys. Doesn’t even seem fazed at all.

A bullet whizzes past me, and I duck behind the hood, listening to his door swinging open. There’s a click but nothing else. Realizing I have to take this small window of opportunity to strike, I rush to him, slamming the car door in his outstretched hand and hearing him yelp.

One look at him and I can’t reconcile the ruthless, brutal man Dani calls Father. He’s wearing a wrinkled white shirt and black dress pants, and even those can’t hide his frail frame. A thick mane of white hair curls around his ears and covers his forehead, the deep, piercing brown eyes radiating the kind of strength I only ever see with men my age or younger.

And there…the scar near his mouth. A jagged line from the corner of his lips running towards his jaw. Makes him look like he’s perpetually smirking.

Yes, despite how he looks like every other old man, he’s far from it. I have to remember all those people who died in his hands.

His wrinkled hand flies to his wrist, cradling it. I probably broke it when I slammed the car door. That’s the least I can do for all his victims…at least, for now.

Hearing the sound of vehicles drawing nearer, I glare at him. Part of me wants to say so many things, while the other part wants to talk to him with my fist.

The police cars and an ambulance come to a jarring stop by the side of the road. The officers step out of the cars, guns drawn. I meet the Chief's gaze and he nods. Swinging my head back to the old man, I stare him down. “It’s over for you. You’re gonna pay.”

To my surprise, he chuckles. “I can’t wait to see the disappointed look on your face when they release me.”

At this, I smile at him. “We’ll see.”

I spin on my heel toward our bedroom. But something nags at me, so I turn to face him. “How did you find us? There were no trackers in the Jeep.”

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