Right.
With shaking hands, I try to be confident as I start the bike. I throw the helmet on next, not bothering to clip it.
“I’ll hang back, but it’s all you, Charlie. You lead. I’ll follow.”
I nod and begin to back out, keeping my feet on the gravel as I ease it out of the spot. I’m doing it! Thank God. Now, I just have to get to the Hoover Dam.
I slam on the throttle and speed out of the parking lot with Bolt right behind me, putting Mercy’s bar behind me. The sun reflects off the side mirror and I don’t see anyone coming out of the clubhouse just yet. If I’m lucky, I’ll get ten minutes on them.
Ten minutes is all I need.
The sun is hot, burning down on my shoulders and the wind reminds me of my sunglasses folded in the middle of my tank top. With one hand, I flip them out and slip them on, lips protecting me from the wind and bugs.
To my right, Bolt chuckles but he seems impressed that I’m able to ride.
Even if I lied.
The ride to the Hoover Dam is short and the closer we get, the more flashes I have of coming here. I was high on that damn pill. It’s why I can’t remember fully, but I’ve been here before. The mountains are red and rocky, but between them is a road creating the Dam.
Another flashback hits me, and I remember driving over the bridge and pulling off to the side of the road. Bolt hangs back, losing speed until he is stopped on the shoulder and taking pictures, pretending he is a tourist.
Yeah, that won’t work with the cut on. He seems to have forgotten that minor detail.
My fists tighten and the bike jolts forward as I accidentally push on the throttle. I glance to the left at the body of blue water, my lost focus causing the bike to sway. Jerking my head so my eyes are on the road, I panic and overcorrect.
The heavy metal wins.
I slam on the brakes and the back tire fishtails in a half−circle, burnt rubber filling my nostrils and smoke clouding my line of sight. I cringe as Whistler’s bike scrapes against the road and when my leg hits the pavement. I let go of the handlebars and tumble, rolling away from the motorcycle.
Damn it!
I hold my arm when it begins to sting, and my jeans are torn and rubbed raw from the road. My vision swims for a second, and I can hear another bike grumbling. I know it’s Bolt.
“Charlie!” He rushes off his bike and drops to my side. “Jesus, Whistler is going to beat me with his bat when he takes one look at you. I thought you could drive.”
“I did drive,” I grumble, tasting iron in my mouth. “It got the best of me.” I lift my eyes from the road rash on my hand, witnessing Whistler’s bike continuing to spark against the road until it comes to a complete stop. “He’s going to kill me,” I mumble.
“He isn’t going to give a fuck about that bike. Are you insane? He’s going to kill me for bringing you here, but that bike is just a thing. It can be replaced. You can’t be.”
“Aw, isn’t this sweet?” Kenneth’s voice has the hairs on the back of my neck standing up and I crawl closer to Bolt who shields me from my ex…whatever the hell he is. “You’ve come, alone. That’s interesting, Charlie. Did you miss me that much?”
“She isn’t alone,” Bolt says, whipping out a long black nightstick like the kind cops use, but when he presses a button, blue lightning buzzes up the weapon. “Come here, mother fucker.”
“That’s so cute.” Kenneth claps his hands as if he is staring at a dog. “But it’s going to take more than that to stop me from taking her, you, and making you watch as I finish off Whistler’s sister. When I’m done with her, maybe I’ll start on you,” he says to Bolt.
Oh, we are so fucking stupid coming here alone.
Kenneth lifts his hand and signals someone. A soft puff rips through the air. Bolt grunts and falls to his knees, staring down at the tranquilizer in the middle of his chest. He sways and I crawl around him.
Bolt rips the small dart from his chest and throws it on the ground. There’s a green tip along with a vile that has a small Scapegoat logo.
Bolt doesn’t stand a chance.
He grins and takes my hand. “They’re on their way. We did exactly what we wanted,” he begins to slur.
“What’s that?” I pinch back the tears in my eyes as his eyes begin to close. I know he is just going to sleep but being on my own with Kenneth scares the hell out of me.
“The element of surprise isn’t gone. He won’t expect anyone else now,” Bolt manages to sigh his last words before falling asleep.
“No. Bolt! Wake up,” I whisper, shaking his chest. That tiny fucking dart can’t take down a man like him. “Wake up. Please,” I beg.
“I think I’m going to cry.” Kenneth pretends to sniffle and the sound of his expensive loafers clicks against the road.
The sparking nightstick is only a few feet away. If only I could—
I lunge for it, but Kenneth’s foot is faster and presses against my neck, pinning me to the ground. “I always knew you were a stupid bitch, Charlie. Always wanting to save the day when you can’t even save yourself. So sickly sweet.” He bends down and backhands me, picking me up by my throat with his hand and squeezing tight. “You’re also a whore,” he says, grabbing my waist and rubbing his cock against my thigh. “How many of them have you fucked since you’ve been out of my sight? I thought just the one, but now you bring him here and I have to wonder. Do you like men taking their turn?” He spins me around and pushes me against the concrete wall, shoving my head over until all I can see is the water below. “What if I fucked you here? Showed you how much you’re mine, then had some of my men take their turn. After you’re ruined, maybe I’d dump your body here. But then again,” he drags a hand down my back, “I’m too obsessed with you to give you up.”
I stomp against his foot and ram my elbow into his gut and run.
I run as hard and as fast as I can, but he has always been quicker than me. He reaches out and the boney digits of his fingers curl into my shirt and yank, ripping it.
“Come here, you fucking cunt,” he snarls, getting closer.
My leg is killing me, and I pump my arms, staring down the empty road. The sound of a gunshot rings out and I duck my head, turning my head to the right when the bullet hits the rock.
I see a door built into the mountain up ahead. I bet that’s where Kenneth’s headquarters are. If I can get there and get to Taylor, find her somehow and get her free, she can go home.
I’ll be able to get free eventually because after experiencing real love, after experiencing what good really is, there is no way in hell I’ll ever stop fighting again. I’ll always do my best to get back to Whistler.
Thunder rolls above us as a storm moves in, the clouds large and rolling over one another. Rain begins to spatter along the top of my head. I don’t know if it is wishful thinking or more thunder, but I swear I hear bikes in the distance.
I’m tackled from behind and my chin smacks against the road, clanking my teeth together. I struggle and dig my fingers into the road. Why do I notice it isn’t smooth and black but rough with chunks of rocks and pebbles? My nails break as I claw for freedom. The rain bullets down, exploding against the road, needling against my skin in an angry pinch. My hair becomes soaked, and I scream when a knife is at my throat and I’m flipped to my back.