by Helene Gadot
This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.
CRASH
First edition. May 24, 2018.
Copyright © 2018 Helene Gadot.
Written by Helene Gadot.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
Acknowledgments
1-Ridley
2-Ridley
3-Ridley
4-Ridley
5-Ridley
6-Maddox
7-Ridley
8-Maddox
9-Reese
10-Ridley
11-Ridley
12-Ridley
13-Reese
14-Ridley
15-Ridley
16-Beckett
17-Ridley
18-Ridley
19-Maddox
20-Ridley
21-Ridley
22-Ridley
23-Maddox
24-Ridley
25-Ridley
26-Ridley
27-Beckett
28-Maddox
29-Ridley
30-Cormac
31-Ridley
32-Ridley
33-Reese
34-Ridley
35-Ridley
36-Ridley
37-Reese
38-Ridley
39-Ridley
40-Ridley
41-Maddox
42-Ridley
43-Ridley
44-Ridley
45-Maddox
46-Ridley
47- Ridley
About the Author
Books by Helene Gadot:
Dedication
TO THE REBELS AND RULE-breakers
Acknowledgments
THANK YOU TO TAM AND Amber for always being there, every step of this writing journey. Thank you to stokkete for the cover art, it's beautiful. Thanks to 20Booksto50K for the helpful advice, to Rah-Rah for the encouragement and barrage of gifs and pics of pretty fellas, to my beta readers who have truly magical eyes for detail, and to everyone who has read and reviewed my books.
I'd be nothing without all of you.
And finally, to my husband and kids: Thank you for helping me follow this crazy dream and keeping the coffee coming. I love you guys.
1-Ridley
The waves washed over Ridley's feet, slivers of memories slashing into her, slicing deep. Heavy clouds hid the rising sun, casting a gray pall over the ocean. She saw ghosts of her past peeking from the billows, taunting her with things better forgotten.
Sometimes, when she helped someone, suffocating flashes of her life before plagued her. The bruised and ripped skin of the women who came to her reminded her of how her own skin once carried the same wounds. The scars and nightmares were a constant reminder of the life she ran from, of what she lost. No matter how many people she helped make the same escape, she couldn't shed what haunted her.
The sweat from her five-mile run cooled on her skin as she turned her back on the ocean. She needed to stop staring at the waves, it always made her melancholy.
She replaced her ear-buds and pushed her legs to run along to the harsh beat of the rock song, pounding out her fury and desperation, forcing the darkness to remain behind.
The monster plaguing her couldn't hurt her anymore, couldn't find her, couldn't touch her. She was safe. She was strong. She was powerful. Her illusion manipulation had won before and hundreds of times since. She had to let it go. She had to push past the fear. She had to move on.
She just didn't know how.
Most days, she was fine. She fixed bikes, she took long rides, she took out her issues on abusive assholes, she ran and swam, she went out and brought home an occasional hot guy.
But some days, like today, it was harder to shake off the memories.
2-Ridley
Ridley wiped sweat and grease from her face with a wince at the dull ache in her lower back. She considered the motorcycle gleaming in the fading sunlight with a tilted head and pursed lips. Her shitty mood was long gone, breaking away along with the clouds in the early afternoon.
"You finished?" Her business partner and friend, Malia, walked over to stand behind Ridley, her sleek black hair falling out of her braid.
Ridley stood with a grimace. "Yeah. It should run beautifully now."
Malia nodded briskly and rubbed at a stain on her jeans with a frown. "I'll give the owner a call."
Ridley fought to keep her face set in an innocent expression. "Let me give it a trial run first. This one was trickier than usual."
Malia rolled her eyes with a grin. "Bullshit. You just want to ride a Ducati."
Guilty. Ridley smirked back at her friend. "Can you believe he brought it here for us to fix?" Two women running a motorcycle repair shop didn't always get a lot of business. Especially from the type of guys who could afford a Ducati. She was surprised he hadn't taken it back to the dealer, no matter how big of a scam that was.
It was her dream to own one. But what little money she did make, had more important uses.
"Nope. He was clearly a crazy person."
Ridley shrugged. "No way am I missing out on this chance." She eyed the bike with longing and lust. Lady-boners for kick-ass bikes were a common side effect of her job, but this one was worse than normal.
Malia sighed. "Just don't crash it. We cannot afford to replace even the headlights on that bike."
A breathy laugh fell from Ridley's mouth, excitement shivering through her. "I'm just going around the block. Calm your tits."
"My tits are perfect, thank you very much." Malia tossed her head with a sniff.
"Mine are better." Ridley mounted the gorgeous piece of machinery she'd finally gotten a chance to have her hands all over and inside.
"Ugh. Shut up."
Ridley hit the button for the garage door, waiting for it to open before she started the motorcycle, grinning in delight at the purr of the engine.
She winked over at Malia and revved the purr into a roar, shooting through the open door with a squeal of the back tire. The warm sea breeze embraced her, the setting sun glinted against the shiny black paint on the side panels. She rode to the song of pistons and rods moving to the beat of the cylinder, a peace she only found on the back of a bike falling over her.
Everything else melted away when she rode—her worries, her past, her fears. Riding left nothing but bliss.
How fast could this baby go?
Every inch of her body longed to find out, to whip through traffic until she reached the back roads curling through the island mountains.
But Malia would kill her.
And she was a professional.
Sometimes. Sort of.
With a forlorn sigh, she bent farther over the bike, and turned back towards their garage. Malia waited in the doorway with anxious eyes, her body releasing tension when Ridley drove inside.
Electricity still zapped her veins when Ridley shut off the bike and dismounted.
Malia closed the garage door and shook her head. "Can I call him now?"
Ridley couldn't tear her eyes away from the bike, still riding the high. "Yeah."
"So, how was it?"
She turned to face her friend, eyes shining. "Glorious. If the parts weren't so fucking expensive, I'd build one for myself."
Malia's amused expression turned wistful and sad. "One day."
"Sure. One day."
They both knew one day would never come.
Malia visibly shook herself. "I got a message last night."
Ridley stiffened. "What a
bout?" Another one so soon? They just helped someone the night before. Usually weeks went by before they got another case.
"Someone is coming in. They need help." Malia jerked at her braid.
"They're coming here?" Usually they met in a neutral location so their real identities remained a secret.
Malia crinkled her nose, not looking pleased with the idea. "Yeah. She's desperate and needs it handled ASAP. This one time we'll have to take the risk."
A different kind of electricity pulsed through Ridley's veins, more like lightning. "What kind of help does she need?"
Malia glared at her with a huff. "The violent kind. Which you know. No one comes to us needing us to give out hugs. She's sending a friend to explain. She's worried he'll follow her. We've been messaging all day. This is time sensitive from what I am getting from her."
Ridley glanced at the clock. They closed in two hours. "What time is her friend getting here?"
"Any minute."
Ridley's mind raced for a moment, as she tried to fit everything into the correct compartment. "Then let's call the Ducati owner once her friend is gone. I don't want them showing up here at the same time."
"Agreed. I already canceled my date with Katy tonight."
Ridley frowned at the disappointment in Malia's voice. "I can handle it myself."
Malia jutted out her chin before she turns to wipe down the Ducati with a soft cloth, cleaning spots and dirt only visible to her sharp eyes. "How many times do I have to tell you not to be a dick? I'm not leaving you to deal alone."
"You've canceled on her a lot lately." Malia really liked her girlfriend and Ridley didn't want to see them break up over something she pulled Malia into.
Malia straightened with a sigh. "I know. I'm surprised she hasn't broken up with me yet."
"This is why I don't do relationships." Ridley preferred hookups with fake names and numbers. It was simpler and less messy. She had enough drama in her life, she didn't need to add a relationship to it.
"That last hookup of yours was worthy of a relationship. He was hot. And had no opinions about women owning a motorcycle repair, which was something new and a definite plus."
Ridley smiled, remembering the huge Polynesian biker. He'd come in to have her fix his Indian Scout Bobber and invited her out for a drink once she finished. It had been an excellent night, but she hadn't called him and he apparently didn't care or he got the hint.
"He was. Too hot." And very skilled. He'd kept her up the entire night with his clever tongue and hips.
Malia looked up from the floor where she squatted by a Kawasaki she'd been playing around with in her spare time. "There's no such thing."
"Yeah there is. And he was it." Something about him had called to her, to a long buried part of her. There were shadows lurking behind his mask. Just like her.
Malia's forehead creased as she stood. "That makes no sense."
Ridley crossed her arms. "When a guy is that hot, it makes me lose sense. And I can't afford to lose sense around some dude."
"It's okay to let someone in, you know. Not everyone is like your dad. Or the guys we go after."
Ridley shrugged off Malia's words and the memories flicking through her mind like a slide-show. "No. But I'm too busy to try right now."
"That's just an excuse and you know it. But I get it. Fuck, do I get it." Malia stared out the window with a heavy sigh.
"I know you do."
Their similar pasts and thirst for vengeance had brought them together years ago when Ridley first came to Hawaii. It was the farthest and most populated place she could escape to hide herself. To start over.
Now, she and Malia gave others the same opportunity.
A knock at the side door interrupted their conversation. Malia went to open it and a tall blonde walked in, head high, nose low. She picked her way carefully over the grease stains and spare parts and tools lying around on the floor.
"I'm Beth. You should be expecting me."
Malia stepped forward with a nod. "We are. How can we help you?"
Beth's angry eyes seared them. "You can kill the son of a bitch who keeps stalking my friend."
3-Ridley
Malia and Ridley exchanged a startled glance.
Malia gestured for the woman to take a seat in their small waiting area. "Coffee?"
"No. Thank you." Beth perched on the edge of one of the chairs, her hands clasped over her purse.
"Ma'am, we aren't assassins." Ridley wanted to be sometimes, but it was the perfect way to end up on the Legion's radar and have a team sent after them.
The Legion of the Guard was a group of aces, marvels with power. They were supposed to protect the world from the knaves who tried to destroy it. It was founded on good principles, but over time it had warped and been corrupted into an organization that cared more about ratings and fame than actually helping people.
And Ridley had a very dangerous enemy in the Legion. One she couldn't let find her, or everything she'd built would shatter around her.
"Nothing else will stop him." Beth's shoulders were rigid and her knuckles white with the force of her grip on her bag.
Did she expect them to rob her?
Malia smiled kindly. "Not necessarily. Why don't you start from the beginning. Your friend didn't send us much information."
"How did you find out about us?" Ridley asked.
"A cop slipped her a paper with your website on it."
It wasn't the first time cops sent women to them. Word had gotten out about the site they set up on the dark web.
Ridley hoped they wouldn't come to regret inviting this woman to their place.
"I see." Malia busied herself by making a cup of coffee.
"They can't do anything. They have no proof. He's too slick. He fucking raped her and because she waited too long to turn him in, they sent her away. He leaves packages for her, nasty ones, and they can't find any prints or any evidence it's him. But it is. Her word just isn't enough. It's bullshit." Flags of red appeared on Beth's cheeks, signs of her rage.
Ridley closed her eyes, fighting off the pain in her chest. "It is. And a common problem."
"She even tried to go to the Legion because he's a marvel. And is an ace of the Legion. They ignored her." Outrage colored Beth's tone.
Ridley pitied Beth and her friend learning how incredibly unfair their world was. "They only care about big villains. They expect the normal police to deal with the rest."
"But they don't." Beth's tone came out high and shrill.
"No. Not always." Very rarely. The burden of proof was always on the victim.
"Has he physically injured her other than the rape?" Malia asked.
Beth shook her head with a sniff. "No. But he left a poisonous snake in a box on her doorstep. He photographs her and leaves them taped to her walls for her to find. Stuff in her house will be suddenly be moved to different places. She has a security system and has changed the locks multiple times, but her building doesn't have much to help. She wants to move into a more secure apartment building, but she can't afford it yet."
Ridley took a moment for the horror to fade away. Her fingers curled into her thighs. "Is she willing to move? Start over with a new identity?" Her stalker was escalating. They needed to handle him tonight.
Beth shook her head. "Only as a last resort. She was hoping you could find proof somehow if you refused to kill him. But yes, if nothing else works, then she's willing. She has some money saved up. She can pay you and I'll help her."
Malia frowned into her coffee mug. "We don't need money. She should keep it to start over if that becomes necessary."
"What are you going to do?" Beth asked.
"It's better you don't know. What powers does this guy have? We need all the info you can get us." Malia set her coffee aside and grabbed a pen and a notepad.
Beth rummaged in her purse and pulled out her phone. "I'll email you everything I have. I've gathered as much as I could find. His power is speed. He's really fast."
Ridley sighed. "Which explains how he hasn't left proof on the cameras." She hated speedsters. But with Malia on her team, it wouldn't be too much of a problem. No matter how fast he could go, he wouldn't be able to pass through Malia's force field.
"Exactly. And it makes him stronger."
"All right. Send us what you have. We'll take it from there and we'll be in touch."
Beth stood, tears glittering in her eyes. "Thank you." She sniffled. "She doesn't deserve this. Sarah is the sweetest woman in the world. If I were stronger, I'd have killed him myself, damn the consequences."
Malia stood as well and patted the woman's arm. "You've done what you could. More than what most people would do for their friends."
"Please, help her."
"We will."
Malia walked her out while Ridley scrolled through the files Beth emailed them. It was a lot. The woman was thorough. Impressive.
Malia returned and read over Ridley's shoulder. "How dangerous is this going to be?"
"Very. He's twisted. And powerful. And a respected member of the Legion. Probably another reason he's getting away with this. They protect their own." Ridley understood that fact better than most.
"Well, shit."
"Yep. We're taking care of him tonight."
"How?"
"I have some ideas." Ridley's lips twitched at the plans unfolding in her mind.
"Of course you do."
4-Ridley
After only an hour of prep, Ridley and Malia set across from the asshole's apartment building.
Ridley adjusted the ear-piece. "You read me?"
Malia's put-upon sigh came through loud and clear. "Do we have to do this every time?"
Ridley fought a grin. "Yes. Over."
"Really?"
"Sorry." Ridley's eyes narrowed on the apartment building across the street.
"No, you're not." Malia harrumphed.
"Nope."
"Ass."
Ridley couldn't fight the grin anymore. "Yep."
"I've got the force field set up. He's not getting out of here no matter how fast he is."
