The guy watches me intently as I slip on the black leather cut that contains the three-piece patch of the club I belong to. Because of the way I’m angled, he can get a good look at our emblem on the back: a white half skull with flames raging out of the eyes and drops of fire raining down around it. The words “Reign of Terror” are mounted across the top. The town’s name, “Snowflake,” spelled on the bottom rocker.
He focuses on the patch that informs him I’m packing a weapon. His hand edges to the gun holstered on his belt. He’s weighing whether I’m carrying now or if I’m gun free.
I cock a hip against the railing and hitch my thumbs in the pocket of my jeans. If he’s going to talk, it would be now. He glances at the closed door then back at me. “This is where we’re doing this?”
“I’ve got somewhere to be.” And I’m running late. “Didn’t see a warrant on you.” So by law, he can’t enter.
A grim lift of his mouth tells me he understands I won’t make any of this easy. He’s around Dad’s age, mid—to late forties. He gave his name when I opened the door, but I’ll admit to not listening.
He scans the property and he has that expression that says he’s trying to understand why someone would live in a house so small. The place is a vinyl box. Two bedrooms. One bath. A living room-kitchen combo. Possibly more windows than square footage.
Dad said this was Mom’s dream. A house just big enough for us to live in. She never wanted large, but she craved land. When I was younger, she used to hug me tight and explain it was more important to be free than to be rich. I sure as hell hope Mom feels free now.
An ache ripples through me, and I readjust my footing. I pray every damn day she found some peace.
“I drove a long way to see you,” he says.
Don’t care. “Could have called.”
“I did. No one answered.”
I hike one shoulder in a “you’ve got shit luck” gesture. Dad and I aren’t the type to answer calls from strangers. Especially ones with numbers labeled police. There’re some law enforcement officers that are cool, but most of them are like everyone else—they judge a man with a cut on his back as a psychotic felon.
I don’t have time for stupidity.
“I’m here about your mother.” The asshole knows he has me when my eyes snap to his.
“She’s dead.” Like the other times I say the words, a part of me dies along with her.
This guy has green eyes and they soften like he’s apologetic. “I know. I’m sorry. I’ve received some new evidence that may help us discover what caused her death.”
Anger curls within my muscles and my jaw twitches. This overwhelming sense of insanity is what I fight daily. For years, I’ve heard the whispers from the gossips in town, felt the stares of the kids in class, and I’ve sensed the pity of the men in the Reign of Terror I claim as brothers. It’s all accumulated to a black, hissing doubt in my soul.
Suicide.
It’s what everyone in town says happened. It’s in every whispered conversation people have the moment I turn my back. It’s not just from the people I couldn’t give two shits about, but the people I consider family.
I shove away those thoughts and focus on what my father and the club have told me—what I have chosen to believe. “My mother’s death was an accident.”
He’s shaking his head and I’m fresh out of patience. I’m not doing this. Not with him. Not with anyone. “I’m not interested.”
I push off the railing and I dig out the keys to my motorcycle as I bound down the steps. The detective’s behind me. He has a slow steady stride and it irritates me that he follows across the yard and doesn’t stop coming as I swing my leg over my bike.
“What if I told you I don’t think it was an accident,” he says.
Odds are it wasn’t. Odds are every whispered taunt in my direction is true. That my father and the club drove Mom crazy, and I wasn’t enough of a reason for her to choose life.
To drown him out, I start the engine. This guy must be as suicidal as people say Mom was, because he eases in front of my bike, assuming I won’t run him down.
“Thomas,” he says.
I twist the handle to rev the engine in warning. He raises his chin like he’s finally pissed and his eyes narrow on me. “Razor.”
I let the bike idle. If he’s going to respect me by using my road name, I’ll respect him for a few seconds. “Leave me alone.”
Damn if the man doesn’t possess balls the size of Montana. He steps closer to me and drops the bomb. “I have reason to believe your mom was murdered.”
Copyright © 2015 by Katie McGarry
Playlist for Chasing Impossible
Songs for theme:
“Centuries” by Fall Out Boy
“A Sorta Fairytale” by Tori Amos
“Disarm” by The Smashing Pumpkins
“Paint It Black” by The Rolling Stones
Logan:
“Numb” by Linkin Park
“This is How We Roll” by Florida Georgia Line (featuring Luke Bryan)
“The Monster” by Eminem (featuring Rihanna)
“Cruise” by Florida Georgia Line (featuring Nelly)
Abby:
“Dark Horse” by Katy Perry (featuring Juicy J)
“What’s Love Got To Do With It” by Tina Turner
“Memory” by Barbara Streisand
“Bring Me to Life” by Evanescence
Songs for Specific Scenes:
Logan goes after Abby: “Someone Saved My Life Tonight” by Elton John
Isaiah talks to Abby at the farm: “The Weight” by The Band
Logan shows Abby the bunnies and the stars: “Dirt” by Florida Georgia Line
When the boys give Abby their money: “True Colors” by Cyndi Lauper
Abby makes the decision at the end: “Hey Jude” and “Let It Be” by the Beatles
Abby and Logan’s future:
“Shotgun Rider” by Tim McGraw
About the Author
Katie McGarry was a teenager during the age of grunge and boy bands and remembers those years as the best and worst of her life. She is a lover of music, happy endings and reality television and is a secret University of Kentucky basketball fan. She is also the author of Pushing the Limits, Dare You To, Crash into You, Take Me On, Breaking the Rules, Nowhere But Here and the novellas Crossing the Line and Red at Night.
Katie would love to hear from her readers. Contact her via her website, katielmcgarry.com, follow her on Twitter @KatieMcGarry, or become a fan on Facebook and Goodreads.
Don’t miss a single installment of the Pushing the Limits series by Katie McGarry!
Pushing the Limits (Book 1)
Crossing the Line (Novella)
Dare You To (Book 2)
Crash into You (Book 3)
Take Me On (Book 4)
Breaking the Rules (Book 5)
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ISBN-13: 9781460390672
Chasing Impossible
Copyright © 2015 by Katie McGarry
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> This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
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