Chasing Allie (Breaking Away Series #2)

by Meli Raine

  But Chase’s arms are kind of full right now. He’s holding a cocked shotgun. And it’s pointed at Jeff’s face, right between the eyes. A strange cheer rises inside me. It doesn’t have a name. If it did, it would be named hope. Right now, hope is the only good thing that’s about to come out of the brewing fight between the man who I think is my future and the man who holds me back.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing, boy?” Jeff’s words ring out across the empty bar. The stale scent of old cigarettes blends with the anger in the air. It all makes my stomach hurt. Chase ignores me, though. Why is he pretending I’m not here?

  He sees me. I know he does. I am the reason why he is here and everything in me burns for him.

  “I’m here to set free what you’ve been keeping prisoner for far too long, old man,” Chase answers my stepdad. A shiver runs through me. I’ve never seen him like this and it makes me wonder what else I don’t know about him.

  “Prisoner? Who the fuck do you think I’ve been keeping prisoner?” Both sets of eyes turn and look at me. I am the prisoner. Jeff knows damn well that I’m who Chase has come for.

  “Me.” My word brings out like a thunder clap. It echoes against walls I’ve washed, floors I’ve mopped, bars I wiped a thousand times. It bounces off all the memories I have of my mother. It roams through the air to stop just short of Jeff’s face.

  Like a shotgun.

  Jeff just barks out a disgusted laugh.

  “I know what you plan to do with her,” Chase says in a tone that makes my spine go cold.

  “Do with me?” I ask, confused. I look at Jeff. He reddens. What are they talking about?

  “You don’t know shit,” he says to Chase, casting a nervous glance at me. “Now get out of here before I call the cops. Bet that gun ain’t registered and you don’t have a license to fire, either.”

  “Try me, old man. Call the cops. I got a lot I can tell them about you.” Chase is looking at Jeff with the cold gleam of murder in his eye. I can tell he can taste it. Now I understand the phrase “out for blood.”

  I can see it in Chase’s face.

  “What do you want?” Jeff asks. “Money? Booze?”

  “Her.”

  “Nope. Can’t have her.” Jeff shakes his head slowly, as if that solidifies it.

  “Her is standing right here, you two! Her has a name!” I yell out. I’m getting angry with both of them now, talking about me like I’m a prize you win and fight over. Like I’m a bone two dogs are playing tug of war with.

  “He’s planning to sell you off, Allie,” Chase says slowly. His words are measured and he’s speaking carefully. His eye is fixed on Jeff, finger on the trigger, though. He’s not losing focus. There’s a tone of sadness in his words, like he doesn’t want to say them.

  “Sell me? What do you mean, Chase? There’s no such thing.” I stare at him, completely dumbfounded. When I frown, my scabbed-over road rash hurts. I brush my hair behind my ear and a piece catches in the scab. I wince. “You can’t sell a person.”

  Jeff chuckles. “Told you. The boy is nuts.” But his eyes are wary. Shifty. Cunning. He’s afraid.

  Afraid of...me?

  More like afraid of the truth. Of being caught. Of being exposed. All my skin goes numb at the thought that Jeff’s hiding something and Chase knows what it is.

  “Allie, move away from him.” Chase’s words make it clear I need to obey. I do, moving out of Jeff’s grabbing range.

  “Chase, this is really weird. I don’t understand,” I plead, trying to figure out what’s going on.

  Chase just stares at Jeff. “Let’s just say I learned through the grapevine why Wakefield here has been so protective of you. Two years ago he got himself into a big mess. A deadly mess.”

  My heart goes cold. Two years ago? That’s when Mom died.

  “And he made a deal,” Chase continues. He says the word “deal” like it’s distasteful.

  “Shut up, boy. You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Jeff says. He’s standing next to the bar and I see his hand slowly move toward his hip. What’s he reaching for?

  Are my boyfriend and my stepfather seriously facing off over me, with guns involved? What is Chase babbling about—me, being sold?

  “That’s why he was so worried about your virginity, Allie. You need to be pure. He’s trading you for six figures of debt he owes a Mexican drug lord.” Chase’s voice is filled with anger and resentment, seething with righteous indignation.

  “WHAT?” I scream, looking at Jeff.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  He ignores me.

  I’m really tired of men who ignore me.

  “The drug lord’s known for it. Buys girls and sells them into sex slavery. Makes even more brokering them,” Chase explains in a calm, deadly voice. “But first, he...takes a turn, if you know what I mean.”

  A turn? My stomach twists at the implications of what he’s saying.

  “You been reading too many mysteries, Chase,” Jeff says. “That sounds like a great plot for a movie. Why dontcha move to L.A. with Allie and start writing movies? You’d be good at it,” he hoots. “The two of you can ride out there on a unicorn and eat air. Live on the beach and sing Kumbay-fucking-ya all night.” He snorts like we’re the stupidest creatures he’s ever seen.

  “Not a movie. Not a lie. Allie,” Chase pleads, “I swear to God I’m telling the truth. You have to come with me. Wakefield here is more dangerous than you’ve ever imagined.”

  Of course I’ll go with him, but first...first I need to figure out if this is all true. Have I really been living with a father figure who has been spending the last two years getting me ready to sell my virginity to a drug lord?

  “Jeff?” I ask, looking at him. “Were you really planning to sell me? Is that why you never pay me for working here, why I can barely ever use the car, why you stole my money I saved up to leave?”

  Chase makes a sound of disgust. “Jesus. You asshole.”

  Jeff acts like Chase isn’t really there. A man has to be pretty dead inside if can ignore a double-barrel shotgun pointed at his face.

  I see his hand reaching for something under the bar.

  I charge him.

  Chase runs toward us just as I shove Jeff as hard as I can. He hits the counter and his elbow catches a tray of glasses, dry and sitting there, ready to be racked. The tray slides off the bar and bounces, glasses pinging one by one and cracking, splintering.

  Jeff falls on top of them.

  The shattered pieces of glass cut into him, and I wonder if he’s going to bleed all over the floor. I can’t bear to watch him, and find myself screaming. My screams drown out the world. Suddenly, the room is filled with chaos. Jeff stands and tries to run to the back of the bar. He’s leaving a trail of blood smears as he limps down the hall.

  Chase runs after him with the shotgun. I just stand at the bar and scream. I’m not just screaming because I slammed into Jeff, or screaming because of the blood.

  I have two years of screaming pent up inside, and I think it’s time it all came out.

  There doesn’t seem to be any way for me to be safe. I can’t help Chase right now. He’s the one with the gun. But Jeff has a gun too, in the back room. If he gets to it, everything I know could change in an instant.

  “Get your fucking hands up in the air,” Chase yells at Jeff. I stop screaming. Slowly, I see Jeff coming down the hall, Chase’s shotgun pointed within inches of the back of his head. Jeff’s eyes are dead.

  And they’re looking right at me.

  “Get over by the front door, Allie,” Chase orders. I do exactly what he says. I have no idea where this is going to go. My throat is raw from screaming and my head is pounding from too much information, too much shock, too much fear. A sudden image of an older man pinning me down and raping me hits me, hard, like a rock pitched at my face. Right between the eyes.

  That time in the shack with Chase was so tender. So exciting. And it was my choice to be naked. My choice to gi
ve so many firsts to Chase. My choice to be sensual and loving.

  Mine.

  My self to give.

  Jeff wanted to sell that?

  “Allie, you get back here right now,” Jeff snarls at me. I am ready to snarl back. I am ready to do way worse.

  “Why, man? So you can sell her off?” Chase bellows. He looks at me with an angry, pleading look in his eyes. “You believe me don’t you, Allie?” Chase asks. “Frenchie wouldn’t lie to me about something like this. He was actually, well, excited about it.” Chase makes a grossed-out face.

  “Your biker gang buddies are the ones who treat women like pieces of ass,” Jeff says. He finally looks at me. “See what I mean, Allie? This guy doesn’t love you. Is that what he’s telling you?” Jeff rolls his eyes. “This is so cliché. Jesus fucking Christ.”

  Chase looks at me. The shotgun is steady and the barrel is still pointed at Jeff. This isn’t going to end well.

  Then again, nothing is ending well in my life.

  Leaving this town, with Chase, may be the only way that anything can end for me in a way that gives me a future. What’s my other option? Stay and be handed off to a Mexican drug lord who will ravage me and sell me off to be held captive and raped daily for the rest of my life?

  Some choice.

  “Don’t you dare try to follow us,” I say to Jeff, whose eyes widen with shock. “You controlled me long enough. I know everything. Everything,” I stress. “I know you’re dealing drugs, I know you’re competing with Atlas, I know you probably killed my mom—”

  “I didn’t kill your mother,” Jeff insists. He doesn’t say a word about the other things I just said. Guilty. I’m not surprised, but I am conflicted. I feel weird right now. Talking to him like I’m his equal is really strange.

  Calling him on his lies feels good, but it will take some getting used to. Plus, I’m livid my money is gone. I have no sense of what life will throw at me next.

  Chase grins, the smile wide and happy across his face. He nudges his head toward the main door. I walk over to him, and he puts his arm around me, the shotgun still pointed right at Jeff.

  “Allie, don’t you leave. You have no right. Look at everything I’ve done for you.” Jeff’s words hang in the air in the bar, like dust motes that float in a beam of sunlight. It’s only when you really look at what you’re seeing that you see how filthy everything can be.

  “You want your money? I’ll give it to you.” He goes to reach for his back pocket and Chase clicks the gun.

  “Don’t even,” Chase says.

  “I’m trying to give her back her fucking money! I found it and was keeping it safe for her,” Jeff mutters. Even he can’t sustain the lie.

  “Throw it on the counter, then,” Chase says.

  Jeff does as he’s told, but he tosses it right into a pile of broken glass.

  “You asshole,” Chase mutters. I only half care, walking gingerly around the broken pieces, picking up the cash. A few one dollar bills float off into even more broken shards. I ignore them. The bigger bills are all there.

  I turn and look at the man who has made me feel so small, so insignificant, so unworthy for the past two years.

  “Go to hell, Jeff,” I say, meaning every single word of it. “I never picked you as my stepfather, and I certainly don’t pick you to be my warden.”

  “Why are you calling me your warden?” Jeff asks. His eyes look like he’s feeling genuine emotional pain. I falter. Maybe I’ve misjudged him. For the past two years he’s told me what a burden I am to him. He’s given me a place to live, fed me, helped me make it through high school, and even given me a job.

  At the same time, he’s controlled almost every move I make, told me over and over how grateful I’m supposed to be for his act of “kindness,” and he stole what little money I had.

  Now Chase comes here with this nutso story about how Jeff’s going to sell me, like some kind of a sex slave, because I’m a virgin? It’s too crazy to believe.

  “Allie,” Chase says with a warning in his voice. “There’s more. I don’t want to have to tell you, but I know who he’s planing to sell you to. El Brujo. The Wizard.”

  Every part of my skin, my organs, my bones goes numb and cold at once. “El Brujo? Jeff, you were planning to hand me off to El Brujo?” El Brujo is the biggest, most dangerous drug lord in California and Mexico. Hell, in the world, as far as I know. Journalists write long articles about him in major magazines and then turn up dead.

  The television news is full of stories about him and his terrorist tactics. He’s a giant drug lord and will kill anyone who gets in his way in about as much time as it takes to sneeze. He’s been known to kill women while raping them, and do it in front of their captured friends. A preview of what’s to come.

  I start to shiver. “Why me?” I ask, my voice a pitiful moan.

  Jeff opens his mouth and closes it a few times, eyes shooting fire at Chase. “That’s not true,” he finally says. But he moves his eyes away when he says it.

  My stomach is burning and tingling. I don’t want to believe Chase. I don’t think he’s lying, of course. It’s just that this is too much to believe. You never think you’ll find yourself being sold into sex slavery to a drug lord, you know?

  The thought makes me laugh. A bitter sound pours out of my mouth, and Jeff looks at me sharply. He’s trying to see if he can convince me. His eyes are focused only on that. I can tell.

  To him, I am a tool. Something you use to fix something else. Whatever mess he got himself into, he’s been waiting to hand me over.

  Something Galt asked me last night makes another piece of the puzzle fit. “I turned eighteen a few weeks ago,” I say, moving away from Chase and over to Jeff.

  Just then, Heather walks in from the back, ready to start her shift. She’s an older woman, about Jeff’s age, with colored hair the shade of adobe and too much eyeliner. She’s whip thin, a smoker, and the woman Jeff’s been sleeping with.

  Her head is bent down and she’s tying on her apron. “So hey, Jeff, I think you’re short on peanuts, and we need to order more from—” Her voice ends abruptly as she looks up and sees Chase pointing the gun at Jeff’s head.

  A squeak of surprise is her next sound.

  “Stay right there, Heather,” Jeff says in a cool voice. He probably doesn’t care what happens to her, but there’s a catch in his voice. It’s more than I ever heard him worry about me, that’s for sure.

  “I wish you were dead,” I snap at Jeff. The full pain of everything Chase has revealed hits me at once. “You’ve done nothing but hurt people,” I add, my mouth suddenly tasting like copper. The room spins a little and Chase reaches out for me. He can tell I’m wobbly.

  He’s offering support.

  “I’ve done nothing but help you, little girl,” Jeff says somberly. His eyes flit over to Heather. She’s got one eyebrow cocked high and is leaning against a doorjamb. If she’s on Jeff’s side then this could become an enormous mess. I just need to get out of here. I can’t breathe.

  “You do what you need to do, honey,” Heather says, surprising me. She clearly shocks Jeff, who looks at her, gaping. Her eyes are the color of tobacco, the skin around them wrinkled and a bit chalky, like her makeup went on wrong. But her eyes are determined.

  “When you find love,” she adds, “you run away with it.”

  “Aw, fuck,” Jeff mutters, taking in a deep sigh, like he can’t believe the stuff coming out of her mouth. His hair is a mess now, the thin brown strands standing up in the air over his ears like bent antennae. How have I missed the fact that he’s just a man? An ordinary man. He has no power over me. And Heather’s right.

  Time to run away with love.

  I’ve always liked Heather. She’s kind of a follower but a good human being.

  “Go with Chase, honey,” she says with a smile, waving her hand toward Jeff like she’s shooing him off. “You live your life.”

  I look at her. I look at Jeff. I look at Chase.
<
br />   “Let’s go,” I say, and just like that, we’re through the front door and climbing on Chase’s bike. I stuff what’s left of my $371 in my back pocket and all I want is to get as far away from here as fast as we can.

  Chase stars up the bike and I put on my helmet, the bike lurching forward and onto the road before I can even get the helmet latched properly.

  “Where are we going?” I shout over the noise of the accelerating engine. You know those moments in the movies where there’s a huge explosion and the smoke is catching up to the good guys just as they pull away? I feel like that. Like if Chase and I don’t get out of here right this second, we’ll be burned.

  “I know exactly where,” he says. I don’t ask any more questions. I just rest my cheek against his back, tighten my arms around him, and let go.

  It feels so good.

  Within a minute, I get this creepy sensation. It starts at the back of my neck, and I think it’s the wind. Or maybe a small bug? I reach back and find nothing.

  The feeling grows.

  I turn around and see Jeff’s red car behind us, gaining ground.

  I poke Chase and shout in his ear, “Jeff’s following us.”

  “I thought he would. Hang on tight.” He guns the bike and we rocket forward. He wasn’t kidding. I pull my arms tight around his waist and seriously worry I might fall off.

  That would hurt. I don’t need to be dragged on the road. The thought makes me cringe.

  Chase makes a sharp left as we pass by a series of small auto repair shops on the edge of town, then takes off on a dirt road. He circles back and hides in a small alley, so narrow a car can’t fit. We watch as Jeff flies past, then turns a sharp left, too, following the dirt clouds Chase stirred up with the bike.

  “Hang on again. It’s like being the Road Runner,” he says. “Beep beep!”

  I laugh and squeeze him hard. The bike jerks forward and we’re off, back toward town, Chase weaving on side streets until we’re on dirt roads again. After ten minutes it’s clear we’re safe.