Chasing Allie (Breaking Away Series #2)

by Meli Raine

  Jeff’s not following us.

  We’re free.

  When I see the first road sign for Los Angeles I let out a warrior’s battle cry.

  Chase joins in.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Two hours later I’m thirsty, covered in dirt, and I need to pee so badly I’m not sure I can lift my aching leg over the motorcycle to hobble into the gas station’s bathroom, much less squat. Some miracle gets me in there, and I take care of business. My brain is so tired. My heart, though, is excited.

  Beyond excited.

  I take a look in the dirty mirror above the cracked porcelain sink in the bathroom. A single, flickering light bulb in the grubby room is my only light. Wow. My long, black hair makes the wounds worse somehow, and now the tangled mess of helmet head plus hours of relentless wind make me look like someone put me in a blender.

  And then there are the wounds. I am a combination of scabby brown, deep purple, and my normal flesh tone. The road rash is cracking as it scabs, a nasty reddish-brown that looks like dried dog barf.

  Chase is being really nice to ride around with a woman who looks like me. I smile, and my lip screams with pain. I give up, washing my hands and getting back outside quickly.

  We’re headed straight for Los Angeles. The ocean. It’s two hundred miles and at the rate we’re going, we can be to Marissa’s place before dark. I call her as Chase runs in to get us some snacks.

  “Marissa!” I scream as she picks up. “I’m coming to see you!”

  “What? Who is this? Liam, I’ve told you a hundred times, I’m not just some wench you call when you’re horny.”

  I nearly drop the phone and stare at it like it’s a live snake. “Hello? Hello?” Marissa says.

  “If you think your own sister is some booty call named Liam, then you have worse problems than some guy who calls just for a quickie, Marissa,” I say into the phone, laughing.

  Just then, Chase comes out of the convenience store carrying my favorite drink and some protein bars. He points to the bar and mouths, Okay?

  I give him a thumbs’ up. It’s perfect, I mouth back.

  “Alllllliiiieee!” Marissa screams into my phone. It’s so loud even Chase jerks back, grabbing his ear.

  “I didn’t know the human voice could hit a range that high,” he whispers to me. “Please tell me it doesn’t run in the family.” He gives me a dead serious look and I burst out laughing.

  “I hear a man talking to you. Is it Jeff?” Her voice takes on a fearful tone. Chase picks up on it instantly and frowns, shaking his head.

  “You don’t need to be afraid of Jeff anymore,” Chase says into the phone. He screws the top off my drink and hands it to me, urging me to sip. I do, enjoying being taken care of.

  I grab the phone and pull it away from him, though. “No, that’s Chase,” I tell Marissa. “He’s bringing me to the ocean. To L.A. To see you.”

  “You’re moving here? Now?” She’s so incredulous I can’t stop laughing.

  “No, no, I don’t think so,” I say. Actually, I have no idea. All my stuff is back home, and I have to go back and get the jewelry box Jeff stole out of the tampon machine, my clothes, my things, my...

  Oh, I really don’t know. I haven’t thought this through, and Marissa’s question makes me realize how crazy this all is. Leaving home made sense a few hours ago, but the implications are starting to hit me.

  “Then why are you coming?” she asks.

  I smile at Chase, who is keeping a respectful distance so I can speak privately, but he’s leaning back against a rail near the air pump, face tipped up to the sky, enjoying a breeze. God, he’s beautiful. Perfect. Tanned and muscled, strong and kind, hard as nails and protective.

  I couldn’t ask for more in a man. And he likes me right back. Maybe, if I’m lucky, he loves me. Road rash and all.

  “Because Chase offered to bring me to the ocean,” I say. It’s not really a lie, right? I don’t want to tell her all the bad news I’ve learned about Jeff over the phone. That seems too abrupt. Besides, with Marissa I can fall apart and cry over ice cream and wine.

  On the phone? No. I can’t fall apart here, in the desert in front of a crummy gas station.

  “How long will you visit? And does Jeff know?”

  “Um, a day or two? I don’t know.” I laugh. “We didn’t exactly plan this out. I just want to put my feet in the water and watch the sun set and then I’ll be a grown-up and make plans and be practical again,” I explain.

  I can feel her smile through the phone.

  “Okay. Sounds fine. You have my address, right?”

  “Right.”

  “And Allie?” Marissa’s voice drops to a suggestive tone. “One of my roommates is gone on a business trip. Arlen. I’m sure he’ll be fine with you and Chase sleeping over in his room. He comes home tomorrow.”

  It’s in the nineties and sun-blazing hot, but I shiver anyhow.

  I’m sure he’ll be fine with you and Chase sleeping over in his room. Marissa’s words echo in my mind a thousand times in one second.

  “You all right?” Chase asks with a frown, finishing his protein bar and throwing the wrapper away.

  All I can do is nod.

  “Allie?” Marissa asks. “Is that going to work? Chase won’t mind coming here and staying here, right? Unless he has other plans...”

  “No, no. I don’t think he does. Hang on.” I cover the mouthpiece to the phone and Chase walks over to me, putting his arm around my shoulders. The faint scent of salt and sweat, plus soap and spice, makes me wish we were already in California.

  In that bed.

  “Marissa’s offering to let us stay at her place. One of her roommates is out of town and there’s an empty bedroom there.”

  His face splits instantly into a very dangerous grin, the hand on my shoulder sliding down the back of my ribcage to rest lightly on my hip. “Really?” he says in a low, sexy voice.

  I can’t help but laugh. “Really. But I told her we’d be much happier if I just slept with her in her room and you get the spare bedroom all to yourself.”

  He pretends to be sad. “Sad Chase,” he pouts. He points to his face. “This is my Sad Chase Face.”

  I can’t stop giggling. I can’t believe I can be this happy. For eighteen years I have lived as if the world didn’t have this kind of joy in it. Turns out it did, all along.

  I just had to find the courage to search for it.

  “What’s up, Allie?” Marissa asks as I stand there, thinking. “I have to get to the bank before it closes. I got paid today and need to deposit my check. So how far away are you guys?”

  Chase can hear her, so he just says loudly, “About two hours. Three if traffic’s bad.”

  “Hi, Chase. Nice to ‘meet’ you.” She puts an emphasis on the word meet with her voice. “And you must know L.A. if you know about the traffic.”

  “Nice to meet you too, Allie’s sister.” I punch him. He knows her name. I’ve told him plenty of times. He smiles, “Marissa, I mean. Yeah, I’ve been to L.A. a few times. Gotta show Allie the ocean. Nice to make someone’s dream come true, you know.”

  “Oh,” Marissa says with emotion. “That’s so sweet of you. I can’t wait to meet the guy who’s making my sister so happy.”

  “Can’t wait to meet you in a few hours, Marissa,” he says back, giving me a silly look.

  A few hours. In a few hours I’ll see the ocean. Kiss Chase at sunset on the beach. Hang out with my sister.

  Ignore the fact that a Mexican drug lord expects me to be delivered by my stepdad to use me as a sex toy and take my virginity however he wants.

  Wow. That thought comes out of nowhere. I mean, not literally nowhere, because it’s true. But does the truth have to be so, well...true?

  “Allie? Allie? You there?” Marissa’s voice sounds far away, like her question echoes down a long, metal tube. Chase’s hand gently closes over mine and he puts the phone to my ear.

  “Yeah,” I mumble. “I’m just kin
d of tired, you know?”

  She laughs. “You can’t exactly sleep on the back of a motorcycle, can you?”

  I perk up. The tiredness comes from feeling overwhelmed. I know it well. Out here, I don’t have to feel like the world is sinking in around me. On the road, I have Chase.

  “True,” I answer. “I just need some coffee and I’ll be back to normal.” As the word “coffee” comes out of my mouth, Chase lets go of my hand and walks with purpose back into the gas station. A car rumbles up, more rust than paint, and pulls in front of a gas pump. As the owner turns off the engine it rattles and bangs, like it’s not quite sure it’s ready to stop.

  I look down at my arm. There’s an ugly dark bruise.

  I feel like that car.

  “You be safe,” she adds, and we get off the phone. I eat my protein bar and finish my drink, throwing the trash in a garbage can. The sun is lower in the sky and I’m exhausted but impatient. Amped up inside and ready to get back on the road. I need motion. I need speed.

  “Here,” Chase says, coming toward me with a paper coffee cup.

  “What’s this?” I marvel. He’s smiling.

  “I got you a coffee. I wasn’t sure how you take it, so...” He bends down, puts his own cup on the ground, stands up and reaches into his front pocket. A bunch of cream containers and sugar packets fall out of his hands onto the seat of his bike.

  “And the fake stuff, too, if you like that,” he adds, tossing down a packet of artificial sweetener. By the way he crinkles his nose, I’m guessing he’s not a fan.

  “I like coffee with just cream,” I say softly, reaching for the little plastic containers. “Lots of it.”

  He gets his own cup and peels back the lid, showing beige coffee. “Me, too! How about that? No sugar and no fake stuff. Those chemicals will kill you. Rot your gut.”

  Fate, right? I laugh. “We’re meant to be together,” I chirp as I dump five creamers into my drink and take a sip. As I lift the rim of my cup again to my lips, his eyes lock on mine.

  “Funny,” Chase says, stepping toward me with determination. “I was thinking exactly the same thing.”

  Police sirens pierce the air. I jump at being startled by the sudden sound, and then two cop cars shoot right past us, the wind from their speed pulling my hair around my neck. My hand holding the coffee begins to tremble. My eyes see nothing but the residual blue and red flashes from their lights.

  As the sirens fade, Chase watches the cars until they’re eaten by the horizon.

  He turns to me and nods at my cup. “Drink more. You can carry it on the bike if you need to.”

  With my hands still trembling, I take a big sip. It’s cooling off now.

  “You can do that? How will I hold on?”

  He laughs. “Hell if I know. The old ladies in the clubs figured it out. You will, too.” A warm feeling shoots through me, glowing and bright. It’s not the hot coffee. Chase’s words give me hope for a future together.

  “Thanks,” I murmur, feeling fuzzy and good. I reach into my pocket to pay him back for the snacks and coffee.

  He looks at the bills I hand him like they’re dog poop. “You have got to be fucking kidding me, Allie. I don’t need your money. Save it for L.A. You’ll need it to live on.”

  “I don’t—”

  “I make plenty on my own.” He leans against the parking guard rail again and drinks his coffee. He’s taken off his jacket and sweat molds his tattered white t-shirt to his chest. The large winged wheel tattoo peeks out.

  I frown. It hurts, the skin feeling like it might tear. “How?” From the expression on his face I realize I might be heading into dangerous territory, but he’s a member of a motorcycle gang, right? I’d imagine he doesn’t earn a living selling Girl Scout cookies.

  “From selling drugs to four year olds,” he says, not looking at me.

  “Oh,” I say in a small voice.

  He makes a noise of disgust in the back of his throat and sighs. “Allie, I don’t sell drugs to kids who watch Sesame Street. I don’t sell drugs, period. It’s David who helps me earn my money.” Folding the bills I handed to him in half, he tucks the money in my palm.

  “David?” I’m really confused now. “How does David help you make money?” I knew David would never sell drugs. Not in a million years. His older sister is a huge meth addict and he is horrified by what has become of her. Their parents are heartbroken. David’s dad is the postmaster in town, and his mom is a nurse’s assistant at the retirement home in town. Our moms used to work together when mine was alive. Drugs aren’t something that is part of their lives.

  Until now.

  Leslie is a barfly a few towns over now, living in some musician’s trailer and supposedly selling herself for drugs. David wants nothing to do with that life. His parents have tried over and over to save her. Everything they give to her gets sold for drug money. The grip of meth is so strong. Learning that Jeff deals it makes me want to throw up. So there’s no way David would deal meth.

  “Remember we told you how David hooked my videos on YouTube up with an advertising account?” Chase says, drinking more of his coffee, calming down. I sense he’s hurt about something, but either I’m too confused, too tired, or too dense to understand what’s going on.

  “Yeah?”

  “Me and David make enough money off that so I don’t need to sell drugs or do most of the crap ass shit my dad wants me to do for Atlas.” My mind fixates on the word most. Most. He does some, though.

  Which leaves me wondering as my big mouth opens up and I say, “What do you do for Atlas, then?”

  His face closes up. “I deliver money. Not drugs.”

  “Who do you deliver it to?”

  As the sunlight mutes a little, the smooth skin of Chase’s face takes on a really burnished look. He’s sun-battered from being on his bike and exposed to nature so much. I’ve never been around a guy close in age to me who is such a man. David’s still mostly boy, and even though Chase is just a few years older than me, he feels like he’s so mature.

  As he struggles to answer me, someone on a motorcycle shoots past so fast my eardrums rattle inside my head. It feels like someone put a guitar string in my ear and twanged it. I hold my palms over my ears and Chase looks down the road after the bike, perplexed.

  “That’s a Mephist, and he’s gotta be doing a hundred and ten or more. Damn,” he says with a low whistle.

  A cop car shoots past just then. I’m glad my ears are already covered.

  “A Mephist? The rival motorcycle gang?”

  Chase nods, eyes still on the back of the cop car. “Wonder what’s up.” His phone buzzes just then.

  He ignores it.

  “Are you going to answer that?” I ask.

  His lips twist into a sneer. “Nope.”

  “Is it your dad?” I finish my coffee and pitch the cup in the trash can next to the guardrail.

  Chase ignores my question. His eyes are dark and while he’s not angry, I can tell he’s different. More shut down. “You ready to go?” he asks gruffly.

  “Yes.” I climb on the bike behind him and reach for the helmet. His hand stops mine.

  “Look, Allie,” he says, his breath coming out in a rush. “There’s a lot about me you’re not gonna like when you learn it.” He turns around and gives me a hard look. “So be really careful about what kind of questions you ask me. Be prepared for answers that might make you leave.”

  “Leave what? You? No. Never,” I say, staring back. My heart twists in my chest, but my eyes stay in place, right on his. “There is nothing you could tell me about yourself that would make me leave you.”

  He guns the engine and turns around, knees rising as he eases the bike forward. “You know what, Allie? Be really careful about making absolute statements like that.”

  “Absolute?” I shout over the engine as we gain speed.

  “The only absolute in life is that there aren’t any,” he shouts just as we take off and I can’t speak or hear.


  The problem with being on the back of a bike for a long ride with a guy you’re falling in love with but barely know is that all your private parts are jammed up against his ass and back.

  Plus, you can’t talk. At all. For the next ninety minutes I loop through everything Chase just said to me. Over and over. And over. My poor mind can’t take it. What does he mean? I already know he murdered a man to try to save his mom. I know Atlas deals drugs and Chase is part of it all. I’m sure he’s done awful things, and I watched him physically fight Frenchie and his own dad.

  And he put a shotgun in Jeff’s face.

  That one didn’t actually bother me, though.

  Whatever secrets he has, he needs to know I won’t shame him. I won’t judge. He’s lived a hard life in an outlaw motorcycle gang. It’s not like I expect him to be perfect. The guy watched his mom get shot, was made to live a life on the road with his dad, and yet he’s smart, doesn’t seem to be an addict, he has his paramedic’s certificate—and he’s awesome. He takes care of me. We have a connection I don’t understand, but I don’t need to understand it.

  I need to feel it.

  Some aspect of the air changes as the landscape turns more green. More hilly. My skin starts to feel fuzzy, and not just from the vibration of the motorcycle. It’s not yet dusk, but it’s getting there.

  At a stoplight on a long, two-way highway Chase turns and asks, “You okay? We’re an hour or two away. About to hit the major highways.”

  I grin. “Better than okay.” I squeeze him in a big hug from behind. “I can’t believe we’re almost at the ocean.”

  “I can’t believe you’ve never seen the ocean.”

  I can’t believe you really like me.

  CHAPTER SIX

  So many houses. So many. As we get closer to L.A. the houses get closer together, the hills rolling out before us like a welcome mat. I’ve never seen roads this wide, or so many traffic lights. The houses are tight together and soon I see green. So much green.

  The lawns are like something out of a movie. Do people really have green, thick lawns like this? I see sprinklers watering the lawns. Jeff never grows anything at our house. Says it’s a waste of water. Here on the edge of L.A. people seem to have plenty of water. It must be so expensive.