by Cross, Amity
Yvette pouted and looked me over. “I can’t believe I told Sloane to fuck you.”
I raised my eyebrows. “Is that right?”
“How is she?”
“Fighting.”
“She was always good at that.” Yvette craned her neck and gave Sam the once-over in the car behind me.
I slid off the hood and opened the passenger side door.
“Your ride is here,” I said, tapping the roof.
Sam got out of the car and sized Yvette up. Immediately, she combed her fingers through her knotty hair and wiped the back of her hand across her mouth.
I snorted, earning myself a glare from Sloane’s BFF. I could see why she intimidated other women. She was pretty and all, but she wasn’t Sloane.
“Hey, I’m Yvette,” she said, smiling at Sam.
Sam glanced at me, and I nodded.
“We’ve got a long drive ahead of us,” Yvette went on. “We can get to know one another in the car. Are you hungry? We can get something to go if you are.”
“Chaser already got me something,” Sam replied.
“Good. I’m glad his surly ass was thoughtful enough to feed you.” Yvette turned her attention to me. “You look after Sloane, okay? I’m holding you responsible if anything happens, you got that?”
“Sure,” I drawled.
“Is he always like that?” she asked Sam as they walked off.
“Yep.” Sam gave me one last look, mouthing the words thank you.
I waited until they were in the car and on the road before I turned away. The things people did for Sloane never failed to amaze me. Gasket, Yvette, me. But she deserved it, right? Look what she’d just done for Sam, a woman she’d known for a little under a month. It was always something with her. Passionate, reckless, and completely selfless. Sloane had a definite sense of right and wrong.
Gasket was right about one thing. Fortitude wasn’t for her. I wondered what would happen if she managed to take it over.
Shaking my head, I got back into the car, backed out of the space, and turned back the way I’d come. Back to Los Angeles and Fortitude.
Back to Sloane.
As the lights of Tulsa faded in the background, I thought about the things Sam had told me.
Maybe it was love, after all.
Chapter 18
Sloane
I knew Chaser would be gone for a few days, but it alleviated none of my stress.
The entire compound was on tenterhooks after Marini had executed Harley. The garage was alive with talk, not all of it pro-Fortitude, either. It was my chance to sow some seeds of dissent among the ranks, but I hesitated in the wake of what had happened.
I was a fool if I thought I could take the club without someone dying in the process. A big fucking fool.
The morning after the chaos, I was changing a tire under Gasket’s supervision when I overheard talk about Sam. People were going to notice, especially those with malicious intentions and hard dicks.
“Kane was recruiting a group last night,” Spike was saying. “Talkin’ about takin’ turns and all at once.”
“We would’ve stopped them,” Ram said. “I know we do some pretty fucked-up things in the name of Fortitude, but there’s just some shit I can’t tolerate.”
“She’s gone,” Watts added. “She got out.”
“She got out, or someone helped her.”
Eyes turned toward me, and Gasket nodded at the spanner in my hands.
“You’re not putting enough tension on the bead breaker,” he said. “You’ll never get the tire off the rim that way. Put your back into it, girl.”
“But…”
“I know, but you did your part,” he murmured. “Your part in her story is over now.”
“So I’m just supposed to change fucking tires and not do anything about gang rape?”
“No one gang raped anyone,” Gasket said with a scowl. “You put a stop to that, but if it becomes common knowledge…”
Yeah, I knew. The sound of the gunshot that killed Harley had joined the one I’d been responsible for out on the road. What a fucked-up harmony.
I glanced at the bikers across the garage who were still talking about Sam’s disappearance and swallowed a pile of vomit. They were decent considering what they were—Spike, Ram, Watts, Rhodes, and co—but the rest of the club I couldn’t vouch for. They were the men I wanted to lead, not the violent, psychopathic followers my father had cultivated.
“Yeah, but it’s just for now,” I muttered. “Saving one woman doesn’t fix the problem.”
“Damn, we’ll be here all day.” Gasket snorted and nudged me aside. Taking the bead breaker, he wedged it between the tire and the rim, and the rubber came away from the metal.
“You need to work on your muscles, Sloane,” Watts called out.
“Yeah, you got a set of weights?” I shot at him. “Give ’em here!”
“Focus on what you’re doing,” Gasket said, leaning over me so the other men couldn’t hear what he was saying. “Your life is just as valuable, kid.”
“I know.”
“Doesn’t seem like you believe it.”
“I believe it.” I hissed.
“When Chaser gets back, we have to talk,” he said. “The time for watching and waiting is over.”
“Do you know something?” I straightened up, the tire forgotten.
“I don’t trust Marini,” he said.
There was a slight hesitation, but I didn’t press it. He knew something, and my bet was Chaser did, too. If Gasket didn’t trust Marini, then that meant my time here was running out. Yeah, we were going to have a talk when we were all together. A long, in-depth and very animated talk.
Grabbing a rag, I wiped the grease off my hands.
“I need to take a break,” I said, nodding toward the compound. “Can I?”
“Yeah,” Gasket drawled. “Just don’t go breaking any more noses.”
“Low blow, pops,” I retorted, throwing the rag at his face. “Low blow.”
Flipping the bird over my shoulder, I was sent off with halfhearted laughter. They were still hurting after Marini blew one of their own away. There wasn’t a lot of love for Harley around this place, but he was still Fortitude. The remaining bikers were all watching their backs, wondering who would be next. That was the vibe I had to counteract. I had to give these men security. Fat fucking chance of that.
A civil war was brewing, and Gasket wanted to stoke the fires. When Chaser gets back, we have to talk. Pfft. I just had to look around to know only half of the club would up and follow me.
It was still hot as hell inside the compound. The whole place was as hot as a super volcano about to blow its top.
In the common room, there was another Real Housewives of Fortitude luncheon happening on the sofa. Shondra, Emily, Raquel, Kelly, and Sierra were gathered around an industrial-sized fan, their hair blowing behind them as it swung back and forth. They each had a tumbler of iced tea—who knew what the alcohol to tea content was—and were wearing bikini tops and shorty shorts. They did look awfully depressed, and it wasn’t a result of the humidity. So they did care.
“Hey, Sloane,” Sierra called out when she spotted me.
“Hey…” I eyed them warily.
After their reaction to Sam’s appearance yesterday, I wasn’t sure I could trust them. They’d been almost patronizing…up until the point the gunshot rang out. Psychological warfare seemed to be their usual MO, and I wasn’t down with it at all. I was a straight up in your face, tell it like it is kind of woman. It was probably why I got along with men more than those of my own gender. Hopefully, yesterday had shocked them out of their bad habit.
“You got a sec?” Shondra asked, beckoning me over.
Reluctantly, I ventured over to their little enclave. Kelly scooted over, letting me in on the edge of the fan’s sphere of influence.
“How are you?” Emily asked. “After yesterday, I mean.”
I shrugged. “How am I supposed to
feel?”
Shondra snorted and flipped her hair over her shoulder.
“I didn’t like Harley,” I went on, “but he didn’t deserve what he got. Killing… It takes something away from you.” And my dad had done a lot of it.
“You said you killed someone,” Shondra said uneasily. “Did you…”
I nodded. Yeah, I really did that.
An awkward pause halted our conversation, the droning of the fan as it blew around the humid air filling the gap.
“Sam’s gone,” Raquel murmured after a moment. “Her room’s empty, but all her stuff is still there.”
“People are saying she ran,” Sierra said, looking worried. “Where would she go? Everyone knew she had no family. None that wanted her, anyway. We thought we were it.”
“After what happened to Harley, she would’ve been…” Kelly trailed off, looking rather pale.
“It would’ve broken her,” Shondra said, her expression softening. “Sam couldn’t stay here. She’d already been through enough.” She glanced at me.
“She didn’t have any family?” I asked, feeling nauseous. There was so much to Sam I’d never even known, yet… She had a chance now she was out of Fortitude and on her way to Yvette. Yvette would help her get back on her feet, deal with Harley’s death, and start anew.
“She only had Harley,” Kelly explained. “She was kicked out of home at fifteen, and they moved in together. You know what shit is like. I think that’s why Harley joined Fortitude. He couldn’t support Sam or himself, so he did what he was good at.” She shrugged. “She hinted that things were different at the start. The club changed him for the worse.”
I nodded, studying the tattoo on my finger. Sam had said as much, but I hadn’t realized how alone she was. Not anymore, I thought to myself. Now she has Yvette. I know they’ll be best of friends. She’s so much like her.
“I never liked you,” Shondra declared out of nowhere.
“No shit.” I rolled my eyes, making the other women giggle, albeit nervously.
“But what you did for Sam…” she went on. “That was really something.”
“Who says I did anything?”
“We won’t tell,” Kelly said, keeping her voice hushed. “No one looks out for us. Our men do, but not everyone around here is as good as Stewie and Hopper.”
“And Ram,” Emily said with a pout.
“If anything happened to them…” Shondra began before trailing off.
“What we’re trying to say is that we’re on your page,” Raquel finished for her friend.
“All of us,” Sierra said.
Shondra held out her fist and smiled. “Anything happens, we got your back, girl.”
I raised my eyebrows, not knowing how I did it. If I did anything at all.
Shondra clucked her tongue and wiggled her fist at me. “Bump it, girl.”
Raising my fist, I bumped, causing the group to giggle like a pack of school girls. Thinking about high school and the cafeteria hierarchy I’d struggled with when I was a teenager, I smirked. There was no way these women would’ve been friends with me back then. I was so not a part of any crew. Popular, outsider, or anything. I was a solo troublemaker. Now I was emerging as a strong ally.
Maybe there was something in this, after all. The game wasn’t lost. Not completely. While there was a chance, I would still fight. For Chaser, for me, and for the women who were at the mercy of Fortitude.
“Oh, my God!” Sierra shrieked, causing my heart to spasm. “What have you done to your nails?”
“Hell, girl!” Raquel said, slapping her on the shoulder. “Give me a fucking heart attack why don’t you!”
Sierra grabbed my hands and looked like she was about to cry. Full-on flooding rivers of salty, salty tears.
“What?” I asked with a shrug.
“They’re ruined! Look at your cuticles! And there’s glue and acrylic stuck to them. Did you chew them off?”
“I work in the garage,” I said. “It’s not the place for pretty fingernails.”
“Stay right here. I’ve got to clean these up.” She clucked her tongue. “Oh, it’s horrible!”
Letting me go, she rushed from the room. The moment she was gone, the women giggled.
“Wow,” I drawled, not understanding why the state of my nails was so offensive.
“It’s her art,” Kelly told me.
“It makes her happy,” Emily said. “Let her fuss.”
“Your nails do look like shit,” Shondra added. “A little acetone bath never hurt anyone.”
“I’ve got a great moisturizer for after,” Raquel said. “You can lend it if you like.”
I blinked, the fan sweeping in my direction. “Uh, okay?”
Shondra smiled and pulled me into Sierra’s spot, which was a prime position in front of the cool breeze. “You’re one of us now, girl. Part of the crew. Get used to it.”
Staring at my nails, my gaze fell on the healed tattoo on my thumb. I wondered what my father would say about all this. Making friends, settling in. It all felt…temporary, and my heart sank like a rock. I had a bad feeling the past was about to repeat itself, friends or no friends.
Chaser… I thought to myself. Hurry back…
Chapter 19
Sloane
Staring up at the mass of metal above me, I scowled.
This was not the kind of ‘on my back’ I wanted to be. Underneath a car, spanner in hand, learning about oil changes and axle shock absorption whatever.
And the thing I was lying on didn’t exactly feel stable. Spike told me it was called a creeper, but that just made it sound weird, so I kept correcting him to luge. Luge sounded more badass.
Spike was beside me, pointing out what part did what, but I wasn’t having the best time focusing on any of it. This was all temporary in the grand scheme of things. Pretending to learn about nuts and bolts while Chaser was out there with Sam was hard. What if the Hollow Men reared their ugly heads? What if Marini found out what he was doing and had a bullet with his name on it? The moment he got back—if he got back—would the shit hit the fan and splatter? Not knowing was driving me over the edge. I wanted to be there. To be with him and never let him out of my sight.
“I need a break,” I declared, rolling out from underneath the car.
Spike followed me, grumbling all the way. “You’re never gonna learn if you don’t pay attention, Sloane.”
I rolled my eyes. I want to tell him to shove his car up his ass, but before I could get the words out, a shadow appeared in the garage door.
Chaser.
My heart soared at the sight of him. His gaze met mine, and as soon as our eyes met, he glanced away without as much as a twitch.
“Sloane?”
“What?” I snapped, glaring at Spike.
He narrowed his eyes, then looked at Chaser. “You look at him like…”
“Like what?” I scowled.
“Like you want to fuck his brains out,” he retorted with a grin.
I made a face. No wonder Gasket wanted to have a ‘talk’ when Chaser got back.
“What happened out there?” Spike went on. “When you and him…”
“People were after me,” I replied, not wanting to get into it. I had to sit here like a moron when all I wanted to do was run after Chaser and… Man, I was so gone.
“The Hollow Men.” Spike nodded.
“How…” I frowned, not understanding how he knew. I thought the Hollow Men and the shit Marini had gotten the club into was ‘need to know,’ meaning no one outside the inner circle knew about them. Spike was great and all, but he wasn’t exactly in the loop.
“Word’s spreading,” was his only reply.
Across the garage, I spotted Gasket talking to Chaser. They exchanged a few words, then parted. Chaser went into the compound, and Gasket went back to work. I desperately wanted to ask about Sam, but now wasn’t the time.
Word was spreading? I wondered if that meant dissent was rearing its ugly head. The
time for watching and waiting was over.
“So?” Spike asked, nudging my shoulder. “You’re into Chaser?”
I grunted and shook my head.
“Sloane, you really have to work on your poker face.”
“He took a bullet and got knifed for me,” I said. “I shot a man…” I glanced at the door, wanting nothing more than to go after him. “Did you see the way he just looked at me?”
“Chaser’s always been like that,” Spike replied. “That’s what makes him so unpredictable…and fucking scary.” He shook his head. “I can see why women are lining up for a ride, though. They seem to dig that whole dangerous vibe. He’s a good-looking guy—I get it.”
I raised my eyebrows, not liking the wistful way Spike was looking at me. Great. I was breaking hearts when all I wanted to do was break skulls.
Rolling my eyes, I shrank in on myself. “I guess I’m a woman, after all.”
Laying back down on the creeper, I scooted back underneath the car, signaling the conversation was over.
“Hey, Sloane?”
“No,” I shot back, my voice muffled by the car over my head. “No, thank you.”
* * *
I sat on the roof of the Fortitude compound, studying the rise and fall of the skyline, counting windows on the skyscrapers of downtown LA.
When I got Chaser’s message about a clandestine meeting up here, I could hardly contain myself. It wasn’t exactly the alone time I’d been craving since Gasket was meeting us, but it was a chance to be with him and not worry about burly bikers watching our every move. Up here, we didn’t have to pretend.
The rooftop door opened with a metallic squeal, and my heart leaped into my throat. Seeing it was Chaser, I smiled, all my bits zinging to life in a dirty and lustful way.
He swept his hand through his hair as he walked toward me, his jaw covered in more stubble than usual. He had been out on the road nonstop for two days, but the scruffy look definitely suited him. It gave him a wild edge that mad my ovaries go boom.
He sat beside me on the roof, leaning his back against the broken air-conditioning stack and kicking his legs out in front of him.
