Ride Forever Read online

  Sloane

  Chaser’s admission had all kinds of messed-up thoughts swirling in my mind.

  I knew he wasn’t able to save Madison, but if she’d been able to fight, would her fate have changed? I didn’t know enough about her to answer that question. I knew I had the strength to pull the trigger if I had to, but in a situation like that, where I only had my fists? I wasn’t so sure.

  People could stew over what-ifs their whole lives and never be prepared for the future. In the grand scheme of things, I didn’t know much at all. I was just a woman who’d become brilliant at hiding. Scratch that. Marini had always known where I was, so who the hell knew what I was good at other than shooting my mouth off with clever words.

  “Chaser?”

  “Hmm?”

  “I want you to teach me how to fight.”

  Chaser glanced at me, the lawn chair he was sitting on creaking. I hoped it didn’t break under his weight. All the furniture up here was so sun bleached even the metal had turned brittle.

  “I can fire a gun, but all the other stuff…” I trailed off and shrugged. “It’s just… We’re going to be here for a little while yet, and I know I’ve kicked a few bad guys in the balls already, but I can’t help thinking it was all just dumb luck.”

  Chaser threw a look over his shoulder, his skin glistening with sweat. “Up here?”

  “Where else?”

  “If you get cut, you’d have to get a tetanus shot.”

  “Don’t wrap me in cotton wool, Chaser.” I rolled my eyes and let my head fall back.

  “You’re the last person who needs cotton wool,” he drawled, grasping my thigh.

  I wondered about Madison then. I remembered the woman from the photograph Chaser had in his wallet and couldn’t picture the man he was now with a sweet-looking woman like her.

  “What was she like?”

  He tensed but didn’t pull away. “You really want to know?”

  I couldn’t imagine what he’d felt the night he saw Madison die. I knew he was worried about the effect shooting Marini had on me, but it was different. The man was my father, but I never loved him. Not since I was that innocent little girl whose mother tried to shield her from the brutal reality of her life. Besides, I’d come to terms with his betrayal a long time ago. What Chaser went through was different. He genuinely loved his wife.

  I didn’t know if I was being stupid or not, but I was still jealous of a woman who’d died seven years ago. At least a little bit. She still haunted his dreams.

  “I suppose I don’t.”

  “It’s not a competition, Sloane.”

  “Wherever there’s a roof, you seem to find it,” I said, ignoring his statement. “Why’s that?”

  “I like high places,” he replied with a shrug.

  “You can see the stars better up here at night.”

  Chaser glanced up to where the moon hung, a white wisp against the blue sky. “It’s a perspective thing.”

  “Perspective would be helping me prepare before heading into one of the many layers of Hell,” I quipped. “As much as I love our fighting and fucking and these deep and meaningful conversations you loathe so much, I need to be able to protect myself. What if we’re separated like we were on the train, huh?”

  “It’s my job to protect you.”

  “Nuh-uh, it was your job. Now it’s our spiritual right to protect one another. Tits and cocks have nothing to do with it.”

  Chaser snorted, his lips quirking.

  “Besides, it’ll give us something to keep our minds off the avalanche of shit hurtling toward us.”

  “When you say it like that…”

  He rose from the lawn chair and held out his hand. I grasped it, and he pulled me upright before kicking away the chairs.

  “We’ll be okay up here?” I asked, shielding my eyes from the sun.

  “No one can see much of anything,” Chaser replied, clearing away some of the ruined furniture. “I haven’t seen a single other person come up here.” He pointed toward the main office. “I overheard the clerk saying the place is only at a quarter of its capacity. We’re good.”

  “You’re good at ‘overhearing.’”

  “Surveillance,” he corrected. “We don’t want to draw too much unwanted attention.”

  “Brilliant,” I drawled. “I don’t want anyone seeing me get my ass kicked, so that’s perfect.”

  Chaser went over some basic self-defense moves with me that he’d learned as part of his basic cop training. He’d worked on the beat in LA before doing the whole FBI thing, so he assured me he knew a thing or two about subduing little shits who thought they were big men with their guns and knives.

  “Most of the time, you only have a few seconds to react,” he began. “A fight is about gaining control and dominating, even if it’s just about getting away and not…”

  “Killing?”

  “Yeah, that.” He pursed his lips before continuing, “Aim for the parts of the body where you can do the most damage while anticipating his or her moves.”

  “Sounds easy when you put it like that,” I said.

  “It takes a lot of practice. Whatever you do, don’t step any closer than you have to. Here,” he said, wrapping his fingers around my wrist. “When you go for the upper half of the body, use your hand. Your palm goes up to crack the nose. The outer edge can strike the neck. Or a fist to the throat.” He pressed his fist under the curve of my ribcage, putting light pressure beneath my lungs. “With enough force, you can push the air out of your attacker’s lungs.”

  His pointers made a lot of sense. I thought about some of the situations I’d found myself in, and an image came back to me of the night I’d first met Chaser. I’d intended to pack up and leave rather than be dragged back to Fortitude, but unfortunately, the Hollow Men, who I’d thought Chaser was making up, had found me first.

  “Do you remember that night at Teasers?” I asked. “When Pube Face Bailey had me…” I gestured, my hands waving in the air. “You know…”

  “I know.”

  “How would I get out of that?”

  “Bent over with a knife at your throat?” He raised his eyebrows. “With a lot of trouble.”

  “So, I was screwed…” I glanced away.

  “Sometimes, you’ve got to take a hit to get out of a situation.”

  “You think I should’ve let him…” I choked and felt like giving him a back eye to match the one he already had.

  “I’m talking about the knife.” He strode toward me and curled his hand around the back of my neck, then tugged me forward. “Know where your veins are. This one…” He traced a line down what I supposed was my jugular. “This one you protect. It gets cut, you bleed out in seconds. If you tilt your head the other way slightly, you just get a knick, but you gain ground on your attacker.”

  I nodded, swallowing hard. “Maybe we should…try something else.”

  Chaser’s eyes darkened, and I felt his free hand trail a line down my back and over my ass.

  “Are you hard?” I asked, my mouth falling open. “At a time like this? This… This is serious business.”

  “Can’t touch you without getting hard,” he murmured, lowering his lips toward my ear.

  “You’re insatiable.”

  “Hmm…”

  “We can’t do anything without an orgasm, can we?” I asked with a smirk.

  He grunted as he moved his hand to the front, slipped a finger under the crotch of my jeans shorts and delved inside me.

  “Chaser…” I gasped as his palm pressed against my clit.

  “Fighting is one thing,” he whispered. “Cardio is another. They work best together.”

  “Is that so?” I raised an eyebrow. I didn’t mind wild sex but on the roof when we were supposed to be keeping a low profile? Maybe another time.

  “I’m going to take a shower,” I said, pulling his hand away. “Want to join me?”

  “Hell yes.”

  The motel room was dark and sl
ightly cooler than the furnace of the outside world. Taking off my sunglasses, I tossed them onto the table where they slid across the surface before coming to rest beside Fortitude’s grand executioner. I tensed, a strange melancholy coming over me.

  “You okay?” Chaser asked, closing the door and blocking out the last of the burning sunlight.

  “Yeah… Just tired, I guess.” Picking up the revolver, I stroked my thumb over the mother-of-pearl. “Taking a life… It’s so final.”

  Chaser nodded, prying the revolver from my grasp. “What we need to do to survive isn’t easy.”

  What was that thing Sam told me after Harley had been shot? He’d been a good man once. Well, as good as he was able to be under the circumstances. Fortitude changed him for the worse, tapping into all his violent tendencies and amplifying them. What if the same thing was happening to me? This whole plan to take out my father, then King… What if I was headed down the same path? One kill had become two, and there would be more and more. How many people did I have to murder until I lost myself?

  “I don’t want… I don’t want to turn into Harley…” I glanced at Chaser, who narrowed his eyes.

  “You don’t want to turn into me?”

  “No, I didn’t mean… It was something Sam told me before she left. This life turned him into a monster…”

  “She told me the same thing,” Chaser said. “Don’t worry, Sloane. I know what happened to me, and that’s why I push you to confront things. That’s why I’d prefer to take the gun out of your hands and take your place. I don’t want you to go through the shit I have. Especially not because of me.”

  “I know. I…” I glanced at the revolver. “It’s not who I killed with it. It’s the fact I killed in the first place.”

  Chaser cupped my face and rubbed his thumb across my cheek. “I don’t want to say it’ll get easier because it won’t. Just…”

  “Just what?”

  “Just don’t do what I did. Don’t shut it out.”

  I nodded slightly, leaning into his palm.

  “Promise me.”

  “I can’t,” I whispered.

  Chaser’s intentions were noble, but I knew I was going to have to go to an even darker place before this was over. I just hoped to hell I wouldn’t lose my soul along the way.

  Chapter 5

  Chaser

  I squinted at the cell phone screen, angling the map in different directions.

  The Halcyon Casino and Resort was the ultimate in Las Vegas luxury, a five-star hotel sitting above a bustling casino, and home to theatres packaging run-of-the-mill strip shows into tastefully erotic stripteases and live sex into titillating fantasies come to life. I could imagine the massage services at the day spa.

  On the surface, it looked just like any other casino on the Strip, which it was to the foot traffic that wandered in off the street, but the adult-only vibe resonated the deeper into the building people went. It had the families running in the opposite direction. Fast.

  Sloane rolled over on the bed behind me and sighed. I felt the same way. All the talking over the past couple of days had me emotionally exhausted. At least my black eye was fading. My rugged good looks were coming back with a vengeance.

  “What are you doing?” she asked, sitting beside me, naked as the day she came into this messed-up world.

  “We need to get to work,” I replied. “We can’t wait for Gasket. It’s not realistic.”

  “Now who’s getting impatient.”

  “Fortitude could be dealing with the renegades for years,” I went on. “They could have joined a rival club or be devising a strike on the compound. We can’t bank on their help with the Hollow Men. Besides, there are still things we can do while waiting for the heat to die down.”

  “I know,” Sloane said in agreement. “What do you have in mind?”

  “It’s been a long time since I was undercover. Things would have changed. The best place to start is contacting some old informants from my FBI days.”

  Her brow creased. “Is that smart?”

  “It’s a risk, but the Hollow Men know our faces. We can’t just walk into that casino and expect not to be picked up on the security feeds. They’ll have facial recognition.”

  She nodded, realizing our predicament. “So we need another way in.”

  “I know a guy. It’s a long shot, but he might have some actionable information.”

  “An informant?”

  “Yeah. I kept in touch with him for a while after Madison died,” I explained. “I’d planned to go back in and finish off King, but other things got in the way. It’s been a few years, but I think it’s worth the risk. He wanted to see the Hollow Men dismantled as much as we do.”

  “Common enemy…” she mused. “Who is this guy? Is he FBI?”

  “No.” I shook my head. “Guys like him are usually criminals looking for a deal. They’ll turn for anyone who’s got something they want. A get out of jail free card, money…”

  Sloane grimaced and reached for one of my T-shirts I’d flung over the back of a chair. Pulling it over her head, she muttered, “Somehow, I don’t think we’ve got anything he wants.”

  “Like I said… It’s a long shot. The guy was flaky back then, and when he realized I wasn’t going to do anything about King, he split.”

  “So now that we’re on the hunt, he might want back in?”

  I shrugged. “Assuming he’s still around.”

  “Okay, so when are we going?”

  I glanced at her and narrowed my eyes. There was no way in hell I was putting Sloane in a vulnerable position. She didn’t need to be there, getting her face more known than it already was.

  “No,” I said. “You’ll stay here.”

  “What did I say about wrapping me in cotton wool?” she exclaimed. “I want to go. I need to be a part of this, Chaser.”

  “And I don’t need you spooking the informant,” I replied, keeping a lid on my anger. I admired her strength, but there was this thing she had with letting it snowball into stubbornness. “Besides, I don’t trust him. There’s a chance he’ll pull a double cross the moment I show my face. Like I said, allegiance can be bought.”

  She hissed and leaned back in the chair, resting her foot in front of her. Hugging her knee, she eyed me warily. “I don’t like it.”

  “It’s a risk.”

  “A really big one. When are you going?”

  “Now,” I replied.

  “Now?”

  “If I want to catch him unawares, I need to make this a fast turnaround. The less chance he’s got to rat me out, the better.”

  Sloane sighed, and her shoulders slumped.

  “We’ll only get one chance at this,” I murmured. “We’ve gotta do it right.”

  “I know. I’m just…worried about you.”

  I kissed her on the lips and leaned my forehead against hers. I traced the curve of her lips with my thumb, studying the dusting of freckles across her nose and cheeks, and breathed in her scent.

  “This is what I do,” I murmured. “I’ll be fine.”

  Las Vegas hadn’t changed much over the past seven years.

  The Strip was wall-to-wall people, the heat was unbearable, and the neon was still in overdrive, as were the showgirls hustling wide-eyed tourists to pay ten bucks for a selfie.

  Pushing past a man touting the latest triple-X sex show, I turned down the seediest lane ever and found my way to the back streets. No one in their right minds came here unless they were trying to rob someone, score the latest hard drug, or had a death wish that landed in the gutter.

  After all these years, I still couldn’t get over how dull Las Vegas seemed to my eyes away from the flashy casinos. The buildings ranged from beige to gray, the roads were cracked like mud that had baked too long in the sun, and even all the plants looked like the constant barrage of UV rays was bleaching them.

  Monroe’s was a classic American diner that sat just north of the Strip, but it may as well have been in another wor
ld. Watching the building from across the street, I wasn’t surprised to find the place empty. Back in the day, it used to be bustling. There would be a row of motorcycles sitting out front, a brawl would spill out onto the pavement at least once a week, and the bacon, eggs, and pie flowed like the information Monroe himself gathered for the highest bidder. Until the Hollow Men tightened the screws. That had a lot to do with me, unfortunately, but I wasn’t a remorseful kind of guy.

  Thirty minutes waiting in the sun was enough for me. I crossed the street and slinked down an alley a few buildings down, then circled back toward the diner. Waiting by a dumpster wasn’t my idea of a good time, but Monroe would have to come out eventually.

  Fortunately, I didn’t have to wait long. The back door opened, and Monroe stepped out, caring a full garbage bag. He was a middle-aged African-American man, Las Vegas born and bred. I remembered him being this muscled monster of a man, but he’d put on a few pounds and had evolved into a different kind of solid.

  I watched as he lifted the trash into the dumpster, bottles clinking. Didn’t he know recycling was a thing these days?

  I coughed, and the man jumped, spinning on his heel.

  “Gunnar Mason,” he drawled the moment his gaze met mine. “Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.”

  “Still shoveling shit, I see,” I retorted, leaning against the wall.

  “I thought you’d be six feet under by now, man.” He shook his head and closed the lid on the dumpster. Reaching into his breast pocket, he pulled out a pack of cigarettes and flipped it open. He offered it to me, and I shook my head. “Shit, and you gone straight, too. No smoke?”

  “I quit.”

  “You quit a lot of things, so I sees.”

  “Life has a messed up way of coming full circle.”

  Monroe eyed me, then glanced up and down the alley. “Come in. It’s fuckin’ hot out here.”

  He opened the back door for me, and I stepped into the dreary diner. The kitchen was just as empty as the front, and the sole waitress could be seen through the partition, mopping the floor of the restaurant.

  “Heather, take a break!” Monroe called out.