I jump back, tripping over the wet clothes on the floor. My ass lands with a hard thud on the wooden floor and the back of my head slams against the dresser. The voices grow louder.
“I know she’s here. Get the fuck out of the way.”
“Fuck you. One more step and you’re a dead man.”
My heart beat drums in my ears as panic takes over. I’ve been careful. How did he find me? Frantic shuffling and crashing sounds jerk me from my frozen state. I scramble to my feet, sweeping my clothes up in my arms. He’s so close, I can hear his heavy breathing from the other side of the door.
I yank on my pants and shoes, quickly shoving my belongings into my backpack. I dash into the bathroom, clicking the lock into place. What sounds like gunshots rock the whole house, followed by the weighty thud of something heavy hitting the floor.
“Your muscle’s dead,” A menacing voice bellows from behind the closed bedroom door. A hard knot forms in my stomach as my eyes dart around the small bathroom. “I’m coming for you,” he taunts me. Dread sweeps through me as I look for somewhere to hide.
My eyes land on a small window above the bathroom toilet. I climb on the toilet seat and push the window up, wiggling my way through the small opening. A stabbing pain shoots through my arm when I drop to the ground. I force myself up, collecting my thoughts as my panic deepens. The sound of the bathroom door bursting open has me hitting the ground again. I duck, hiding in the shadows as a gunshot shatters the window above my head, sending glass shattering around me. I slap my hand over my mouth to keep my gut-wrenching scream from escaping and giving away my location. He’s getting closer. I’d rather die than go back, but I don’t want to die tonight. Pushing my back against the side of the house, I edge my way to the corner, my feet slipping in the mud as they move under me.
I run faster than I ever have. I run until my legs ache and my feet are sore, and then I push myself further. I run through a maze of tree lines and unfamiliar roads, trying hard to stay out of sight. When headlights break up the darkness, I turn and head in another direction. The pain in my side and the burning in my lungs threatens to take me down, but I don’t stop until I spot a familiar street sign. Breathing a sigh of relief, I allow myself a moment to catch my breath before staggering my aching body the last two blocks to my house. I rush through the front door, slamming it shut behind me and secure the two deadbolts and two chains I had installed. I check the blinds on the windows, they’re shut tight like they always are. I don’t need anyone watching me. Only then do I collapse at the kitchen table, allowing myself to catch my breath. My breathing slows, and anger replaces the fear pumping through my veins. I want to fuck something up. I want to make someone hurt as much as I do. Death follows me around like a shadow I can’t lose. It was foolish to think I could live a normal life. I made a grave mistake tonight, letting someone past my barriers, and Fuel paid the ultimate price for it: His life.
The right thing to do is to go back and check on him, but it’s too risky. I can’t go back there. I don’t believe in coincidences. That man was sent here for me. The only thing I can do is run. It’s what I’m good at. I search through my backpack until I find my wallet, but it’s not just mine I find. I don’t even remember snatching Fuel’s wallet, but I guess my subconscious intended to rob him. I’m not proud of it, but it’s what I do. I pick up random jobs to put a roof over my head and food in my stomach but rolling men for cash is how I stash enough money to run. Although, usually it’s a random man passing through town or someone I pick up at a bar, other than the one where I work. I know better than to fuck with the Krymson Destroyers. They have a reputation in this town and depending on who you ask, it’s a questionable one.
I remove three crisp one hundred-dollar bills from his wallet and add it to the wrinkled bills I made in tips. Rolling it up, I add the bills to the cash tucked away inside a coffee jar I hide in the kitchen cabinet. I try to convince myself that after Fuel’s sacrifice, he would want me to have it, if it could keep me safe. I have enough money to leave town, but there’s one thing I need to do first.
I snag scissors from the kitchen drawer and dash to the bathroom. With every snap of the scissors, chunks of my long blonde hair fall away. I snip and hack at the ends until the sheared edges expose my neck. Lowering the scissors, I open the medicine cabinet, searching the many boxes of varying shades of hair dye I’ve compulsively purchased. When I finally settle on jet black, I mix the application and drown my hair in the mixture. After setting the timer, I clean the hair from the floor and wipe out the sink. I’m in shock over the inches of thick blonde hair on the floor and remind myself that I have no other choice.
When the timer beeps, I step into the shower and rinse it out, scrubbing my fingers through the strange texture of short hair until the water runs clear. I step out of the shower and dry myself off, pausing in front of the mirror to study my transformation.
Not bad.
Something about this look empowers me. Like I’ve finally found my true self, and she’s not someone who wants to keep running.
Chapter 2
Chainz
––––––––
I’m in a shitty moodthanks to an unexpected trip up North. Tank, my Vice President and I had to sort out the mess Fuel, my Sergeant at Arms, got into with the Demon Sons MC. Not to mention the fucking downpour that kept us from returning home last night.
The only good thing to come out of the last twenty-four hours is our sit down with their President, Diablo. It bought my club time to make things right. I’m pissed that I had to eat crow on this colossal fuck-up. Not because I fear Diablo, but because our partnership with them is lucrative and peace between our clubs is the best choice.
