Devil's Fall: Dust Bowl Devils MC (5 page)

“I have money.” The words popped from her mouth before she could consider them.

He laughed. “You’re sleeping in a van.”

How much should she tell him? How much would it take to convince him?

She settled for half-lies. Anything that would buy her time. “I have a lot of money. I’ve just been hiding it. Have you heard about Glenn Moore?” She didn’t want to sound like she was begging. She hated that pitch in her voice, that extra octave that gave away her fear. “I just have to-”

He stopped her and turned her to face him. Her heart stuttered at what she saw. Conflict, hesitation, doubt,
yes, please, you’re not a monster, don’t do this!
“Listen, whatever you’re getting at here…” He sighed. “I don’t care. I don’t care about your money, or... fuck!” He stepped away from her, kicked up a clod of dirt, clenched his jaw so hard she could see the muscles in his neck straining. “We don’t do this. I don’t know what the hell is happening to us, the club, but we don’t
do
this
. I don’t want to kill you.”

“So don’t,” she whispered, cringing away from his tirade.

“Convince me, college girl,” he said, standing closer, leaning into her space and blocking out the sun. She looked up into his face, twisted with conflict, and wondered not for the first time just how unstable this man was. And yet, somehow, the heat between them was palpable.
We’re both walking a very thin line, here.
“Convince me that I can trust you.”

She
saw
him, then. Here was a man not so different from her at all - trapped by circumstances beyond his control, desperately unhappy, just plain lost. Maybe if she appealed to their similarities, if she made him see her as a fellow human being instead of just some “college girl,” maybe she could still get out of this.

“I know what it’s like to have very few choices and none of them good,” she said. “I have none right now, either. I’ve already got one dangerous person looking for me and I don’t need more. I need to see my sister and then disappear off of
everyone’s
radars. His, yours, hers if she won’t come with me…” she sighed. “What I’m saying is, your gang’s business is none of my business. And I didn’t see anything. And I planned on disappearing before I was anywhere near whatever ‘nothing’ it is that I didn’t see.”

The air about him changed as she spoke. Maybe he was convinced? He seemed sincere about not wanting to kill her - maybe she actually had a chance.

Then he pulled his gun from somewhere beneath his vest. She staggered a step back as her knees threatened to give out. Bile rose in her throat. “Wait-”

He fired twice, aiming at the ground, sending clods of grass and dirt bursting near her ankles. Then he tucked the gun back where it came from, out of sight.

His voice was low. “You have to abandon the van and everything in it.” She nodded. The sudden rush of hope made her light-headed as she stood still and let him speak. “And you can’t come anywhere near Heaven’s Highway, ever. Understand? If your sister doesn’t want to see you, you can’t stalk the parking lot again.”

“I understand.”

“This other person that’s after you. How dangerous are we talking?”

“Big money long reach dangerous,” she sighed. “White collar crime dangerous.”

He grimaced. “Okay, stop. I don’t want to know. Jesus. That’s your fucking problem.” He shook his head. “Rich people.” He looked her up and down again, and something else crossed his face - something a little too close to lust for comfort. She shifted and he shook himself out of it. “A disguise, then. Just enough so you can walk through a parking lot without being recognized.”

“I could cut my hair.” She was out of money for a proper haircut but she could afford a pair of scissors.

He reached out and touched it - just pinched a loose lock between his fingers, lost in thought. She held her breath. Why did he have to stand so close? She felt practically dwarfed by him - broad-shouldered and taller than her, just how she liked a guy, hard as they were to find for someone of her height. If only he wasn’t a gang member, if only he was somebody less dangerous.
Or maybe part of me likes the danger.

The emotional part of her wanted to cry and to hug him and thank him for letting her live. She was good at tamping down that part of herself, though. But she
was
feeling overheated.

“Get your stuff,” he said finally, withdrawing and heading back up towards the road. “I’ll take you to the closest motel.”

She bit her lip as she followed. That would kill the last of the cash she had. There’d be nothing left for food, nevermind for fleeing the town. She had her bus ticket to the west coast but she’d have to get to one of the bus stations along its route first, and the closest one was half a day’s drive away. “Can’t I just sell the van?” she asked. She’d bought it because it was cheaper than flying out and renting a car. Her big plan was to make the stops she needed to make to find her sister - her last one here in Colfax County - before reselling the van, getting on the bus, and crashing with a friend of a friend in California, just until she could save a little money and plan her next move. She knew it was a flimsy plan, but this was one hell of a wrench.

He smirked. “You’ve never been on the run before, have you?”

“No.”
I’ve never been this broke before, either.
She rummaged around the car and pulled out her phone and her purse. She packed a quick backpack full of belongings from the backseat - just clean clothes, toiletries - and left the rest behind.
Maybe another homeless person will live in it. It wasn’t as miserable as it could have been. Goodbye, ugly minivan.

He was sitting on the bike and waiting for her when she finally finished. He pushed his helmet into her hands. “What about you?” she asked.

His lip curled. “What sort of asshole do you think I am? You’re not cracking your skull on my watch. Get on.”

That was almost sweet.
She’d only ridden on a motorcycle a couple of times in her life, and none as big as Gunner’s. Climbing on was an undignified affair and her heavy backpack didn’t help - he had to push and shove her to help her up. He didn’t appear to be as exasperated as she felt at least - if anything, he looked amused. She wrapped her arms awkwardly around his waist, still conscious of the fact that this man had driven out originally planning on killing her. “Tighter,” he warned. When she hesitated, he grunted with impatience and hit the gas.

So much for being sweet,
she thought as she was nearly flung off the back. She locked her arms tight around him as he took off down the road like a rocket. Trees, shops, other vehicles whizzed by - apparently traffic laws did not apply to Gunner, gang member.

She had to keep reminding herself of that -
gang member.
She couldn’t let herself forget that she was still in deep trouble - that the man she was clinging to, with his rock-hard abs and deliciously strong arms, was dangerous. Maybe it was just the ride and the freeing feeling of the sun and wind on her skin, or maybe it was their closeness - she couldn’t shake the thought of how it would feel to plant her lips on his neck at that moment - the tanned skin and taut muscles beneath beckoned - she’d bet he tasted as good as he looked. She shook her head. She was just reacting to the relief of being alive, that was all. She was just grateful that he hadn’t killed her. Senna wasn’t the sort of girl to give in to silly impulses - she held back, turned away, focused on the scenery as it screamed by.
Keep it together, Senna. Don’t forget that he drove out here prepared to kill you.

The bike sped up and her heart beat faster.

◙◙◙◙◙◙◙◙◙◙

Too long or too soon later - she couldn’t decide - he pulled into the parking lot of the Little Blue Motel. It was small but appeared to be clean enough, at least on the outside. Oddly, no part of it was painted blue. It was all white with touches of green. He stopped the bike right in front of the front doors. “It’s no Hilton but they keep the pests out,” he said as he swung his leg over and off the bike, “Wait here.” He strode inside before she could protest.

There goes to last of my funds. How many nights can I afford, two? Three?
She wasn’t used to worrying about money, as much as she hated to admit it. Her family hadn’t lived the mega-rich lifestyle that Gunner seemed to imagine, but she’d never swiped her bank card and prayed it didn’t get rejected. She’d never felt anxiety while handing over a few dollars for a frivolous purchase. Now she was considering snack machine prices and the cleanliness of motel tap water. It wasn’t a good feeling - in fact it made her feel a little sick.

She glanced around the parking lot - it was fairly empty. She supposed people wouldn’t be inside in the middle of the day. This looked more like a stopover place for truckers and people on road trips. She wondered idly if they charged hourly - if it was
that
kind of motel - when her eyes landed on the newspaper dispensers next to the front door. “Glenn Moore Killed Two Months Into Sentence” was bolded right across the top of the national paper.
Making headlines again, Dad.
Fact was, he’d died five days ago. They’d managed to keep it under cover for longer than she’d thought they would.

Movement through the front doors caught her attention but she couldn’t seem to peel her eyes away. Seeing it in print out here in the middle of nowhere was like being doused in ice water.
Nowhere I run will be far enough. Will this follow me forever?

Gunner followed her gaze to the dispenser. “You said something about Glenn Moore before?” he asked, reading the headline.

She nodded. “He was my father.” That led to a series of revelations that would have been comical if she was witnessing it in anyone else, regarding anyone else. He cursed with each one, his tone changing depending on what he’d just realized. “Oh, shit.” Her father had just died and it was sad. “Oh. Shit.” He’d died in prison. “Oh, shit!” He was the big Wall Street trader who’d been starring in headlines starting half a year ago and straight through his high-profile trial. The media circus ended with his conviction - guilty of stealing large sums of money from his clients. It looked like the frenzy was revived with his death - they’d be talking about it on all the networks and in the papers for weeks.

“So this is why someone is after you?” he asked.

She nodded. “Not entirely sure. I think it’s someone who wants their money back and they think I’ve got some of it.”

“And do you?”

She didn’t know how to answer that one. “Yes” meant “I have money and therefore perhaps some bargaining power here with you.” “No” meant “Help me I’m poor I have nothing.” Truth was, she didn’t know. She was sure her father left her an inheritance but it would be so wrapped up with his crimes she might never see it. Especially if it was from stolen funds.
Would I still want it if it was?
She shook her head and settled for a sort-of lie. “I do have some… funds. I just don’t have access to them right now.”

He just nodded. “Well. Sorry about your dad.”

“Thanks.”

He leaned back against the dispenser and blocked the headline from the view. “So you’re a city girl,” he said with a smirk.

That was the last thing she expected him to zone in on. “Yeah. Wall Street, all that.” She shook her head. “I was in college up north, though. Just a little place in New Hampshire, nothing fancy. I had a year left…”

“College fund ran out?”

“Seized.” Why was she telling him any of this? She fished inside her purse. “How much was the room?” she asked, praying the number would be reasonably low.

“Don’t worry about it.”

She paused, wrist deep in tissues and receipts. “I can pay my way, Gunner. I don’t want to be in debt to you.” She supposed she already was, considering he’d spared her life. “Not further in debt, at least.”

He rolled his eyes. “Don’t take it so personally. This was a club problem so it’s coming out of club funds.”

She bit her tongue against continuing to argue. She really needed to save what little money she had however she could. He didn’t need to look so satisfied when she finally nodded, though.

He helped her down from the bike; they hadn’t ridden for very long but her legs were shaky. When she was steady on her feet, though, he didn’t release her - he gripped her shoulders tighter and leaned in close. “Do not let anyone but me inside the room, got it?” Her breath caught as he spoke. “My club will kill you if they find out that I let you live. Understand? I’m in enough trouble with them right now, I’m really sticking my neck out, here.”

“I appreciate it,” she breathed.
Understatement of the year.
In that moment when she’d realized how badly she wanted to live, she would have been willing to do absolutely anything.

“Stay put. I’ll be back in twenty.” He finally released her and pressed the keycard into her hands. “Room 109.” He still hovered too close and she struggled to respond; she was too captivated by his eyes, his lips, his entire presence. Warning bells rang in her head,
not good, not good.
He leaned in a fraction closer and she wondered for a moment if he was going to try to kiss her. She didn’t know if she’d be able to resist if he did; but she didn’t flinch. At least she had that.