Just then, I hear the roaring thunder of dozens of motorcycles circling the mansion. A moment later, Reaper and all the men he could round up at this hour flood the room. They pour in from broken windows, down the hall, and through the back. I wonder if any of them saw which way my goddess went.
Knowing backup is here, I give myself permission to go after the enigmatic woman with deadly green eyes. I want her fight and fury. I want her sassy mouth and sexy curves that I tried not to notice. More than that, I want her trust. Her surrender would be so sweet. I’d caress her silky skin while confessing my undying loyalty, giving my body, heart, and soul to her.
It takes a second to process these overwhelming and unfamiliar thoughts, but it feels right. Like this is the real reason I survived all these years; to chase after my curvy warrior goddess until I’m worthy of her love.
How did my entire life change in the blink of an eye? Wasn’t I just saying relationships are pointless and women are distractions? Then again, I’ve never met a woman like my little goddess.
Once I’ve accepted my new purpose in life, I sprint out the back door. Looking around frantically, I almost miss the rustling of leaves up ahead and slightly to the right. The forest is thick all the way out here, with nothing but the Colorado moon to light the way.
Still, my heart senses hers. I hardly even know what the fuck that means or who I’ve become, but it doesn’t matter. Nothing else matters except getting to her.
What’s her plan? She’s running through the forest at midnight, no shoes, in lacy lingerie, carrying a loaded gun that I’m worried is going to accidentally fire off. Where is she going? And why can’t I fucking find her? I hear an exasperated sigh, and somehow know it belongs to my curvy queen. The soundbounces off the trees, making it nearly impossible to discern where it’s coming from.
That’s okay. I’ve always liked a challenge. Something tells me this woman is going to give me a run for my money, which will make her capture all the sweeter.
2
ATHENA
“It’s around here somewhere.Fuck!”
I curse under my breath while my bare feet pound against the forest floor. Sticks and pinecones stab my skin with each step I take, but I hardly feel them. I don’t know if I’m numb from the cold or the adrenaline. I don’t care, either, as long as I get as far away from the auction house as I can.
Branches tear at my hair and what little clothing I have on. I’m sure a chunk of my long, brown locks has been torn clean off, as well as several lacy scraps of fabric.
How the hell did I end up running through the Colorado woods, nearly naked, with a gun tucked into a bra that isn’t mine? What the fuck has become of my life? I left the trailer park just to end up here? With no options, no family, and no plan?
The bombardment of questions makes my head spin, so I focus on finding my go-bag. I know it’s close. Once I find it, I’ll have a change of clothes, cash, and a few other essentials for getting through the next few days.
Growing up with my mother and her string of increasingly volatile boyfriends taught me to be prepared to leave at a moment’s notice. I’ve been woken up by everything from junkiespounding on the side of the trailer looking for their next fix to police raids, fist fights, gun shots, and everything in between. When things got too intense at home, I grabbed my go-bag and laid low until the storm passed.
I thought I was done with all that when I found my father a few weeks ago. After a lifetime of thinking he was dead, my mom finally admitted he’s some big deal biker in Colorado who never knew I existed. She didn’t think that was enough information for me to find him, but she underestimated me, like always.
At twenty-one, I was long overdue to move out and get away from the filth and crime that stained my childhood. I figured paying my dad a visit would be a great place to start my new life. Everything was great. Until it wasn’t.
My foot comes down hard on a jagged rock, and I pitch forward, landing on my hands and knees. The gun tumbles out of my bra, and I squeeze my eyes closed, half expecting it to go off. I’ve been around plenty of guns, most of them obtained illegally, but never had the desire to shoot one. That didn’t seem to matter when I stormed out of that auction house, pointing my newly obtained weapon at anyone who gave me a sideways glance. I felt powerful for maybe the first time in my entire life.
After a moment of silence, I pick myself up off the ground and grab the gun. The auction is only about a mile away from the clubhouse, and I know my bag is on the stretch of land between the two properties.I have to be close to that damn tree where I hid… Ah-ha!
When I first arrived at dear old Dad’s clubhouse, I almost let my trusty go-bag sit in the backseat of my car. I was so sure I wouldn’t need it. That part of my life was over.
Thank fuck my cynicism ran deeper than family ties. Before introducing myself to my long-lost parental unit, I placed my bag next to a giant oak tree and covered it with leaves and debris.
Once I have the black duffel bag in my hands, I take a breath for what feels like the first time in days. Some kids had a safety blanket or a comfort plushie. I had this worn, black bag with netted pockets on the sides and an extra large pocket in front. My fingers glide over the different textures, noting the slick toughness of the canvas, the light, almost soft feel of the mesh pockets, and the cool metal of each zipper. I’ve memorized every inch of this thing while hiding out in various locations. Pathetic, I know.
Twigs snap somewhere behind me, reminding me of where I am and what I need to be doing. I quickly throw on the hoodie and leggings from my bag, followed by socks and sneakers. I complete the look by gathering up my hair and tucking into a black beanie that slips down past my eyebrows. If anyone is looking for a scantily-clad, barefoot woman with long hair, they aren’t going to find her in these woods. Not dressed like this.
I place the gun in the duffel bag, next to my burner phone and dwindling wad of cash. I had nearly a thousand dollars when I left West Virginia. Between the gas, food, and lodging, I’m down to my last two hundred bucks. At least it’s enough to get a room somewhere for the night and figure out my next steps in the morning.
I was planning on using the forest as cover while I walk back into town, but I swear I hear more twigs snapping and leaves rustling behind me. Maybe it’s best if I stick closer to the highway. The road isn’t very busy, and even less so at this time of night. But maybe I’ll get lucky and find someone to hitch a ride with.
As I walk along the side of the mostly deserted highway, I realize I may be escaping one kind of danger just to end up inviting a new kind of danger into my life. But, it’s not like I have a lot of options here.
The giant bright headlights of a semi flash ahead of me, and I retreat into the brush as the large vehicle whizzes past. I may be hitchhiking, but I know better than to get in a semi truck. For all I know, he could be hauling another shipment of women to replace all of us who escaped tonight.
Another car approaches me about ten minutes later, or possibly two hours - it’s hard to tell time under these circumstances. This time, I notice a woman behind the wheel, probably the same age as me. I’d feel safer with her, but I’m not sure if she’s naive enough to pull over for a stranger on the side of the road with her thumb out for a ride.
I breathe out a small sigh of relief when the car slows down. The driver stops next to me, though they haven’t rolled down their window yet to talk. I realize I must look sketchy with my all black clothes and black hat, so I remove the beanie and let her see my hair and face. The woman’s shoulders visibly relax, and she leans over the console of her decades-old Cadillac to open the passenger door.
