Chapter 1
Ava
Whump. Yet another dark shape sweeps in front of me, overtaking way too close. I flinch and tap the brake as the truck’s slipstream buffets my little car. I know I drive like a grandma, but seriously, what is with everyone on the road today?
I squint at the string of red taillights fading into the darkness ahead. And how did I not notice night has been falling?
Because I’ve been too focused on getting this metal box down the highway in one piece, that’s why. I swear, when this drive is over, I’m going to order the biggest plate of nachos in the universe, washed down with a frozen margarita. Make that a jug of margaritas.
I click my tongue. Who am I kidding? Like I’m going to sit in a restaurant by myself.
That independent chick exists only in my dreams. I’ll probably celebrate my arrival in a town where I know not one single person by grabbing some takeout and taking it back to my motel room.
Then I’ll curl up with my latest romance novel, and dream about being swept off my feet by a billionaire with a jaw of steel and a secret soft center.
Never gonna happen, I know that. All my life, people have been telling me my dreams are dumb.
Unrealistic. But isn’t that what dreams are for—to help you forget about the harsh realities of life?
Well, now I’m escaping that life. To a small town, which has a reputation for being kind of unfriendly.
But it has a bookstore, which offered me a job.
And working in a bookstore happens to be one of my more practical dreams, so that’s good enough for me.
And believe me, I’ll be grateful for whatever life I can scratch together in Perdue.
Almost anything will be better than the place I came from, and the family I was raised in.
Heck, there might even be some nice, normal guys there.
Ones who don’t have names like Gasher or Skull.
Guys who might be open to dating a chubby, unrealistic bookworm.
A white fleck hits the windshield. And another. Then a whole bunch of them.
Snow?
It’s way too early for snow. The leaves still have their fall colors.
It’s so unexpected, it takes my brain a moment to catch up and understand that I need to flick the wipers on.
Plop, plop, plop. The flakes are falling faster, minute by minute. Before I know it, the wipers are going full speed. Weird. I disconnect my phone from the audio and scan for the local radio.
Crackle… crackle… whine…
I fiddle with the buttons some more.
Blizzard… blowing in… advised to avoid travel unless necessary…
“Crap!” I don’t hear so well, but I get the message—a freak weather event is about to hit.
Probably why the highway’s been like a racing track all afternoon.
Everyone’s been trying to outrun the storm.
Everyone except for little old clueless me.
I should’ve checked the weather forecast before I made this crazy bid for freedom…
Which I would’ve done if I… if I wasn’t myself, basically.
The road ahead looks a lot emptier now and snow is rapidly covering the blacktop. I drag my eyes away from the windshield and glance at the GPS. Fifty-two miles and just over an hour to Perdue. Am I going to make it before the blizzard really hits?
What choice do I have?
I swallow down a burst of nerves.
Just drive slow and careful, Ava. Or you won’t be going anywhere.
Another car sweeps past me and I grip the steering wheel so tight my fingers ache.
My wipers are going like crazy, but it’s getting worse and worse. I can barely see thirty feet ahead, and the whole world is turning white.
Double crap. I dart anxious glances at the road signs. Maybe I should pull over at a gas station, wait it out?
Or maybe I’ll wind up there all night, stuck in my car.
Better keep going. I’ll be in the town soon. And then I’ll be safe.
I slow right down, turn on my hazards. But it’s not enough.
The tires don’t feel stable. They’re not designed for snow.
I work to keep the steering steady, but the car keeps making little skids, each one jangling my nerves.
A strong wind is whipping the snow back and forth, and visibility is almost zero.
I puff out my cheeks. This is dangerous. I’ve got to stop. I spot the red and yellow glow of a gas station, emerging from the snow slurry. It’s coming up fast. I turn on my blinkers and pull into the exit lane—
And suddenly the car is not gripping the road at all.
My heart jumps into my mouth. I’m turning, turning. Holy crap. What was that about steering into a skid? I panic, jerk the wheel too hard, and lose control of the car. I let out a scream as I plunge headfirst off the road, into an endless expanse of white…
Stinger
Motherfucking snow.
I snarl at the whitening world through the windshield of my rig.
I’m already late with my shipment. My last drop-off kept me waiting while they checked every last damned detail of the cargo. And now this. A goddamn blizzard. At least a month too early.
It’s falling heavier now, coating the blacktop with a layer of white.
I cut my speed again, and growl as the expected arrival time on my GPS turns later and later.
I’ve been on the road for sixteen hours already, and I was planning to schedule in a couple hours’ shuteye.
But that’s not happening now. I’ll just have to drive straight through.
Not a problem though. I’ve got a thermos full of caffeine, and a truckload of bitterness charging my veins. And it’s not like I’ve got anywhere else to be.
I blew past Perdue a half hour ago, and it stirred up all those thoughts again. All the shit I try to keep tamped down so it doesn’t turn my beast insane.
Perdue was my home for a while. For a year or so, I had a pack, like I’d always dreamed of. But that went sour, like things always do. At least in my life.
Got kicked out. Chased out of town.
My old Alpha’s words burn in my ears again:
Get the hell out, Stinger. I tried to do right by you. Took you in when everyone told me not to. But your animal’s too feral to be in this pack.
Wish I could shake them loose. But I can’t, because he was right, and I hate that he’s right. Hell, if he hadn’t kicked me out, I probably would’ve killed half my packmates. Not on purpose. My wolf just has too much alpha in its blood, and it can’t quit challenging.
Still, I hate every one of those motherfuckers and their stupid rules. Always wanting me to be different from how I am. Quieter. Move civil. Less fighty.
Well, screw them all.
So here I am, on the road again. Transporting shit for MCs, mostly. Back and forth to the border. No questions asked. It’s contraband, but I don’t give a crap. No human jail is capable of keeping me in, anyways.
Wind swirls, shoving the snow sideways. I can hardly see shit.
Just a few taillights disappearing into the distance.
The road is almost empty. Just me and a bunch of other semis.
Most vehicles have had the sense to get off the highway, thank fuck.
The snow is no big deal for my rig, but means I’ve got to be even more watchful of idiots who drive too close, ride right in my blindspot like they’re tempting death.
A sedan overtakes me recklessly.
“What the fuck?” My beast lets off a snarl. I honk on my horn, roar up right behind them and flash my lights. My skin prickles as my fur tries to push through. I’m gonna force them onto the roadside, bawl them out. Make ’em sorry they were born stupid.
But, wait, what’s that? Something else—off to my right, a little car trying to pull a sharp turn into a truck-stop gas station.
For the life of me, I can’t figure out why, but something seems more important than getting in a fight. Well, that’s a first.
I ease back on the gas, and let the idiot in the sedan get ahead of me, while the second vehicle captures my attention.
“Can’t turn like that in these conditions, lady,” I growl.
Fuck. I’m right. I pass and watch in my rearview as the driver loses control and the little red car goes into a skid, before spinning off the road and shooting headfirst into a bank.
That’s gonna be hell to deal with. Good job it’s right by the gas station, though.
Someone must’ve seen it happen. Or the next person who pulls into the station will go help them.
I keep watching in my mirrors, until the little vehicle is only a red speck in the distance. She won’t be hurt. It was only a little bump. The snow would’ve cushioned the impact, too. She’ll be just fine—
A jolt goes through me.
How do I even know it’s a she?
I just know. My beast knows. And it’s whining, ears all pricked up.
Go back.
I startle. It doesn’t usually communicate with me, as far as females are concerned.
“I don’t have time for this,” I grunt.
But what if no one saw?
What if she hit her head and she’s unconscious?
Shouldn’t leave a woman by herself like that.
A sign for the next exit emerges from the whiteout.
Somebody else will help. Someone better at dealing with women.
Because that’s sure as hell not me.
But what if that person doesn’t have good intentions?
My wolf frets and paces. What is up with it? It’s never been like this before.
The exit ramp appears in the distance.
I hiss out a sigh between gritted teeth.
Then I tug on the blinker, pull into the right-hand lane and take the exit.