Chapter 3 #2
Not wasting another second, my bike roars to life, making me wince as I kick the stand up and rush through the now closing gate with a prospect turning a blind eye and locking the gates back up.
Not everyone in the club is bad but it’s only a small handful to a full army.
My heart races along with my engine the farther I make it away from the compound.
It’s either crawl on my knees behind Cruz for the rest of my short miserable life or fly fucking free.
It’s simple, live or die.
I’m going to live but where the hell is Doris sending me?
* * *
I know a curve is coming up on the deserted road ahead of me just outside of the Mojave Desert and it’s the perfect spot to crash my bike.
It’s far enough away from the Jokers and plenty of time to mislead them because once they find out I’m gone…
a manhunt will begin. Cruz will never let me go free unless it’s on the river of the dead.
It’s only a matter of time until he finds me, the Jokers have eyes and ears everywhere. This will at least buy me some time.
The hot desert sun is already beating on my back in waves, the wind just as restricting and it’s only been an hour since I left the compound.
They're probably already getting up and doing the usual club business shit. My time is running out and I can’t stop clenching the handlebars because it’s hard to let go of something that actually had a good memory for me.
My bike starts to lean with the curve straight ahead and I twist the throttle one last time for a bit of speed before releasing the gas.
This is going to hurt.
My hands slowly release the handlebars on the curve going just a little over thirty, my bike gliding with the road and it almost feels like I’m flying with my arms stretched out over my head just for a second.
I reach back quickly and unstrap my duffle bag with one hand, hugging it to my chest just as the bike wobbles under me.
My crotch rocket starts tipping to the side, my body moves with it until I’m pushing my feet off footrests and falling onto the asphalt with the bike crashing to the ground, skidding along the road, causing sparks to fly.
I keep sliding along the road on my side in a momentum that makes me feel breathless, my body rolling and bouncing off the burning hot road with rocks digging into my back.
My leather jacket and helmet offer some protection but my jacket is ripped to shreds and my helmet scratched to hell by the time I come to a stop.
I lay there, trying to catch my breath and take in the injuries to my body.
My leg is burning and something hot drips down the side of my calf but other than that, I’m just real fucking dizzy.
Sitting up with a grimace, I take my helmet off with a head shake and pant with each breath.
I slide off my jacket mournfully and chuck it into the desert with my anger.
Sitting there in the freaking middle of the road in the middle of nowhere, I pluck at my ripped skinny jeans without looking at my throbbing leg, feeling pity for myself.
It takes me a minute but I eventually gather the courage to look over at my bike.
A whimper escapes my mouth as soon as I see my bike broken on the side of the road, pieces literally scattered across the ground.
It’s a heap of metal, unrecognizable beside the stripes of purple that glint off the steel chrome.
The Jokers will be able to tell it’s mine once it’s called in.
A motorcycle crash will make it back to the club even this far out.
They stick to their own kind and news travels fast. The Jokers practically run Las Vegas.
I’m really feeling that dull ache in my leg the moment I stand and it takes a lot not to look down as I start limping away from the wreckage in the opposite direction. The helmet means nothing to me now, tossing it into the pile of broken pieces seemed like a good idea.
I’ve been walking for what seems like an hour, sweat gathers at my hairline and the sun is blaring down on me at this point that it’s hard to tell in the distance if a car is heading my way or if it’s a fragment of my imagination.
I’m praying it’s a car that is willing to take a passenger.
Almost scared to look, debating if I should make a run for it in the desert because what if it’s Cruz?
He would drag me back kicking and screaming from the underworld just to torture me himself.
I can’t help it, my body angles off the road onto the dry dirt but a rush of air expands from my lungs when I see it’s just a truck driver.
Sticking my thumb out, I walk backwards and try to appear normal.
As if I’d know what that looks like. The trucker honks his horn, it’s a guy which I can tell by the low ball cap and beard from my lower position from the ground, and he starts to slow down near me on the side of the road.
Yeah, probably not the best idea to hitchhike with a stranger but what are my options?
Besides this guy is probably a freaking daisy amongst a field of poison ivy.
He leans over and opens the door with a friendly smile, warm brown eyes with crow’s feet at the corner.
“Hey, little lady, need a ride? Always wanted to say that.” He chuckles at his own little joke as I hide an eye roll before stepping up into the truck with a small jump and grabbing the oh shit bar to heave myself up onto the seat.
He isn’t a bad looking guy, pretty young for living on the road.
A nice smile, friendly brown eyes that don’t frighten me, and doesn’t have an overbearing air about him.
If I was a normal girl, I’d probably want to date a guy like him if I was looking for a normal, boring future.
A family man, simple life. Too bad that’s not for someone like me.
Hiding a wince from the pain in my leg, I shuffle in the big seat until I’m somewhat comfortable. He waits for my answer, not even putting the truck into gear.
“Um yeah. You wouldn’t be heading to Las Vegas near the strip by chance?” I have to clear my throat a few times so my voice sounds not so scratchy from walking in the middle of the desert for God knows how long.
“Sure am! Want a water?” He asks, but is already leaning back for a bottle of water, his face is suddenly very close to my boobs as he tries to reach behind his seat.
He seems to notice this at the same time when he pauses and stares before shaking his head. He quickly sits back up in his seat, handing me the water and blushing a bright red.
Hmm... maybe this trucker isn’t one of the bad ones. He’s kind of cute in a lumberjack way even with the slight dad bod he has going on and the beard probably covering a baby face but it works for him.
“Thanks.” I turn away from him, his staring making me uncomfortable as if he’s looking for something in my gaze. I twist the cap off to chug the water with a moan because it feels so good going down my dry throat.
He clears his throat and starts the semi, finally heading south on the open road towards the city of sin.
It’s funny, I think sin shouldn’t be defined in one place because everyone is a sinner in one form or another.
I guess more are drawn to a city that is made for sinning and gives you an excuse to be bad where the secrets stay.
Too bad that’s my life definition everyday.
“So, why Las Vegas? Did you have some car trouble, that's why you were on the side of the road?” He’s already nodding his head like that explains it and I’ll let him keep thinking that, guess we were doing the small talk.
I prop my elbow on the windowsill and stare outside to see the desert, that all looks the same, pass by in a blur.
“Yup, car trouble. Can you drop me off on south main street at the Greyhound bus station?” I try to keep my tone neutral and bored so he doesn’t suspect anything because who wouldn’t when a girl is walking alone on the deserted road?
I mean come on, my pants are ripped up at the knees with a bloodstain on my calf and my white tank top is sticking to my skin from sweating. I’m not exactly the most put together right now.
“Where are you heading from there?” He asks slowly and I turn to look at him staring at the road with furrowed brows as if he’s starting to finally question why I’m out in the middle of nowhere.
“Visiting family.” My lame excuse rushes out to make him believe that something like that is as simple as it sounds, which works when his expression clears so I try to direct the conversation somewhere else before he asks more unwanted questions. “How long have you been on the road?”
He sits up straighter and flashes me a smile before tapping the bobblehead of a woman in a Hawaiian skirt. He couldn’t be any more normal and boring if he tried.
“Me and my girl here have been on the road for a couple of years after getting out of school. It’s the easy life, ya know?
Just me and the open road. I always wanted to travel the world and this comes pretty close to it.
” He winks and takes his ball cap off to nervously scratch his brown hair that’s surprisingly not receding before placing it back on top of his head.
“Gets kind of lonely though but we sign up for this stuff all on our own.” His expression falls and damn if I don’t feel bad for him.
I completely understand being lonely even when you're in a crowded room, all you have is you and yourself. The only difference is this guy chose to get in this truck and live his life to the happiest he can… me not so much. Choices get taken away. It’s in that moment when I notice that I have a choice right the fuck now.
I’m out in the open, not under Payne's thumb with watchful eyes. I may be on the run but it’s my decision.
I’m just going to have to be careful to not end up back in that monster's fingertips.
“Totally. Hey, what’s your name?” I’m going to remember this trucker who helped give me an escape even if he didn’t know it. He’s really one of the good ones out there.
“Adam. What about you, little lady?” He draws out with a chuckle, tipping his hat at me in a cheesy manner.
This I have to be careful with because I haven’t decided what to do about my name. It’s a way to come up with something new but it’s just easier to go by Tillie. I’ll just have to give a different last name.
“Tillie Jones. Nice to meet ya, trucker Adam.” I offer a hesitant smile which only causes him to practically beam at me and stick out his hand for me to shake.
I eye his hand like it might somehow bite me and decide this guy can’t possibly hurt me more than I already have been.
My hand clasps his with a small shake before I quickly let go and fiddle with the radio to offer a distraction because that small touch is freaking me out.
A simple, common touch shouldn’t scare people but it does for me.
I’ll never be normal. The rest of the ride is quiet except for the random questions he asks with the radio softly playing in the background.
My shoulders gradually relax somewhat but it’s only the beginning of my journey and I’m automatically taught to trust no one.