Chapter 2
Chapter two
Goodbye, Jimmy!
Roxy
I burst into the motel room, beelining for the bathroom to collect my toiletries. I had never had enough money for luggage, and I wouldn’t stop packing long enough to worry about it now. My mind raced, thoughts scrambling. I couldn’t think.
My clothes went into as many grocery bags as I could find.
I laid my change jar on top of the bags, opening and closing the dresser drawers until I found it—the tip money I had shaved off the top to hide.
Jimmy never looked in the drawers, so they had been perfect when I thought I needed a nest egg.
Sitting on the bed, I asked myself if this was the right call.
Am I really going to throw two years down the drain?
Panic ensued. Jimmy had been good to me.
Sure, there had been problems, but what relationship was perfect?
For a second, I talked myself into pretending none of this was happening.
If Jimmy is prospecting, Ripper will get first dibs.
They’ll pass me around. It wouldn’t matter.
I’d never escape that personal brand of hell.
Grabbing my things, I let the motel door slam behind me. I couldn’t take the chance of being wrong. The stakes were too high for me, even though Jimmy had been the one to create this mess.
Slamming the trunk down on my car, I was ready to take off—with or without him. I was sitting in the driver’s seat with the doors locked when I finally took a minute to breathe. I closed my eyes, trying not to feel guilty. What if I’m wrong? Jimmy was no saint, but it could have been worse.
Suddenly, I heard screams, but I couldn’t find the source. Sitting forward in my seat, I surveyed the rows of motel doors for any sign of distress.
“Don’t touch me,” I heard a woman scream. “Help me!”
It went silent. I didn’t have a plan, but I wanted to help her. I just couldn’t find which room she was in.
“Please. Please don’t hurt me.“ That could be me—screaming behind a closed motel door, hoping someone would save me.
Turning the key, my car started, and yet, I still hesitated.
The screams continued, but I was too paralyzed to move.
A truck pulled into the lot, and I recognized some enforcers from the club.
Stopping right in front of my car, the back door opened.
Jimmy jumped out of the truck, wearing a club cut.
Every doubt I’d buried hit me like a gut punch. I had to get out. Now.
He knocked on my window as the rest of the men watched. I rolled it down just enough so he could hear me. “What are you doing?” he asked. He spoke with measured words. I had never heard him like this. “What the fuck are you doing?”
“I know how you get when the gas is low…I forgot to stop. I figured I’d go fill it before showering.” It sounded plausible, but I needed him to buy it.
He made a humph sound and waved the men off. “They thought you were running, but you’d never do that to me. You’re mine.”
“No.” It barely scraped past my throat. He had said it before, but this time, he meant it. He believed he owned me.
“Hang on a sec,” he said, walking around the car to the passenger door. I didn’t have a choice but to unlock it. “I’m hungry,” he said, sitting in the passenger seat.
The drive to the gas station was heavy. It wasn’t far, but each turn felt excruciating. Left. Right. The air in the car was suffocating as neither of us said anything. I nearly breathed a sigh of relief when I turned into the lot, finding an empty pump.
Jimmy opened the door, heading for the convenience store.
He hadn’t given me money for gas, and that was another strike.
He’d stopped paying for daily expenses, claiming he couldn’t find work.
I had kept us afloat, and now, it was obvious I would pay with my body to give him the lavish lifestyle he craved.
I observed as he opened the door, not bothering to hold it for an older tourist. His head bobbed over the aisles, and I watched as he grabbed a few things. He hadn’t asked whether I wanted anything.
I hadn’t turned the car off. I didn’t think as I put it into gear, driving off into the sunrise.
Goodbye, Jimmy. You chose this.
***
I kept checking my rearview mirror for motorcycles. No one followed, but that didn’t ease my anxiety. It wouldn’t take much for Jimmy to alert the club that I was missing.
Putting miles between me and them, I wasn’t sure where I was going.
I didn’t think Flagstaff was far enough.
I stopped to get some sleep in Phoenix. The city seemed too large, so I kept moving once I felt refreshed.
Tucson was too dirty. I didn’t know where I would end up, but when an exit sign appeared, I didn’t hesitate.
I was tired of the highway, but the scenery was pretty. That was all I cared about, for now.
I let the road guide me, listening to whatever country station came in through the radio. I was singing along with a man who’d lost his girl when I heard it.
Thump.
I had seen nothing in the road, so I ignored it, singing loudly again.
Thump. Kerplunk.
Yup, I had a flat tire in the middle of the desert.
I pulled onto the shoulder and sat in the blast of air conditioning.
It was hotter than Satan’s ball sack, and I wasn’t enthusiastic about sweating my ass off while changing the tire.
At least I was doing something for myself.
If Jimmy were here, he’d be standing over me, yelling at how slow I was going.
I was just about to close my eyes when smoke rose from under the hood. More shit I don’t fucking need. Quickly turning the car off, I sent up a prayer that once this was over, the car would start again, and I’d be on my way. This was just a minor inconvenience, or so I told myself.
The tire was the easier of the two, but I thought twice as I opened my car door.
The desert sun hit me square in the face as I stepped around to the trunk.
Moving all of my shit to the back seat, sweat soaked my tank top, but the tire wouldn’t change itself.
Grabbing the wrench and the jack, I was determined to save myself and get the fuck out of here.
It didn’t escape my attention that I was the only living soul. No truckers—not even a lost car—passed me. I wasn’t afraid, but I was smart enough to know I needed to move quick.
A humming noise surrounded me. The land was so barren that the sound bounced off the mountains in the distance.
It was coming closer, each beat matching my pounding heart.
I didn’t want to admit it was a motorcycle as I crouched in front of the tire, wrench in hand.
I tried to work faster, but nothing seemed to go my way.
My legs shook as cramps settled in. A motorcycle zoomed past me, and I breathed a sigh of relief.
I didn’t want them to think I needed their help.
I’d do this myself, even if it took all night.
I heard the motorcycle again. This time I turned my head toward the sound, hoping I was wrong.
Dust kicked up in the distance, and my chest tightened again.
He was coming back. Alone, with no one watching, I’d forgotten what it was like to be a woman.
I went back to the nuts, keeping my ears pinned to the sound, listening as it rapidly approached me.
A man’s voice rang out as he killed the engine. “There are coyotes in these parts. Are you planning on asking for help or waiting to be bait? Animal or man, it doesn’t matter.”
“Don’t need your help,” I said, keeping my eyes on the nut, like loosening it would unravel me. I figured if I kept my head down and didn’t give the biker a sign I gave a shit, he would lose interest and go away.
“I didn’t offer.” His voice was wary, as if he thought there was more to this situation than there was. I had popped a tire, and if I wanted to get going, it was going to need to be changed. That was it.
“Of course, you didn’t. A biker rolls up and assumes he’s the white knight,” I muttered, but when the biker groaned, my head shot up.
He’d parked his bike behind my car, but he still sat on the seat, feet planted in the dirt.
I watched as he pulled the bandana away from his face and let it hang around his neck.
Dirt streaks covered his forehead, and there was an obvious line between where the bandana had sat and the bottom of the sunglasses he wore.
“So you’re the obstinate princess. Got it. Doesn’t make me want to help you any better,” he said, unclipping his helmet from underneath his chin. The veins in his arms stood out, all strength and power.
Been here, done this. It only made you run.
“I could get that changed for you.”
He’s just a biker. Don’t be a sucker for a bad boy, Roxy.
I went back to work on the lug nuts, but as I cranked the wrench, it slipped, smacking my knuckles.
“Ouch!” I cradled my injured hand to my chest. I bit back a scream, tasting blood.
Pain wasn’t new, but I’d forgotten I had an audience until he exhaled through his nose.
I lurched upright too fast. My legs gave out, dumping me into the dirt, slamming my hand against the ground. The pain radiated up my arm.
“If you’d just asked me nicely, I could have been done by now.”
“Who says I’m not already regretting every minute of this?”
“Fuck this shit,” he said, throwing his leg over his bike. He approached me with measured steps, one foot in front of the other. I tried to look away, but my eyes constantly calculated how close he was. My pulse picked up with each measurement.
I didn’t see his club cut until he came closer—the one-percent patch sending a chill down my spine.
My stomach knotted. I’d just left a one-percent club, and here was another.
Is this going to be a common thing? I knew enough.
He wasn’t a man to play with, and I couldn’t run. He’d probably give chase.