Chapter 2
Chapter Two
RYDER
Rain hits my face like needles while my Harley tears through the Tennessee backroads.
I should’ve stopped hours ago. But I don’t sleep much anymore.
Not since I was overseas, since blood soaked sand and dead brothers became memories I can’t outrun.
So I ride. That’s what nomads do. Keep moving, breathing and don’t get attached to anything long enough to lose it.
Thunder cracks overhead. Then I spot tire tracks cutting deep into the muddy road ahead.
Three SUVs. Fresh and moving fast. My instincts sharpen instantly.
Military habits never really die. I slow slightly, scanning tree lines, exits, terrain.
Then I see it. White fabric tangled on a fence post. Veil.
My grip tightens on the handlebars. A quarter mile later, I find the rest of the problem. A woman stumbles barefoot across the road straight into my headlights. Torn wedding dress with mud-covered skin. Bruises hidden badly beneath makeup. Fear written all over her.
I brake hard. She freezes like prey caught in a spotlight. Jesus Christ. Her lip’s split with mascara streaks her cheeks. One sleeve hangs half torn off her shoulder. Then headlights appear behind her in the distance. SUVs. Searching. The woman sees them too and goes ghost white.
“Please,” she gasps. “Please don’t leave me.”
That’s all it takes. I jerk my chin toward the bike.
“Get on.”
She hesitates half a second before climbing on behind me, shaking so hard I can feel it through my cut. The second her arms wrap around my waist, the SUVs speed up. Wrong move. I twist the throttle hard. The Harley roars beneath us. And we disappear into the storm.