Hard Rider

I started to reply, then realized what a long fucking story this all was. Instead I called, turning down the volume on the Real Housewives of Someplace or Another and eagerly waiting for her to pick up.

When she did, the sound of her squeal about blew my eardrum out.

“Tanya! Where the hell have you been, sweets?!”

“I...” Shit. Now that I had her on the phone, I didn’t know where to start. “Did... did you hear about what happened at my stepbrother’s house?”

“No,” she said more quietly, “they’ve been keepin’ all that pretty hush-hush. I just saw the cops were there and the bomb squad and—oh, God, Tanya. It’s not that creep again, is it?”

I sighed. “Afraid so. Warn the girls, just in case he tries to come back to the club.”

I told her about the painting on the wall. About what the bastard had done to Jax, and how he’d more or less tried to blow me up. I told her about the picture he’d taken from Gunner’s drawer of me as a kid, and we both made gagging noises at the thought of what that psycho was doing with it now.

“Jesus, sweets. He must be one of them real crazies. He’s goin’ all Biblical on you. Are you sure you’re all right there all by yourself?”

“I think so,” I said, warily looking around. “The hotel’s pretty nice, so they’ve got good security. We managed to snag a honeymoon suite. It’s got a great view, plus all the amenities, and...”

And I couldn’t tell her more than that. Not without revealing our secret.

The thought hit me all at once. Gunner and I would never be normal. Even if we got through this little mess, we’d never be able to tell people the truth. We’d always be hiding from something or someone. Either we were siblings, or lovers. The world was pretty clear on the fact that we couldn’t be both.

Yet we were both. Fuck. What a mess. Maybe it was a good thing he’d kept me a secret…

“Ooh, sounds ritzy,” Chel said, sounding none the wiser. “So, when’re you gonna ditch the nice digs and come back to work in this shithole?”

“Never,” I told her. The sound of the word surprised even me. We both took a breath at the exact same time. “I’m... I’m not coming back, Chel. Not to the Domino, and not to any other strip club. Not ever.”

Tears of realization welled in my eyes. I wiped them with the back of my hand, and then laughed a little. “I’m out. I’m done. Really done.”

Chel took a moment to respond. She started to say several things at once, the high, squeaky pitch of her voice coming out in staccato bursts of nonsense. And then she laughed too, even though she sounded sad.

“Good for you, sweets. Good for you.”

“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “For leaving you—”

“Oh, Tanya,” Chel said, “don’t be stupid. Every girl in that club dreams of gettin’ out. Gettin’ away. Finding something, and someone, better than that fuckin’ death trap. We all dream of lives that aren’t dead ends.

“And you get to live it. How the hell could I not be proud of you?

“Just...” She paused. “Do you think we’ll still be friends? Y’know, after you’re gone? Are we gonna have anything to talk about?”

“Don’t be stupid, Chel,” I said softly, hoping she could hear the love I had for her in my voice. “Of course we will. You’re still my bestie. It’s not like the only thing we had in common was the pole.”

I could practically hear her rolling her eyes on the other end. “Get some rest, sweets. With everything you’ve been through, you’ve earned it. And don’t go lettin’ in any strangers!”

“Thanks, Mom,” I teased. A pang of regret stole my breath away. Shit, how I wished my mom was here. “I love you.”

“Love you too, sweets,” Chel said. “Be a good girl, huh?” Then she hung up the phone.

I sat back against the couch. I felt so free. So liberated. Maybe not from my secrets, but knowing I never had to go back to that place—to the Domino, to the Dollhouse, to anywhere that exploited women—it was like someone had lifted a mess of chains off me, ones I hadn’t even realized were there in the first place.

I ran my fingers through my hair, only to have them snag on a knot. I frowned. I needed a shower.

Thankfully, from the glimpse I’d gotten of it last night, I knew our hotel had a pretty big one.

I leapt off the couch at the prospect of doing anything other than twiddling my thumbs for the next eighteen hours and made a beeline right for the bathroom. I tossed my cell phone onto the counter and abandoned my sweats and tank top on the floor. No reason to pick up after myself when Gunner wasn’t around.

The heat was exactly what I’d needed, and the massage feature on the showerhead didn’t hurt, either. Sex with Gunner had been a workout, and every muscle in my body was sore. Delightfully sore, but sore nonetheless.

I closed my eyes and let the heat flow over me. This was bliss. Sheer, simple bliss. Right now, I didn’t have to think. I didn’t have to feel. I just had to let the rising steam carry me away far from where anything mattered.

Except Gunner kept crawling back into my mind. I couldn’t stop him. He was just... there. Invading every memory. Every personal space.

Like how he’d invaded my pussy last night.

It was no use. Nothing could take my mind off Gunner. I’d spent years trying to forget him, and now that I’d let him in, it was all going to be in vain. How could I forget the way he’d touched me? The way he’d looked at me last night? The hot press of his lips—his teeth on my neck—the sound of his wordless cries in my ear?

I smiled. Things could be worse. You got a lot worse memories to look back on.

That smile faded as soon as I’d had the thought. Was that what Gunner and I would be, in the end? A handful of memories? One or two nights of passion, and then back to the real world where people like us weren’t allowed?

And how the hell had it come to this, anyway? I’d wanted to keep him at arm’s length. I’d wanted out of his house. I’d wanted him out of my life. Yet here we were, closer than ever before.

You sneaky son of a bitch. How the fuck did you get into my heart?

I shut off the shower and grabbed one of the super plush towels from the rack, then another for my hair. Once I’d

twisted it up over my scalp, I wiped down the bathroom mirror. My phone was blinking.

I picked it up, expecting another message from Chel, or maybe a sexy text from Gunner. He’d made mention of wanting me to ache for him while he was gone. Wanted me to be a good girl and wait for him to get back before scratching that itch he’d instilled in me. He was probably busy waxing his engine or something, but hey, a girl could dream.

Except what I saw on my screen wasn’t a dream. It was a nightmare, coming from a blocked number.

O ROSE THOU ART SICK.

THE INVISIBLE WORM,

THAT FLIES IN THE NIGHT

IN THE HOWLING STORM:

HAS FOUND OUT THY BED

OF CRIMSON JOY:

AND HIS DARK SECRET LOVE

DOES THY LIFE DESTROY.

I held my breath, as if some part of me knew there was more.

And there was. Not a moment later, like he knew I was standing there in that bathroom reading his texts, he sent another.

YOU CAN’T RUN FOREVER, TANYA.

Chapter 17

Gunner

I pressed the new phone into Tanya’s hand, looking her right in the eye.

“No calls. The only people you’re allowed to call from now on are the police and me.”

I’d gone down to the convenience store on the corner and bought my stepsister one of those pre-paid burner phones you always heard about in spy movies. It was nothing glamorous, but I knew no one would be able to trace her number, so long as she wasn’t stupid.

And she wasn’t stupid. Which begged the question of why the hell she was acting like she was.

It still boggled my mind how that freak could have gotten a hold of her phone—the phone she’d only just bought, and with my credit card, no less—in order to clone it. That was the going theory, anyway. I’d watched enough TV to know that people only needed your phone for a second, then boom—they could read every message and hear every phone call. I hated how easy it was for creeps like this to do what they did.