(Breaking Away #1-3)
Publication date: March 2015
Genres: New Adult, Romance, Suspense
Synopsis:
Chase Halloway’s father is the president of Atlas, the drug dealing motorcycle gang that terrorizes most of our desert town.
My stepfather turns out to be a rival drug dealer, and I’m pretty sure he killed my mom two years ago.
I’m not supposed to fall in love with Chase. He’s not supposed to know I even exist.
But when he finds me, he can’t let go.
And when I find myself in his arms?
I hold tight.
I have to.
Because if I don’t, I might just die.
With or without him.
It turns out my stepfather has plans for me.
Plans that make dying look like a walk in the park.
He’s selling my virginity to a Mexican drug lord to get out of debt
.
Chase just found out and is here to take me away to safety. To the ocean.
To my dreams.
But while I’m gone, a murder takes place back home.
I receive a phone call. It’s the police.
I’m the prime suspect.
And if I go back, I may become the prime victim.
They say love conquers all, but can Chase save me from this?
Help.
I’m alone, tied up, bleeding and terrified.
I’m a prisoner at the Atlas motorcycle club compound. Someone kidnapped me, and it looks like it’s Chase.
No one knows I’m here. Then again, I’m no one, right? No mother, no stepfather, and my sister may have been kidnapped, too,
They can make me disappear. Or worse. It turns out there are worse things than disappearing.
I thought Chase was my only hope.
Now he turns out to be my worst nightmare.
Something flickers in his eyes, though. A glimmer of love. If I can get him alone, maybe I can convince him to let me go. To let me live.
To let me go back to a time when I thought he was a good guy.
Only Chase has the power to make that happen.
Everything I am is in his hands right now.
And those hands are about to touch me.
Finding Allie
by Meli Raine
Excerpt 1:
I feel the rumble of the motorcycle engines before I can hear
them. The glasses on the bar start to shake and I slip, dropping one. It falls
on the polished wood bar with a thud. Thank God it doesn’t shatter.
And then I hear them. Tires scraping against gravel. Engines
without mufflers. The air changes. I’m filled with worry, like someone’s
injected it into me. I reach up to put my fingers against my throat. I don’t
know why. I haven’t done that since I was a little kid, afraid of the dark.
Just plain afraid.
My stepfather comes running from the back office, his eyes
wild and arms tight with tension. His face is twisted with something I’ve never
seen before. For a second, it makes me want to smile. For once, he looks like he’s
nervous about something.
Good.
“Allie, you stay calm. Keep washing glasses.” His dark
eyes narrow and he goes back to being cool and collected. The deep grooves of
wrinkles in his face settle back to normal. His eyes are thin and tight, brown
underneath the loose skin.
He’s tall and wiry, fingers stained from chain smoking
unfiltered Camels. He looks at least ten years older than he is. My mother’s
death two years ago aged him. It aged me, too, but I wear it on the inside. He
wears it on his face.
Jeff has two emotions. Angry and neutral. I’ve seen a lot
of angry, but not much neutral.
He looks like he feels fear right now. That’s new.
I push my long, black hair behind one ear. I wish I had a
scrunchie to pull it back in a ponytail. August in the dry, desert heat of
inland Southern California means it’s always hot. Any other summer and I’d be
getting ready to go back to school, but I graduated this year. Late summer
stretches out like one hot, empty void.
Like the rest of a life I need to live but can’t.
The air conditioners have been groaning all day. The sound
of the motorbikes drowns them out now.
They are in the parking lot. Two. Three. Four. I can’t
keep track of how many bikes pull up. My heart races but I keep it together.
The last time a motorcycle gang came in, the bar got trashed. They beat Jeff up
and the sheriff came.
Jeff can’t afford to have that happen again.
Blood rushes through me, pulsing hard. My fear is loud and
clear.
He also got angry. Very angry.
I can’t afford to have that happen again.
Working at the bar is my only way to save money to move
out of this town. I want to go live with my sister in Los Angeles. If the bar
shuts down I don’t know what I’ll do. My hands polish the same shot glass over
and over, like it’s a piece of silver.
My heart dances in my chest. I look down at my t-shirt and
see drops of sweat trickling down from my neck.
The air is not that hot. I’m nervous. Terrified.
One of the bikers roars his engine outside. Another one
does the same. Jeff comes back out with his cell phone in hand and starts
talking angrily to someone on the phone. He is careful not to say anything loud
enough for me to understand. I can’t hear a word. I can hear his fury, though.
I finish the shot glasses and load them on the shelf where
they go. I’m shaking from the inside.
The main door opens a tiny sliver. Blinding sunlight pours
in like it’s invading.
And then he walks in through the door. The sunlight
behind him is a halo, like he’s an angel. A rough one. The most amazing vision.
Thick, scuffed leather boots with hard wooden heels crack
against the bare wood floor, one at a time. My eyes start with that first boot.
Then I see another. He wears jeans, the kind that are used to being on a
motorcycle rider’s body. His pants mold to thick, muscled legs.
He wears a red and blue patch with an insignia I can’t
see. Sunlight bounces off a thick belt buckle.
My blood runs cold and I freeze in place, my legs turning
to jelly. I lean against the counter for support. I’m glad it’s there. My fingers
need something to grab. My world is disintegrating under me. Looking at him
replaces the world.
He’s a member of a motorcycle club.
I gaze at the patch he’s wearing but I can’t see it very
clearly. It has a blue figure with red crescents on both sides. A warm rush of
blood fills my face. His thick leather jacket is dirty and well-worn, dark as
my hair and creased with age. A light-blue T-shirt sticks to his belly, slick
with sweat. I can see the ridges of his abs. My fingers want to reach out and
trace the lines of his muscles. I clench my fists so I won’t give in to the
impulse.
“Jeff here?” His first words sound like ragged smoke and
sunshine. My eyes meet his and he stays serious. We look at each other and time
stops. Just...stops. His eyes widen and his jaw tightens as he searches my body
with a look that says something I don’t understand.
But he feels what I feel. I can tell.
Pinpricks of heat from something other than the summer
weather shoot through me. He looks like he’s older than me, and he’s steady and
commanding. His hair is thick, the color of sand, and it’s messy, like he just
rolled out of bed. Wolfish eyes skim over me, but he’s not in a rush.
I can’t breathe. I can’t move. I can’t do anything when
he’s looking at me like that.
Please keep looking at me like that.
“Cat got your tongue?” he asks, his lips curling up in a
half smile. His cheek moves the lines around his eyes. Light brown eyes with
yellow chips, like someone shattered a gemstone. His eyes are like a lion’s,
the color of a mane.
His eyes are dangerous and predatory. I can’t look away.
“Uh, Jeff’s in the back,” I say as the door closes slowly
behind him, blocking out most of the light. I’m amazed that my mouth works at
all. My mind can’t think. My body sure can feel, though.
I pause. What if I said the wrong thing? Jeff might not
want anyone to know he’s here.
Vroom! Vroom! Engines blare outside. There are even
more out there now. How many could there be? The man’s eyes narrow. He’s
studying me. I like it. I don’t think I’m supposed to like it.
I can’t help myself.
“What’s your name?” he asks, a low rumble in his voice
making me shiver. I’m not cold.
“Allie.” I shift and jut out my chin to show him I’m not
afraid of him. “What’s yours?”
His grin widens and now he takes one more step forward. I
can smell him. His scent is sunshine and dust with enough musk to make me take
another deep breath.
He smells so real.
“Chase.” His name rolls off his lips. “Nice to meet you,
Allie.” He reaches one gloved hand out to shake, then stops.
Pulling the glove off, he waves his hand in the air.
“Sweaty.”
I clasp it anyway. It’s hot and slick. The touch of skin
on skin makes everything else in the world disappear. Our eyes meet and we
can’t stop staring. Am I imagining this?
“Nice to meet you too, I guess.” I look behind him, at the
door. “Why are you here?”
He laughs, tipping his head back. It makes him seem less
dangerous. “For a drink! This is a bar, after all.”
I smile, unable to tear my eyes away from him.
He’s staring right back.
The engines all trickle to silence. Boots scrape outside
on the mottled gravel parking lot. Are they coming in? My heart swells and
slams against my ribcage. If trouble is coming, I don’t know what to do. I’ve
never been here before during an actual fight.
“All of you coming in?” I ask. If they’re paying
customers, then this is fine. Jeff acts like this isn’t fine, though.
“Allie!” Jeff shouts from the back. “Get back here.” That sounds
like an order. Jeff likes to order me around.
Chase frowns. “He always talk to you like that?” His words
come out like a growl.
Surprised, I give him confused look. “Like what?”
“Like he doesn’t have to be nice.” His voice pounds
through me like a heartbeat. He is being possessive, like a protective
boyfriend. I only just met him.
The words sting because Chase is right. I swallow hard.
Chase’s eyes are combing my face as if he’s trying to memorize me. I look away
even as I wish he would watch me forever.
Chase. I want to say his name aloud simply to hear it on
my tongue. To feel it roll over my lips. If I say his name then he’s really
here, he really shook my hand, and he really is looking at me like he wants to.
Like he needs to.
“Whose stepdad is nice to them?” I ask lightly, like I’m
trying to blow off the comment. This is too intense. Too unreal. He’s right,
though. A little too right.
Chase’s fingers twitch and then his hand forms a fist.
He’s staring in the direction where Jeff’s voice came from. He looks back
toward the door where he entered.
“Good point,” he mutters, running his bare hand through
that mop of hair. It makes him seem stronger. Darker. More in command.
“One second,” I say, turning away. I can feel his eyes
bore into me. If I turn around now, I bet he’s staring at me. As I walk through
the threshold to the back hallway I pause. Pretending to adjust something on a
shelf, I look in the mirror behind the bar and catch his reflection.
I’m right. A shiver runs so fast through me I have to
inhale sharply. This is a new feeling. I don’t know what to do. He’s gorgeous
and frightening and the first of many bikers to show up now.
“Allie!” Jeff barks. I scurry back, cursing him in my head
but knowing it doesn’t matter. I turn the corner into his office and his voice
is so sharp he might as well cut me with it.
“You stop talking to Chase Halloway.”
“You know him?” Chase Halloway. The name makes me
buzz all over.
Jeff’s face tightens. I asked the wrong question. By now I
should know better. The butterfly of panic flaps its wings in my chest. How
could I be so stupid?
He gives me a look that makes my stomach burn.
“What I know isn’t any of your concern. You just serve
those bikers and don’t make trouble. No checks. It’s all on the house.”
“What?” My jaw drops. I can’t help it. Jeff never comps
drinks for anyone except the sheriff. And he knows I can’t serve drinks.
“You heard me. Don’t question it.” His voice is pure
venom.
I won’t. Not again. Jeff is not a violent man. Not toward
me, anyway. When he has his bad moods, though, life can be hard. Very, very
hard.
Loud voices interrupt us. I turn away and rush down the
hallway to find at least twenty men and two women standing at the bar, lined up
in a confusing group of laughing and angry faces.
A wolf whistle cuts the air. “Hey there, pretty girl.” A
man older than Jeff, with all-grey hair in a fringe around his balding head,
whistles again.
“Where’s your daddy?” grunts another man. This one is
huge, taller than Chase, but with features that are similar. Chase’s dad,
maybe. It’s hard to tell. All the bikers are covered with a layer of road dirt.
Their faces look tanner than they really are.
“I’ll be her daddy,” shouts someone in the crowd. “Her
sugar daddy.” A bunch of men laugh. My whole body goes cold with fear. I shut
down. All I can think about is the baseball bat behind the bar. If I can get
back there, maybe I’ll be safe.
“Cut it out,” Chase says, louder than the laughter. I look
to my left and see him, alone, standing right where I left him.
His eyes are on me. Only me. But his words are for the
crowd.
“Claiming her already?” someone shouts. There’s a
challenge in the question.
Chase steps forward, closer to me. When he’s only a foot
away, he pauses. I can feel his heat reaching out to pull me in. His arms
don’t, though.
Chase turns back to face them. “And if I am?”
Excerpt 2:
It’s so quiet out here in the desert. Hot and quiet. I
don’t really need the sweatshirt out here, but I like to pretend I can still
smell my Mom when I wear it. I don’t even wash the sweatshirt, not ever,
because it feels like wiping away the last little bit of her I have.
A crackle of footsteps makes me jump. Then I freeze. The
moon glows in the sky. The stars feel so close on this clear night that I could
reach up and stroke one. Every sound thunders through my ears. I hug myself
closer. Coyotes aren’t uncommon here, but I’m only a few feet from the front
door. I’m not in much danger from animals.
The sound isn’t coming from an animal, though.
“Who’s there?” I call out.
I see the outline of his body as he steps into the light
from the porch lamp. My heart skips a beat and my blood pounds through me. It’s
Chase, and he’s walking toward me like he has all the time in the world.
Like he’s known me forever.
“Hey, Allie.” His voice is like whiskey poured over silk.
My body starts to buzz and a frantic feeling takes form. It combines with my
ball of anger inside and I need to move. Run away. Do something. Do anything
to make this feeling make sense.
Stop myself before I jump into his arms and kiss him.
Chase decides for me. He walks so close to me that I can
feel his own heat radiating out, drawing me closer. I take one step toward him.
His hand reaches out to take a strand of my hair and pull on it, gently, like a
line that tethers me to him. We’re connected and I’m buzzing, wanting more.
“What are you doing here?” I rasp. My voice betrays me,
because even I can hear how much I like him in my words. I’m clumsy and don’t
know what to say. No guy has ever come to my house before, or touched me like
this. A cold chill floats down from the base of my neck to my waist.
He flashes me that half grin again. My knees turn to
liquid. He lets go of my hair and reaches for my hand, the one with the worst
of the glass cuts on it. When he touches me, it feels like dipping my whole
body in the ocean.
“I want to make sure you’re okay.” The moon seems to shine
brighter, Chase’s eyes smoldering, glittering with emotion. He penetrates me
with his gaze, nailing me in place. I came outside because I needed to get away
from my anger, needed to feel like I could breathe again.
And here I am with him. Like I conjured him.
Maybe saying his name three times really did make
him appear.
Maybe I have more power than I thought.
When he reaches to stroke my arm, I let out a giant sigh
and realize I’ve been holding my breath. “I’m okay,” I murmur.
“I’m not. I couldn’t stop thinking about you all day.
Worrying about you. Wanting to see you,” he says in a husky voice.
The butterfly in my chest turns into one hundred of them.
“Thank you,” is all I can think to say.
He just nods. “That was a tough scene.”
“What was that about? Jeff’s never done that before,” I
ask. All my questions come pouring out. I can’t ask Jeff anything. “Why did
your biker club fight with Jeff and his friends?”
He takes a long, deep breath. I regret my questions. His
sigh is hard to read. Is he annoyed? Weary? Worried? Or, worse, angry? Chase’s
shoulders rise, his chest expands, and he’s so muscular and intense. “I know
part of the reason, but it’s a long story.”
He sounds like he’s just tired.
I smile and spread my arms upward. “I have all the time in
the world.”
Chase starts wrapping his arms around my waist with a
slow, strong grip. My chest is pressed against his ribs, his belt buckle
digging into my belly. Every part of me is racing at light speed, all toward
Chase. I have never touched a guy like this in my life. Being held in his arms
feels like heaven. I never knew that so much of my skin could sing simply from
being touched like this. By Chase. He makes me light up, turns on all the heat
and need in me.
“I can think of plenty other things I’d rather do with all
that time of yours,” he says darkly. His eyes look at me with the same
expression he had back at the bar parking lot, when I licked my finger.
Like he wants to taste me.
Me? Why me? I wonder, and open my mouth to ask the
question as he bends down and takes my mouth with his.
Oh!
The kiss shocks me, his lips so soft and warm. He tastes
like mint and grapes, the scent of him a mixture of sweat and heat and dust and
musk that I can’t name. If it had a name, it would just be Chase.
My thoughts jam up, jumbling together as his hands slide
up my spine, sinking into the hair at my neck. His fingers travel from the nape
down halfway through the strands, then he makes a fist. It’s like he’s using me
as an anchor.
“Allie, I don’t know why I’m here,” he murmurs against my
ear. “I saw you today and couldn’t get you out of my head.” His lips kiss the
soft skin under my earlobe. I shiver, inhaling so sharply it’s like I’ve taken
all the air in the world into my lungs at once.
Excerpt 3:
A strong wind rattles my window outside, making me look.
Tap!
I frown. That sounds weird. My body doesn’t want to get
out from under the covers. Even though I know it’s silly, I’m terrified that if
I step on the ground, something under the bed will grab my ankle. Like the
faceless tree man from my nightmare.
“Allie!” says a voice I know so well.
“Chase?” I say, scrambling out of bed, no longer worried
about the boogeyman I imagine under the bed. I rush to the window and look down
to find him, staring up at me with a big, wild grin on his face.
Heaven.
“Come down here and see me before I scale your house and
come into your bedroom,” he shouts.
The thought makes my heart skitter and my lips tingle.
“My stepfather! Shhh! He’ll hear you!” Anxiety goes to
full throttle throughout my body, making me feel like my skin will explode from
fear. Jeff’s going to kill Chase.
“He’s gone!” Chase shouts. We live so far away from anyone
else that I don’t worry about neighbors hearing. Jeff’s the only one I worry
about, and if he’s gone, that means—
I’m completely alone with Chase.
“How do you know he’s gone?” I use a normal tone of voice
now and lean out through my open window, grinning back. My hair falls over my
face, the way it would if I were kissing him in bed.
I shiver as desire rushes to my belly at the thought.
“His car’s not here,” Chase answers. “God, you look so
gorgeous like that.”
I reach up to touch my hair, feeling it tangled. “Like
what?”
“Like you just got out of bed,” he says with a leer.
“I did just get out of bed,” I say with a laugh, my
chest turning hot. Are we flirting? Is this what flirting feels like? I don’t
know. No one has ever done more than hit on me before. Being hooted at or
having your ass pinched at the bar isn’t exactly the same as this.
“Then keep on getting out of bed, Allie, and get your
pretty face down here!” Chase waves me on. He doesn’t have to ask twice. I run
outside in bare feet, my pajamas glued to my body from the sweat of the hot
night and my frantic nightmare.
His eyes rake over my body as I slow down and stop, feet
away from him, a light breeze blowing across my damp body. My nipples perk up
and tighten, and my core does, too. An unfamiliar warmth spreads between my
legs and I feel naked.
Chase studies me like I’m the only woman he’s ever seen,
eyes hungry and wanting everything he looks at. We’re suspended in time right
now, completely alone in the desert. In the distance, a coyote howls, the
mournful sound somehow comforting. The stars are big and so bright in the sky
tonight, the moon gives us enough light to see each other, yet respects the
stars, too. They need to shine.
Sometimes you need your turn to be noticed.
Chase is noticing me.
He walks toward me, hips jaunty as they move, my eyes
fixed on his belt buckle. He’s dusty from riding his bike, and he hasn’t shaved
in days. I’ve missed him. I miss him. I miss his touch so much I’m
vibrating with need, every inch of skin craving him.
An invisible forcefield separates us, my clothing chilling
me. My desire makes me so hot I think I’ll burst into flame and engulf Chase.
And then.
One step.
Two.
Three.
Oh, Chase.
His fingers are on my jaw, pulling my face up for a kiss,
his hands around my waist, splayed flat against the small of my back. He
wrenches me closer, as if he needs every part of my body to touch every part of
his. The hard line of muscles along his legs and torso fit against my soft
curves.
“You are so divine,” he murmurs against my mouth. The
taste of mint and musk on his lips makes me sigh inside, like a release. Like I
can breathe for the first time in my life, and I melt into his arms. He holds
me up as his tongue explores, sliding along my teeth, dancing with my own as he
says ‘hello’ so intimately, so beautifully.
My hands. I don’t know what to do with them. I’m so
overwhelmed by the newness of being kissed like this. So thoroughly you would
think he was surveying a new land, claiming it for himself. If that’s what he’s
doing with each caress, with those hungry hands that now touch my ass, pulling
my pelvis against his and making it very clear that he likes me—wants me—then
he can claim me. Own me.
Take me.
I’m so ready and wanting and he’s here. Warm and
hot and oh, so Chase. I’m not the kind of girl who does this. Kisses a strange
guy, much less one who is in a motorcycle gang that controls drug dealing
territories! A rush of shock pulses through me. What am I doing?
Chase’s hand slides up the side of my body, fingers
tickling the edge of my breast. I gasp, instantly wet between my legs, the
feeling so lurid and unexpected. I want to touch him everywhere, to feel his
power, to have him use it with my body so I can feel powerful, too. Feel safe.
Protected.
Wanted.
“God, you’re so amazing, Allie,” Chase whispers. “Calm
during the bar fight, determined to stay cool through it all. You didn’t back
down against your stepdad, and you’re—” He pauses, his thumb stroking the soft,
inner skin of my elbow, moving up to my jaw. Those light brown eyes with hints
of yellow and topaz are fixated on me. Pupils thick and wide, dilated like a
wild cat with its eye on prey.
I’m Chase’s prey. He’s hunting me, and now he’s caught me.
I pull him down to my mouth, aggressive and bold. The
Allie I’ve been for eighteen years needs to change, and I’m so close to living
my real life. Not this one, the life I didn’t choose.
And now I’m choosing Chase. One touch, one stroke, one
kiss at a time.
I am free in his arms.
“You’re the most compelling person I’ve ever met in my
entire life,” Chase says, finishing his thought.
“You barely know me,” I say, suddenly shy.
“I know everything I need to know,” he says in a low,
smoky voice. His hardness presses into my belly and that moist warmth fills my
nether regions, making me crave skin-to-skin contact. I think about my mussed
bed upstairs and feel my face blush bright. I want a different kind of sweaty
sleep, the kind where our bodies slip together like seals, where skin touches
skin in frantic need, desire the only map we need to explore each other’s body.
Our eyes meet and his widen, then narrow. He sees my
thoughts. He reads my mind. The palm cradling my ass clenches and his fingers
tighten.
Chase takes my mouth with a roughness that wasn’t there
seconds ago. Urgent and frenzied, he pushes so hard I wonder if I’ll have
bruises along my lip line in the morning. I don’t care, though, because I push
right back. Needy and craving more of his taste, his fingers, his skin against
mine, I block out all the ways I know I’m supposed to act and I give in to what
I feel.
A groan pours out of the back of Chase’s throat as I grind
against him, my belly pulling up along the rigid, thick shaft that runs under
his jeans. I’ve never touched a man there before. Never seen one naked. It’s
not for lack of interest, I just...never have.
Now, though, I can’t wait.
Excerpt 4:
The motorcycle speeds past me just as I hit a huge bump
and go flying over the handlebars onto the ragged rocks at the edge of the
road, my elbows in front of me, arms bent out of instinct to protect my face. I
fall so quickly I don’t even have time to scream. I’m not wearing a helmet.
The crunch of gravel and dirt against my face feels like
I’m being peeled alive. My skin burns and burns, and then I’m wet. The sound of
an engine dies out and I hear someone screaming my name.
I can’t move. I’m in a box of nothing but pain and
throbbing.
“Allie!” It’s Chase. “Oh, God, are you okay? Holy shit.
Don’t move. Let me make sure your neck and back are fine.” His voice is
commanding. Responsible. In charge. I can hear him tear off his riding gloves
and then soft, gentle hands are touching my neck, my back, my hips.
“Road rash,” he says under his breath. “Bad.”
I can’t talk. My chest feels like someone put an entire
mountain on top of it. Black spots start to dot my vision. I close my eyes,
willing them away.
“What are you doing out here on a bicycle?” he asks in a
tender voice, his hands on my hair, pulling it off my face. A light breeze
makes my face and arms feel cooler than they should, even through the burning.
Air seeps slowly back into my lungs, making my body
explode with pain. I start to shake. I don’t want to feel all this. The pain is
worse with each second.
“Allie?” Chase’s voice has an urgency to it. A worried
tone. I need to answer him, but all I can do is move my knee and groan.
A piercing feeling makes me nearly scream.
Chase looks down and whistles, the kind of sound you don’t
want to hear after you’ve taken a spill like this. “Damn, that’s bad. You have
this flap of skin just hanging off your knee cap.”
I think I might throw up.
Breathe in. Breathe out. Inhale. Exhale. All the processes
my body normally goes through I have to do consciously.
“Allie.” The way Chase says my name has a terrifying quality
to it. “I can hear you breathe. I think you understand me. Do I need to get an
ambulance? Did you break something? Man, I saw you go flying and you must be so
hurt.” He starts rubbing my back and it finally makes me swallow and reply.
“I, oh, it hurts,” I croak out and start to cry.
“Can you sit up, honey?” He called me ‘honey’. I’m in so
much pain I can’t revel in the fact that Chase just called me a sweet name. I
move one arm and it’s so sore already, shaking. I don’t trust my elbow.
“I can try,” I say, moving my legs to roll over.
“Can I help?” Now I can see Chase’s face, and he’s so
worried. So concerned. The press of his palm on my hair, how he tucks it back
behind my ear and winces, the low, soothing tone in his voice all make me feel
better.
But not much.
“I don’t know.” I start to sit up and nearly scream. My
knees are raw hamburger and my jeans are shredded. Elbows, too. And the side of
my face—
“Oh, baby,” Chase says in a deep, mournful tone.
Yeah. My face is as bad as it feels.
“I look like something out of The Walking Dead,
don’t I?”
His eyes go soft and pitying. “It’s not that bad.”
“Liar.”
He makes a funny sound through his nose, not quite a
laugh. “It’ll heal. You’re beautiful no matter what. Can you move all your
joints? Any broken bones?” He’s so practical and responsible, helping me go
through the motions to make sure I’m okay, that I feel like I’m seeing a new
side of him. Chase isn’t just some biker dude with the hots for me.
There’s so much more there.
We both look over at my bicycle at the same time and I
choke up. The front wheel looks like someone put it through a meat grinder. The
frame is bent, and there’s blood on the tape around the handlebars.
I look at my forearms now, bending them back.
They’re red, with bits of brown dirt embedded in there.
Chase’s shirt is streaked with blood, and so is mine.
“Wow,” is all I can think to say through the haze of pain
and horror.
“You don’t do anything small, do you?” Chase asks, moving
next to me and gingerly putting his arm around my shoulders. I rest my
cheek—the one that isn’t rubbed raw by road rash—on his shoulder.
“What do you mean?”
“That was one hell of a fall. You went ass over tea
kettle.”
“Ass over what?” I’ve never heard that expression before.
He laughs. “My mom used to say that all the time when
someone took a spectacular fall. ‘Ass over tea kettle.’ I think it’s like
making a somersault.”
That I understand.
The pain is a throbbing horror, all pouring in now and in
different forms. The raw skin feels like I’m being flayed. My knees and elbows
are pulsing with the pain of impact, I guess, and my entire body feels drained.
I probably tightened up with tension and shock as soon as I went flying, and
tomorrow I’ll be a bundle of muscle pain.
Tears well up in my eyes and I go to wipe them, but my
palm is filled with gravel and blood. I can’t even wipe away my own tears.
That makes me start to sob. At least my lungs work again,
and Chase just quietly puts his arms around me and holds me while I cry, on the
side of the road in the desert, my body, mind, soul and heart completely
destroyed and my life falling apart.
Jeff’s going to kill me (not really, but...), Marissa is
in Los Angeles living like a real human being instead of me and my stupid life,
David’s going off to college, and here I am sitting by the side of the road
covered in cuts and sobbing into the arms of...
Okay. So that part of my life is just fine.
Chase kisses my temple so sweetly.
“That’s the only part of my face that doesn’t have blood
on it,” I say.
One side of his mouth moves up in a smile. “It’s all
gorgeous, blood and cuts included.” He frowns. “Why were you on your bike? I
thought you had to work tonight.”
The tears start up again and I babble. I can’t help it. So
much has built up inside me that I’m like Old Faithful at Yellowstone National
Park. Ready to blow at any time.
“Jeff and I got into a fight when I went to work. He told
me never to see you and that you killed your mother.”
Chase’s jaw drops.
“I told him that was a lie,” I hiss through clenched
teeth. I can taste blood and sand but I don’t care. “A vicious, nasty lie.”
The whites of his eyes are so big right now and he nods
fast. “It’s a huge lie. Who the fuck is saying that about me?”
“Well, Jeff, for one. He’s such an asshole.”
Chase looks shocked.
“What?” I ask. I actually spit into the ditch because my
mouth finally can’t handle the nasty dirt in it.
“You used a bad word.”
I give him an incredulous look, but then it hurts when I
move the muscles of my face. Great. I can’t even make a facial expression
without feeling pain.
FML.
“I know a lot of bad words, Chase!” I shout. I’m
over-the-top upset now, exasperated and done. Just done with everyone and
everything. Even Chase, and that means things are bad. I want to go home and
crawl under the covers and hide until everything goes away.
No. No, I don’t.
I want to get on Chase’s motorcycle and ride off west to
the ocean.
With or without him.
“Slow down there. Slow down,” he says like he’s gentling a
horse. “It’s okay, Allie. You can’t go home, can’t go back to the bar. I get
that. Now, unless you really do think I murdered my own mother—”
“NO!” I shout.
He nods, “Then let me take you back to my little shack in
the desert, clean you up, feed you, and we’ll figure all this out.”
A car shoots past us and I turn to watch it, but my neck
hurts so much I yelp. Chase gives me a little squeeze, the kind you give
someone as a show of support, and then he stands and brushes the dirt off his
ass. It’s a nice ass.
How can I notice his ass when I look like someone dragged
me half a mile behind a car?
I stand, too, and run a shaky hand through my hair. Half a
garden’s worth of dirt floats out.
“I must look awful,” I mutter, slowly walking over to
Chase’s bike. My knees are killing me. I look at my reflection in one of his
mirrors.
“You didn’t tell me I look this bad,” I complain as he
picks up my destroyed bike and pulls a bungee cord out of a box on the back of
his bike.
“Because you don’t look that bad,” he says, then peers at
me, eyes narrowed. “Geez, Allie, that split lip’s gotta hurt.”
I reach up and touch it. The skin stings. He’s right
again—my lip is fat and swollen, split deep.
I lick it, the pain easing as it gets some moisture.
“We’re about thirty minutes from my place. You think you
can handle riding on back?” he asks as he uses the bungee cords to secure my
broken bike frame to the back of his motorcycle.
Oh. I hadn’t thought about that. If I go to Chase’s place
with him, I have to straddle the bike and hold on tight to him.
I’m suddenly really warm.
Hot, even.
My legs will have to wrap around that same nice ass I was
just admiring.
Who have I become? Why am I thinking like this? It’s
impossible for my face to turn any more red between the heat, the blood, the
cuts and my stupid hormones.
Chase is staring at me with expectation.
“Um, yes. Sure. Okay. I can ride.” My thighs begin to
quiver at the thought of slinging them over that big, vibrating bike and
linking my hands around Chase’s waist. I start breathing hard and imagining the
power of it all.
I want it.
I want everything.
“Climb on,” Chase says with a look in his eye of
excitement and compassion. It’s a strange mix. He straddles the bike and turns
it on, the engine burbling until it smooths out. I lift one leg and try my best
to be elegant, but the pain in my knee makes me stumble. I grab on to Chase’s
arm and he is rock steady. Strong and firm.
I make it onto the bike in a clumsy sort of way and put my
feet on the footrests. My thighs are hugging Chase’s ass and he’s so warm. So
muscled. So attractive.
He revs the engine and the vibration rips through me,
making me gasp in his ear.
“Bet you’ve never had this kind of power between your legs
before, Allie.”
Oh, God. Every cell in my body starts to tingle.
Chasing Allie
by Meli Raine
Excerpt 1:
The door opens just as Jeff comes so close to me, his hand
reaching for my shoulder. Or maybe my neck.
It’s Chase.
And he’s holding a shotgun.
Pointed right at Jeff’s head.
Whatever I was about to scream back at Jeff dies in my
throat. All I can say is, “Chase?”
I can’t believe my eyes. Is that really Chase across the
bar? Jeff is staring at him like he wants to kill him. And he does. My heart
slams against the bones of my ribs like it’s trying to break through. Maybe I
should let it. Then it wouldn’t hurt so much.
The tension between Chase and Jeff just might break me. I
could give in to it. Not because I care about Jeff, but because all I want to
do right now is throw myself into Chase’s arms.
But Chase’s arms are kind of full right now. He’s holding
a cocked shotgun. And it’s pointed at Jeff’s face, right between the eyes. A
strange cheer rises inside me. It doesn’t have a name. If it did, it would be
named hope. Right now, hope is the only good thing that’s about to come
out of the brewing fight between the man who I think is my future and the man
who holds me back.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing, boy?” Jeff’s
words ring out across the empty bar. The stale scent of old cigarettes blends
with the anger in the air. It all makes my stomach hurt. Chase ignores me,
though. Why is he pretending I’m not here?
He sees me. I know he does. I am the reason why he is here
and everything in me burns for him.
“I’m here to set free what you’ve been keeping prisoner
for far too long, old man,” Chase answers my stepdad. A shiver runs through me.
I’ve never seen him like this and it makes me wonder what else I don’t know
about him.
“Prisoner? Who the fuck do you think I’ve been keeping
prisoner?” Both sets of eyes turn and look at me. I am the prisoner. Jeff knows
damn well that I’m who Chase has come for.
“Me.” My word brings out like a thunder clap. It echoes
against walls I’ve washed, floors I’ve mopped, bars I wiped a thousand times.
It bounces off all the memories I have of my mother. It roams through the air
to stop just short of Jeff’s face.
Like a shotgun.
Jeff just barks out a disgusted laugh.
“I know what you plan to do with her,” Chase says in a
tone that makes my spine go cold.
“Do with me?” I ask, confused. I look at Jeff. He
reddens. What are they talking about?
“You don’t know shit,” he says to Chase, casting a nervous
glance at me. “Now get out of here before I call the cops. Bet that gun ain’t
registered and you don’t have a license to fire, either.”
“Try me, old man. Call the cops. I got a lot I can tell
them about you.” Chase is looking at Jeff with the cold gleam of murder in his
eye. I can tell he can taste it. Now I understand the phrase “out for blood.”
I can see it in Chase’s face.
“What do you want?” Jeff asks. “Money? Booze?”
“Her.”
“Nope. Can’t have her.” Jeff shakes his head slowly, as if
that solidifies it.
“Her is standing right here, you two! Her
has a name!” I yell out. I’m getting angry with both of them now, talking about
me like I’m a prize you win and fight over. Like I’m a bone two dogs are
playing tug of war with.
“He’s planning to sell you off, Allie,” Chase says slowly.
His words are measured and he’s speaking carefully. His eye is fixed on Jeff,
finger on the trigger, though. He’s not losing focus. There’s a tone of sadness
in his words, like he doesn’t want to say them.
“Sell me? What do you mean, Chase? There’s no such
thing.” I stare at him, completely dumbfounded. When I frown, my scabbed-over
road rash hurts. I brush my hair behind my ear and a piece catches in the scab.
I wince. “You can’t sell a person.”
Jeff chuckles. “Told you. The boy is nuts.” But his eyes
are wary. Shifty. Cunning. He’s afraid.
Afraid of...me?
More like afraid of the truth. Of being caught. Of being
exposed. All my skin goes numb at the thought that Jeff’s hiding something and
Chase knows what it is.
“Allie, move away from him.” Chase’s words make it clear I
need to obey. I do, moving out of Jeff’s grabbing range.
“Chase, this is really weird. I don’t understand,” I
plead, trying to figure out what’s going on.
Chase just stares at Jeff. “Let’s just say I learned
through the grapevine why Wakefield here has been so protective of you. Two
years ago he got himself into a big mess. A deadly mess.”
My heart goes cold. Two years ago? That’s when Mom died.
“And he made a deal,” Chase continues. He says the word
“deal” like it’s distasteful.
“Shut up, boy. You don’t know what you’re talking about,”
Jeff says. He’s standing next to the bar and I see his hand slowly move toward
his hip. What’s he reaching for?
Are my boyfriend and my stepfather seriously facing off
over me, with guns involved? What is Chase babbling about—me, being sold?
“That’s why he was so worried about your virginity, Allie.
You need to be pure. He’s trading you for six figures of debt he owes a Mexican
drug lord.” Chase’s voice is filled with anger and resentment, seething with
righteous indignation.
“WHAT?” I scream, looking at Jeff.
Excerpt 2:
“Nice legs!” a man at a gas station screams at me. Chase
gives him the middle finger as we take off and I laugh. I laugh because the
look on the man’s face is funny. I laugh because Chase is so protective. I
laugh because we’re four hours into motorcycle driving and I’m tired.
And then I laugh even harder as a giant Ferris wheel comes
into view.
“Where are we?” I shout at the next light.
“Santa Monica Pier,” he says.
I stop laughing and look around. The store names are so fancy
I can’t pronounce half of them. There are restaurants with names like The
Lobster and Del Frisco’s Grille. Women in heels so high and clothes so tight
and fashionable are everywhere. This can’t be real, right?
Woman after woman after woman walks on the sidewalk in
Manolo Blahniks or other shoes that cost more than Jeff’s car. They have
perfect hair. Perfect makeup. They are with men in suits who carry Tiffany
bags. I see a Kate Spade purse. Marissa told me all the fashion brands and we
spent so much time before she moved combing through magazines that I know these
things.
Kate Spade bags. Marissa must love this city so much.
We come down a small hill, the bright lights turning on
slowly as dusk begins in earnest. One more turn and there it is.
The ocean.
“Oh, my God, Chase, it’s real!” I squeal in his ear,
hugging him. “You did it! You really brought me here!” I can’t hear anything
because of the bike’s engine but in a few minutes we’ll be parked. My ears will
fill with the sound of rushing waves.
And nothing else except the sound of Chase’s heartbeat as
he holds me in the surf.
Lights. Everywhere. The sky over the ocean looks like a
watercolor painting come to life. The Santa Monica Pier has a roller coaster on
it. I’ve never been on a roller coaster. We never had the money to do anything
other than carnival rides when the traveling ones came to town.
I can feel Chase’s laughter in my arms. “Of course it’s
real,” he says over his shoulder as we slow down and he weaves between the long
lines of parked cars in the parking lot. We drive down a ramp and the boardwalk
looms up to the left, like it rises right out of the ocean. A right turn and
another long line of cars and then Chase slows to a stop. He turns off the
bike.
Whoosh. The waves are right there, my eyes eating
up everything. I can’t believe I’m here.
My legs are tight and aching, but I scramble off the bike
and run onto the sand, struggling to kick off my shoes. I’ve gone barefoot in
desert dirt before, but the sand here is so different. Soft and grainy, dry and
perfect. The breeze is full of salt and a fishy scent that is light and airy.
People are everywhere. I’ve never seen so many people,
cars...anything like this before in my life. I want to laugh for hours, I want
to dance, I want to jump up and down and scream with joy.
So I do all of it.
Chase watches me, his arms crossed over his chest. He has
a little half-smile on his face, and a day’s worth of stubble peppers his chin
and mouth. In the waning sunlight he’s pure heaven. I tear my eyes away from
him and face the surf. People dot the beach in pairs and groups. Old people,
little kids, and lots and lots of people Chase’s and my age.
Happiness surrounds me.
I sprint for the water, my feet uncertain on the sand.
It’s hard to run in it barefoot. Chase calls out to me from behind and then I
hear him grumble, but I don’t care. I’m free. I’m free.
I’m here.
I reach the water and run in, splashing and crazy,
laughing and enchanted.
Loving arms wrap around my waist from behind. “You’re
crazy,” Chase says, breathless.
“I’m here!” I scream, my hands on the salt water, my
fingers wet and lifting to my lips. The water really is salty. So much tangier
than I ever imagined. It makes my split lip sting.
He twists me in place, my jeans soaking my calves. I should
have rolled them up. The not-so-tiny cuts on my body start to scream out from
the salt water but they’re muted by Chase’s face. His arms. His hands.
His expression.
“I want to make you this happy all the time, Allie.”
“Then let’s live at the ocean!”
He laughs. “If that’s all it takes, done!” And then he
pulls me to him and his lips cover mine, mouth slanting, tongue sliding between
my lips. We’re ripe and lush together as the sun burns orange and red before
us.
We are god and goddess. We are yin and yang.
We are here. Together.
Ah, the cool breeze of the ocean and the disappearing sun.
The rush of wind and water against my long hair. The cries of kids on the
beach, laughing and screaming. The seagulls dive-bombing and the boats on the
horizon. I breathe, I kiss, I lick, I smile.
I am.
Chase pulls back and holds me at arm’s length. “You’re
vibrating,” he says, laughing. His honeyed eyes light up and his grin must be
almost as big as mine. His pants are soaked and his hands are shoved into my
back pockets. I stopped thinking the minute my feet hit the water.
All I am now is pure emotion. Aches, pains, road rash,
fears—gone. What I am right this very moment is the real Allie Boden.
And I am never going back to the old one. Never. My old
self is as dried out and depressing as my hometown is compared to the ocean.
Who wants to go back to a life they never picked? We want what we want, right?
I choose.
I’ve chosen.
Chase gives me a big, silly smack on the lips and squeezes
my ass with both hands. “You are glowing.”
“I’m radioactive!” I shout, jumping in place. A strong
wave pushes against my calves and I’m shocked by it. Smaller currents near my
feet pull at me. I had no idea the water itself was so layered. So complex.
So nuanced.
Just like life.
Just like me.
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AUTHOR BIO:
Meli Raine rode her first motorcycle when she was five years old, but she played in the ocean long before that. She lives in New England with her family.
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