Dirty Ride (Wind Dragons MC #3.5)(3)

“I’m sure,” I say in a dry tone, trying to cover up the roughness of my voice, putting my now-empty bottle on the counter and standing up. “It’s time for me to go.”

I need another man’s interest like I need an extra ten pounds on my ass. And this man—he is dangerous to me. Because I already want him, and I’ve only just met him.

“Let me buy you another drink,” he says quickly, but I shake my head, smiling to soften the blow.

“No, thank you. Nice meeting you, though,” I say, turning to leave. I hate that I pause for a moment, reconsidering. No. I need to leave, now.

“Tina,” he says, making me turn to look at his face again.

“What?” I ask warily. If he asks me to stay one more time, I might cave. Part of me wants to stay, drink, chat, and carry on like a normal woman my age would, but the other side of me knows better, that I really don’t need a man in my life right now.

“See you around.” He makes it sound like a threat.

One more lingering glance, and then I get the hell out of there.



I look around the motel room and exhale, throwing my bag onto the white sheets of the double bed. More of an apartment than a motel: it has a small kitchen, bathroom, and desk, kind of like a low-budget extended-stay accommodation. It will have to do for now.

New town. Fresh start.

Only problem is, I have no idea what I want to do with it.

I left everyone I knew behind me—my family, the friends I’d had since grade school, all gone. Moving across the country alone is definitely an eye-opening experience. If I didn’t know who I was before, I’m definitely going to find out now. I have only myself to rely on, no matter what happens, and that’s both a scary and freeing feeling. I glance down at my new phone, with the number I gave to only my parents and Lacey. I left in the middle of the night. Just got in my car and left town. A fresh start, a new life.

No more abusive phone calls.

No more being embarrassed in public.

No more threats.

I’m free. Until he finds me.

I can only hope he doesn’t bother looking.

I pull off my hoodie and slide down my jeans, then take off my black bra and panties before heading into the small bathroom to stare at my reflection in the mirror.

I look like hell.

With no makeup to cover the bags under my eyes, my pale skin looks almost translucent. The bruises on my upper arms are no longer there, yet I stare at the spots once mottled in livid blue and purple. I touch my right arm with my fingers, placing each finger where his once pressed hard against the bone.

He tried to make me weak.

What kind of man does that? What kind of man tries to make you pay for his own shortcomings?

He is weak, not I.

My green eyes have a fire behind them that only I can see. Fire as red as my hair. As fiery as my temper. Inside me lies a core of steel.

He couldn’t break me—no man ever can.

Because only I own me.

I turn on the shower and wait until the temperature is perfect before getting in, letting the warm water soothe me. I never want to set foot in my car again after all the driving I’ve done, but I’m going to have to go job hunting tomorrow. As soon as I get some work, I can find a more permanent place to live, maybe a small apartment of my own. As I soap my body, my mind wanders to the magnetic man from the bar, Ardan.

He’s fascinating, sexy as sin, and has me curious.

I don’t like the fact that he’s already in my head, that I’m thinking about him.

What is it about him exactly?

Good thing I’ll never see him again.





TWO




THE next morning, coffee in hand, I leave my résumé with every salon I can find. I look online and in the paper for any hairstyling jobs, and call a few places hoping for an interview. After I hand out all the copies of my résumé I have with me, I decide to head back to the motel. Looking much better than I did yesterday, in black slacks and a cream blouse, my long hair somewhat tamed in a low ponytail, I feel like a whole new woman. Concealer covers the dark circles under my eyes, and the light makeup I applied has me feeling pretty damn good about myself.

I can do this.

When I pass a café, I decide to stop and grab something to eat. I probably shouldn’t have skipped breakfast, but I was eager to start searching for any available positions. If I don’t find anything, I can always work at a bar, or as a waitress. I’m not really in a position to be picky right now, but, luckily, I do have some savings. I’d prefer not to touch them if I can help it, just in case Darren decides to make my life hell and I have to leave again.

It’s easy for me to save money—I’m not much of a spender, and I rarely splurge on expensive items. If anything, my weakness is books. I don’t think anyone can have too many books. My favorite is nonfiction—I have several biographies I read over and over again.

As I look around the quaint little café, I realize this town might be a place I could actually see myself staying. But I won’t be able to settle down and get comfortable anywhere, not until I’m certain he’s forgotten about me. I don’t know why I think this time will be different; maybe because I traveled to the other side of the country. Maybe I’m being optimistic, or maybe I’m just being stupid.