Long Way Home (Thunder Road #3)(89)

Hope and happiness and memories of better times being relived.

Razor yells out, “Ready or not.”

My heart beats in excitement of the unsaid Here he comes. I flatten myself against a tree, and somewhere in the distance, Oz and Chevy discuss plans of jumping on Razor when he comes near and I swallow a giggle.

Footsteps in the woods. Twigs being broken. Leaves rustling. I hold my breath as it feels as if each and every inhale will give my hiding spot away.

Razor moves away from me and I choke on the giggles when Oz and Chevy leap from their hiding spots and tackle Razor.

“Go, Violet, go!” Chevy calls, and they’re giving me my chance to reach the oak and be the winner.

Once again, I’m on the move, but this time with a limp and not nearly as fast, but the pure joy that rages through my bloodstream at seeing the old oak is enough to wipe away all the pain that’s become layers of grime on my soul. Just a few more feet, a few more steps—

A hand around my waist. I swat at it and begin to playfully elbow when another hand covers my mouth and nose. The hold tightens, fear surges through me and I’m off the ground. My heart sinks. No, not again. Heat flushes my neck, my face, and a dry heave rocks my body.

My feet hit the ground again, my back and head rammed into a tree and flat eyes bore into mine. “Scream and I’ll have one of my guys in the woods put a fucking bullet in one of your friends’ heads. We lost you and Chevy yesterday after the game and now those of us who have been watching you are in trouble.”

Us. There’s more than one person stalking me.

His hand goes to my neck. It’s not tight, but it’s definitely a warning. “We’ve heard rumors your car was seen in the south side of Louisville today. Why would you have been there?”

My eyes flicker over his face. I don’t know this man. I don’t recognize him from the kidnapping. He shoves me again, into the tree, and a sound of pain leaves my throat. “Why were you in Louisville?”

“Violet?” Chevy calls, and there’s still happiness in his voice. “Where are you?”

“We weren’t in Louisville,” I say. “We drove around waiting for the party.”

“Liar,” he spits.

“Violet!” Chevy yells out, and his tone has changed. There’s concern, there’s anxiety and soon Razor and Oz join him in calling for me.

“Do you have the account numbers?”

My body shakes, but I force myself to keep eye contact. “Yes.”

“Sneak out tonight,” he says. “I’ll meet you outside your house and you give them to me.”

“I’m only giving them to Justin and Skull. They started this. They’re the only ones I trust.”

He leans into me and I turn my head because I don’t want his face so close to mine. “This is not a negotiation.”

The Riot believe they have all the power, but I’m the one holding the cards. “I’ll meet them tomorrow night at the place where we were kidnapped. I give the numbers to them and nobody else. You want Eli, I want peace. Tell me, how happy do you think Justin is going to be when he finds out you’ve shoved me against a tree. According to him, this isn’t how our clubs are playing anymore, or is he reneging on our deal?”

As if my words were acid, his grip on me weakens, and as he goes to step back, there is a snapping of a twig to the right. It’s Razor and he pauses long enough to blink and then he’s a freight train.

“Duck,” the guy says. “They’re going to shoot.”

Shoot. My heart stutters. “Get down! Razor, get down!”

The guy runs, Razor is barreling toward us, his hand going to the gun he keeps at his back and his eyes widen when I throw myself at him. A bang, Razor collides with me and we’re rolling until we stop. His body over mine, gun in his hand, a hand over my head as if he could keep me safe.

“Violet!” Chevy yells.

“Are you okay?” Razor asks.

I press at his chest, but he’s solid rock. “Yes, let me up.”

“Not until I know you’re safe.”

I punch at his chest. “They aren’t going to shoot me. You, yes. Me, no.”

Razor leans up on his knees and draws me up with him. I try to ignore the gun in his right hand and how my hands shake. Oz slides on the leaves in front of us as he tries to stop. He’s also holding his gun, but with both hands. “Which way?”

“The guy who had Violet by the throat ran to the right. Shot came high and from the left. That bullet was meant to keep us in place so they could escape.”

“Violet, why the hell do you keep running in the direction of bullets?” Chevy’s voice curls into a dangerous tone I never wanted to hear again and his form appears out of the darkness. It’s eerie how he goes from shadow to being in the moonlight.

“Because I don’t want the people I love to get shot. That’s why. What else do you expect me to do? Let you get shot?”

“Yes!” all three of them shout.

Idiots. Every single one of them.

“I need to go home.” I’m pleading with Chevy to rein in his temper and get us out of this situation without alerting the Terror we have problems. “Just take me home.”

“Take you home?” Oz’s expression says he’s about ready to turn the gun on me or himself at the idea of how insane I sound. “Someone just shot at you.”