Page 25 of Enforce This
“I just fucking shot somebody,” the words climbed out of her on a wail.
I was at her side in an instant, hauling her against my chest and placing myself between her and the sight of him.
“Get Mak on the phone, we have to get her out of here!” I barked at Oak, but he was already on it.
He’d been raised with the Steel Disciples. He was one of us, even if he didn’t formally wear a patch. I hurtled Trista out the back door and grabbed a shirt from the basket of clean laundry that I’d never had time to fold. I whipped it over my head and guided her toward Oak’s ride. It was a cage with attitude, but it was still a cage.
“Get in, Oak will drive you,” I jerked open the door, and surveyed the property. I could see a sedan through the patch of trees that separated my yard from one of the country roads, but I couldn’t tell if anyone was inside it or if someone was watching from the perimeter of the yard.
I glanced back and realized she hadn’t budged.
“I– I don’t want to be separated from you.”
“Trista, you’ll be fine. He’s a better marine than I ever was.” I laughed, but she shook her head.
“Please… Don’t leave me,” she begged.
Oak was running across the lawn toward us.
“Can I have your keys and you take your bike?” I asked, nodding toward the shed.
He looked between me and Trista before giving a hesitant nod. “Sure, brother. Whatever you need.”
“Thanks. She doesn't know how to ride,” I mumbled like that was the whole reason behind the request and hurriedly ushered Trista inside.
“Buckle up,” I demanded, before I even had the door shut.
She didn’t argue and I didn’t wait around for Oak; I threw it into drive and slid out onto the road. I punched the pedal and glanced in the rearview as we bounded over the first dip.
“Cover your ears,” I advised, before dropping the window and firing down the length of the sedan as we passed.
If there was anyone inside, they weren’t going to be following us or making trouble for Oak now.
Chapter Thirteen
Trista
I’d never known such extremes could exist. In the course of an hour, I’d been restrained and worshiped until every fiber of my being submitted and I’d drowned in depths of pleasure that I’d never known before.
And then I had picked up a gun and taken someone’s life like I didn’t understand the meaning of it.
What did that say about me? Was I biker trash now? Was this how it started for all of them?
Was I going to go to jail?
Oh my God.
I was about to go to jail!
My nursing career was over.
I had a whole inner meltdown in the passenger seat of Oak’s car while Eric whipped us through the countryside like he was in some kind of race. We were no longer on a backroad. The mile markers of Interstate seventy were blurring past as he continued to drive like we’d stolen the vehicle. It was easy to get lost in thought while riding in Illinois. Whether you were in the sticks, or on the freeway, those cornfields never went away.
The next thing I knew, we were crossing the Mississippi River and submerged in the traffic of downtown Saint Louis.
“You know, I think it’s a federal crime to cross state lines with a hostage. Especially one that you’re training for the sex trade,” I quipped out of nowhere.
He jerked his head and stared at me, a guilty, horrified expression on his features.