again.”
David turned and walked away, Olivia’s gun following him as he turned the corner and eventually left down the stairs. Her hands were shaking as she opened her door, slipped inside, and then slammed the door closed, locking all of the locks. She raced around her apartment, closing the blinds on the windows, keeping the lights off. Finally, there was nothing left to do, and alone in the darkness, Olivia crawled into her bed and cried as silently as she could.
Read on for a preview from the sizzling sequel conclusion!
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CHAPTER ONE
Just drive. For so long that had been David Creely’s solution to everything. Life got too complicated, or money got too tight—just drive. He would put on his boots and jacket, get on his bike, and just drive. Sometimes he never came back. He could still remember the girl he had met in Columbus, Ohio. She had been a bored secretary who had taken a liking to him. She lived in a cookie-cutter condo, the furniture and décor had come with the place, and she had never changed it in any way. She had so little personality it was scary, but she had been terribly lonely and so David had spent a week eating her food and sharing her bed—until he got up one day for a drive and never came back.
But he couldn’t do that anymore. When he had joined God’s Reapers, he had taken an oath of loyalty to the club. He was a member for life and that worked both ways. The club couldn’t leave him, and he couldn’t leave it—even if three quarters of the members were currently sitting in a holding cell at the precinct.
“ GTG ,” the text had read. It stood for Go to Ground. It was their version of an SOS or a red alert. The text had come in seven hours ago, and David hadn’t stopped driving since it had come in. It meant the cops were there; it meant that people were looking for them. There were several safe houses, but there was no way of knowing which ones the cops knew about. So, for the moment, David was just driving. Driving out into the desert—as far as his gas tank would take him.
The warehouse on Marigold had been raided, as well. Despite all of David’s best efforts, they had found out about it. No doubt they had easily made their way from the fake reception area, past the fake warehouse, and into the real warehouse where the real business happened. It was over for the Reapers; they had been caught with enough illegal drugs to warrant federal charges. Any Reapers that the cops arrested were going to go away for a long time.
He had driven around the town, to the next town over, and into the desert, but he had always circled back, waiting for the AC text—all clear. It finally came when David was two hours into the desert with no real direction in mind. “ AC, ” the text said. It mean that whatever had gone down was over now, and they were free to pop their heads up out of the sand and see who was left.
“ X ” was the next message. This was the code for the safe house on the outskirts of town. It was a ramshackle shed that had belonged to a member who died with no heirs. He had left the house to the club, and they used it anytime they needed to not be seen. There was no way to know if this was a real message or a trap set by the cops. The text itself had come through on an unknown number, but that part wasn’t so strange since almost all of the members used burner phones. It could be anyone.
David stopped in the middle of the road. There was nothing but desert and rock outcroppings in every direction. He didn’t have to go back; he could just drive. Just keep going, leave this place behind like he had left behind so many. But Marina’s Crest was his home. He could leave, but he could never stay away.
If only Olivia Waters wasn’t in Marina’s Crest. If only he had never met her, never slept with her, never allowed her into his life, never trusted her. She had
David turned and walked away, Olivia’s gun following him as he turned the corner and eventually left down the stairs. Her hands were shaking as she opened her door, slipped inside, and then slammed the door closed, locking all of the locks. She raced around her apartment, closing the blinds on the windows, keeping the lights off. Finally, there was nothing left to do, and alone in the darkness, Olivia crawled into her bed and cried as silently as she could.
Read on for a preview from the sizzling sequel conclusion!
Available Now!
FREE for Kindle Unlimited customers!
CHAPTER ONE
Just drive. For so long that had been David Creely’s solution to everything. Life got too complicated, or money got too tight—just drive. He would put on his boots and jacket, get on his bike, and just drive. Sometimes he never came back. He could still remember the girl he had met in Columbus, Ohio. She had been a bored secretary who had taken a liking to him. She lived in a cookie-cutter condo, the furniture and décor had come with the place, and she had never changed it in any way. She had so little personality it was scary, but she had been terribly lonely and so David had spent a week eating her food and sharing her bed—until he got up one day for a drive and never came back.
But he couldn’t do that anymore. When he had joined God’s Reapers, he had taken an oath of loyalty to the club. He was a member for life and that worked both ways. The club couldn’t leave him, and he couldn’t leave it—even if three quarters of the members were currently sitting in a holding cell at the precinct.
“ GTG ,” the text had read. It stood for Go to Ground. It was their version of an SOS or a red alert. The text had come in seven hours ago, and David hadn’t stopped driving since it had come in. It meant the cops were there; it meant that people were looking for them. There were several safe houses, but there was no way of knowing which ones the cops knew about. So, for the moment, David was just driving. Driving out into the desert—as far as his gas tank would take him.
The warehouse on Marigold had been raided, as well. Despite all of David’s best efforts, they had found out about it. No doubt they had easily made their way from the fake reception area, past the fake warehouse, and into the real warehouse where the real business happened. It was over for the Reapers; they had been caught with enough illegal drugs to warrant federal charges. Any Reapers that the cops arrested were going to go away for a long time.
He had driven around the town, to the next town over, and into the desert, but he had always circled back, waiting for the AC text—all clear. It finally came when David was two hours into the desert with no real direction in mind. “ AC, ” the text said. It mean that whatever had gone down was over now, and they were free to pop their heads up out of the sand and see who was left.
“ X ” was the next message. This was the code for the safe house on the outskirts of town. It was a ramshackle shed that had belonged to a member who died with no heirs. He had left the house to the club, and they used it anytime they needed to not be seen. There was no way to know if this was a real message or a trap set by the cops. The text itself had come through on an unknown number, but that part wasn’t so strange since almost all of the members used burner phones. It could be anyone.
David stopped in the middle of the road. There was nothing but desert and rock outcroppings in every direction. He didn’t have to go back; he could just drive. Just keep going, leave this place behind like he had left behind so many. But Marina’s Crest was his home. He could leave, but he could never stay away.
If only Olivia Waters wasn’t in Marina’s Crest. If only he had never met her, never slept with her, never allowed her into his life, never trusted her. She had
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