Page 104 of I Was Born Ruined (Death by Daybreak MC 1)
I realize my mind's wandering, and I'm hesitating.
Hesitation will kill me here. It's the absolute last thing I need.
“Gidge, it's not too late to fix this,” Crown starts, holding his hands out toward me. I look him dead in the eyes, and then pull the trigger. Electricity makes my hair stand on end as the prongs make contact with his chest, dumping voltage into Crown's big body and dropping him to the floor of the cabin. But this isn't fucking Hollywood: Tasers don't knock people out. No, it's going to buy me a few minutes at most.
Crown is groaning, his body still shaking with tremors as I lean Grey against the wall, and bend down, digging through the vice president's pockets. When I find the keys to his bike, I stand up and take hold of Grey again, leading him outside and into the darkening shadows of early evening.
“We don't have a lot of time,” I grunt as I do my best to support Grey's weight, eyes flicking across the horizon, looking for Sin. He can't have gone far, right? Shit, this is never going to work! I think as I drag Grey behind me like a broken doll. If I were to drop him and run, then maybe, but not at this pace. “I need you to walk.”
“Walk?” he chokes out, the caustic bitter notes in his voice burning my ears. “They tore my toenails off; they embedded nails in my heels. They burned me until I passed out. How do you want me to walk?”
I swallow hard past the smell of him, and the dark, dark thoughts, tugging me down as surely as his extra weight. I keep us moving, dragging Grey down the slope and then finally, sitting down and sliding us along the wet, steep curve of grass. It's a hell of a lot easier than walking, although I'm pretty sure I've got blades of green up my ass crack.
Crown's bike is parked next to my grandmother's house, shining in the sun, a pair of helmets waiting like this whole thing was planned. I slump Grey against the seat and help him into his own before putting mine on. Glancing back, I see Crown stumbling out of the cabin door like he's drunk. His eyes meet mine as I swing my leg over the bike and Grey uses the last of his strength to climb on behind me, his grip around my waist surprisingly strong despite all the shit he's been through.
I'm worried about his ability to stay on the bike with me, but what else can I do? This is our only chance.
“Hold on like your life depends on it,” I murmur, taking advantage of the keyless ignition, and peeling out of the space before Crown even makes it down the slope. It won't be long before he alerts Cat, and I'll have the entire club—Gaz, in particular—on my ass.
My heart pounds, sweat pouring down the sides of my face as I head for the north exit, knowing that it'll be closed and guarded, but also aware that it opens automatically from the inside only. When I zoom up on Crown's bike, wearing his helmet, the barbed wire fence begins to creep open. As soon as there's a space large enough for me to get through, I zoom past it, wondering if the on-duty guard is going to shoot me in the back as I speed away.
But nothing happens.
Won't last for long though.
Once they figure out I've spirited Grey away, we'll have the entire club looking for us.
“Where are we going?” Grey shouts over the raging wind; it whips the loose strands of my hair against my face, making my swollen lips sting.
“You're getting dropped at the nearest bus stop,” I scream back as we continue on through the darkness of the woods. It's about three miles to the nearest public road, and then I'll officially be off club property and close to the freeway exit. Heh. I can't believe I stole a Daybreaker's bike for my big getaway. That action alone puts a high price on my head. “After that, I don't care what you do.”
Grey doesn't say anything for a while, but I’m not surprised: I know I've literally pushed him to his limit. I ignore him, focusing on controlling the massive piece of chrome between my thighs. I may have grown up in a biker gang, but I can count the times I’ve driven a bike on my own on one hand. Actually, I’ve never ridden one of the club’s motorcycles. It’s against the rules for a woman to drive her own bike. Bunch of prehistoric caveman bullshit. Instead, I took lessons with Reba’s cousin, Ryan, when he came to visit last summer.
That’s it.
I’m literally riding on a wing and a prayer right now. There’s not much between me and wrapping this bike around a tree except for pure, unfiltered fear … and a strangely desperate need to live. I didn’t even know I had it in me, that I cared this much. It’s a big fucking shock.
