Page 1 of Retribution
CHAPTER ONE
Dakota
“Come on, don’tdo this to me—not now. You can make it, just a few more miles,” Dakota coaxed the Ford Explorer, gripping the wheel as if her life depended on it. “Well, okay, more than a few miles … but still …”
A strange cranking noise came from under the hood followed by a creak and a loud pop.
Dakota breathed out a long exhale and doubled down on the wheel, clamping her foot down on the gas pedal. She had just passed the sign for Philipsburg, Montana, and the SUV had to make it at least another twenty miles before they were home free. The whole damn day had been one from hell. Her knuckles turned white on the steering wheel, and the whole car gave a giant rattle, jolting her in her seat.
“Fuck,” she said out loud as a sinking sensation whipped through her stomach.
Dakota knew with a sense of dread that there was no saving the situation. With a quick grumble, she pulled over to the shoulder.
“Please, with everything I’ve dealt with this past week, please just be fixable,” she muttered under her breath.
The Explorer had been with Dakota since she’d first gotten her license at sixteen years old. Her dad had bought her the SUV from a buddy of his. It’d been far from new, had quite a few dents and scratches, but she’d fallen in love with it the day he parked the blue Explorer on their driveway.
For the most part, her beloved car had been more than reliable, but the irony that it had chosen this moment to crap out on her hit her over the head like a thousand-pound hammer. Everything in her life was breaking, so why the hell wouldn’t the SUV follow suit? A new start. That’s all she’d wanted, and look what she was getting for it.
Dakota pressed her lips together, jerked the key out of the ignition, and pocketed it. She closed her eyes and leaned back in the seat and swallowed past the lump in her throat. Blindly, she fumbled through her bag for the water bottle then took a giant swig. She was already overheating in the midday summer sun. AC was a nice little luxury that had been broken since her dad had bought the vehicle. She grabbed a tissue from her purse and wiped the sweat from her face as she stared out the windshield.A miracle’s not going to happen. I’m just delaying the inevitable.Dakota yanked open the creaky door and shoved one foot onto the steaming pavement.
“Ugh.” She tied her waist-length, dyed blonde hair up in a sloppy bun.
She winced as she stuck her hands under the burning hood and popped it, then looked down into the steaming wreckage of her engine. Yeah, there was no saving that mess. Dakota didn’t really know what she was looking at, but anyone could clearly see that it wasn’t good. The whole engine block smelled like burning oil—a thick and acrid odor. She slammed down the hood.
“Dammit!” she yelled. There sure as hell wasn’t a way she could afford a tow truck, let alone a mechanic to check out the damage. She’d used the last half of her meager savings to buy gas a couple miles back, which was pretty damn pointless now.
There was no other option—it was time to stick out her thumb.
Dakota nabbed her bag out of the passenger seat, took a quick chug of water, and started to walk toward her final destination. The heat was already in her face as it sank into her skin in waves, and the air in front of her shimmered as she took slow, measured steps forward. The sun and humidity were relentless. There was little doubt it would only get worse, so walking the twenty or so miles into town?Not an option.
“Come on, universe, give me something good, will you?” Dakota murmured to herself as she stuck her thumb out and kept walking down the side of the nearly empty road. “Couldn’t have happened on a highway,noooo … I had to take the damn back roads.”
The idea of anyone stopping for a hitchhiker these days was insane. There was too much at stake and a majority of people didn’t have the time or the heart to take a risk on someone who could be a psycho killer. Not that she fit the profile. A five-foot-five blonde with a slight, slim build could hardly take on anyone. The truth was thatshewould be prime bait for anyone trying to take advantage.
Dakota winced at the thoughts flying through her mind.
She rubbed her temple as her chest grew tight and she tried to take a deep breath. Nope, that wasn’t happening.Now isn’t the time for a panic attack.As a sweep of anxiety washed over her, she clenched her teeth and shut her eyes.One breath. Two breaths. Three.It was trite as hell, but sometimes it worked, especially if she was lucky and caught the symptoms quick enough. Thinking of all the events that had transpired to put her on the runagainwasn’t helping one bit.
“Focus, dammit.” Dakota breathed in and out and tried to keep moving despite the epic heat wave and the threat of fight or flight that screamed in the back of her brain. She blinked a few times and studied the tarmac at her feet.
A loud rumble filled her ears then it died down to a deep growl.
“You need a ride?”
Dakota stumbled over her feet and glanced up. A metallic purple motorcycle blinded her under the afternoon sun.
“What the—” She took a few steps back. “Where did you come from?”
The rider grunted and shrugged one shoulder. He looked back toward the road, as if he was ready to get going again. What the hell was she supposed to do with this? Sure, she needed a break—but one who rode a motorcycle wasn’t on the agenda. Dakota frowned and shielded the sun from her face as she looked him over.
The biker was clearly older than her twenty years, and he had an edge to him. A black bandana dotted with skulls covered his head and a small silver hoop in his right ear gleamed in the sunlight. Mirrored sunglasses with flame-style frames wrapped around his eyes and she could see her reflection in them, reminding her of the distortion mirrors at the carnival that used to come through her hometown of Pocatello, Idaho, when she was a kid. Dark blond scruff covered his strong jawline. He wore a sleeveless leather vest and blue jeans that fit tight over his corded thighs.
“You wanna a ride or not?” His voice was a low, gruff rub.
Dakota brushed away the stray hairs sticking to her sweaty face as she shifted from one foot to the other, her gaze still fixed on him.
A full sleeve of tattoos decorated the one arm she could see—and she was sure there was more ink on the parts of him that were clothed. A small tingle licked up the back of her neck. His tats ranged from skulls and a giant Grim Reaper to a few text-based pieces she couldn’t make out that were slightly faded out. But either way, the biker had one hell of a canvas on him.
