Page 67 of Riding Hard
“The fuck are you talking about?” I demand.
“Yeah, have you looked there?” Elodie asks.
“What the fuck are you talking about?” I growl.
I almost call her a bitch, but I refrain—just barely—because she is Wrath’s old lady and that would be disrespectful as fuck. But I’m really goddamn close. Impatiently, I wait for someone to tell me what the hell is going on. They don’t speak fast enough, and I start to demand answers when Alex speaks again.
“She rented a place in town, and we helped her do everything. She moved all her shit out of the motel, as far as I know, and went to your place. But she still has it. Like it was a full-year lease.”
My fingers itch to wring his neck only because he didn’t tell me this information the second I walked through the door. “You know how to get there?” I demand.
But then, before I can tell him to get his shit and let’s fucking go, Fantasy and Wrath make themselves known.
“We’ll go together,” Wrath states.
He knows about Juliette’s ex from the things I’ve told him, and he also knows she’s my old lady now, just in case something like this went down. I don’t argue. I watch as Alex dips his head and looks down at Fantasy’s phone as they put in the directions for the condo.
Thank fuck someone else is going to be leading this, because I can’t even think straight right now, let alone try and figure out directions. Less than five minutes later, we’re on our bikes and riding toward the condo.
Fuck me, I had no idea she had a place, let alone where it was. All I’ve been worried about is fucking her as many times and in as many different positions as possible. I knew Victor coming back was a real possibility, but I didn’t think he’d have found her this quickly.
The closer I get, the calmer I feel. I’m going to tear this fucker from limb to limb, and I’m going to enjoy it.
Every goddamn second of it.
I can’t fucking wait.
CHAPTER
FIFTY-FOUR
JULIETTE
Victor slams his hand down on the side of my head. My back aches from the hard floor beneath it. As much as I hate the fact that this asshole has violated me again, I can’t deny that soft carpeting or a bed would be nice around about now.
But as he does whatever it is he does, something I can’t allow myself to even think about, my gaze shifts to the side, and I look at the gun.
All I need is that weapon.
I ignore the way my body hurts, ignore the words he keeps saying. Disgusting, vile words. I don’t care. I’ve heard them all before, and they don’t affect me. Slipping my tongue out, I wet my dry lips and wait for my moment, for my opportunity.
When he releases the gun, his fingers curling around my neck, I know this is my only shot. His fingers tighten around my throat, cutting off my oxygen. Everything becomes a little hazy as he begins to grip me harder. His fingers flex around my throat as he moves.
Careful not to make any sudden movements, I slowly slide my hand across the floor, straight out from my side, before I bend my elbow and reach for the gun. My fingers graze the bottom of the handle. It’s cool, and I wish I could grab hold of it tightly enough that I could use it on him immediately.
Pulling it down slightly, I try to get it close enough to grab, but the edges of my vision begin to turn black, and I know I’m going to be useless soon. I’ll be passed out, and he’ll do whatever he wants to me—I’m afraid he might kill me this time.
“Choke for me,” Victor hisses. “I want to be inside you when you die, you fucking cunt. I want him to know I took everything.”
“Why?” I rasp.
He throws back his head in laughter, slightly releasing his grasp, just enough for me to get a hold of the gun without him realizing it. I slide it down to my side, my fingers fumbling for a grip on it as my vision grows darker and darker.
I can’t breathe.
It’s happening. I’m going to pass out.
My arm feels like it’s moving through Jell-O as I lift it up and shift it between us. My hand isn’t trembling. It’s steadier than it’s ever been, not because I’m suddenly brave, but because I’m at the do-or-die point of desperation.
