Page 68 of Riding Hard

I squeeze the trigger just as my last bits of vision begin to vanish. And then his hand is loose, but his body is heavy on top of me. I scramble, pushing him off with everything I have—with almost herculean strength.

He rolls over onto his back, and I move away from him, also feeling as if I’m moving through gelatin as I attempt to catch my breath. I can’t take in a deep breath, and I can’t return to my normal breathing, so I just take in short pants in hopes that my body will somehow regulate.

“You bitch,” he growls.

He’s holding his stomach. But he’s still alive. Even though my ears are ringing, I can hear his voice loud and clear. My body hurts everywhere. It’s so bad that standing isn’t an option. Sliding toward him, I keep my hand curled around the gun, holding it out.

Victor tries to stand, but I can’t let him anywhere near me. He will kill me if he gets close to me. “Fuck you,” I hiss, my voice coming out raspy and ragged even to my own ears as he starts to crawl toward me.

I squeeze the trigger as many times as I can, until it’s just empty clicking. I don’t move the gun, though. I keep my arm straight as I continue to point it directly at Victor’s lifeless body. There’s blood everywhere, and the puddle around him grows larger and larger by the second.

I can't look away from his body, wondering if he’s going to suddenly suck in a breath, open his eyes, and come after me. I don’t even blink. I stay with my arm straight, my eyes focused on him.

I wait.

I don’t know what to do, what to think. I just stay where I am, every muscle frozen in place.

I wait.

I don’t know what I’m waiting for, but I’m not ready to move. I’m not sure I’ll ever be ready to move again.

CHAPTER

FIFTY-FIVE

LOOT

We pull up to the condo complex, though we don’t come rumbling straight to Juliette’s place, knowing we’d be heard before we could even stop our bikes and run inside. Instead, we park a few buildings away.

I shouldn’t be surprised that it’s not the hood, but it’s not bougie, either. I have a feeling she’s been staying in some shady places over the years. Given how long she's been on the run, this is probably a mansion for her. Good news is, she’ll never have to be on the run again.

She’s going to have roots here.

My fucking roots.

Elodie and Alex found her a decent place in a somewhat decent neighborhood. It’s probably a little more than she can comfortably afford. I mean, she’s never going to live here. I’m going to get this lease canceled

Maybe that’s why she was so ready to stay at my place and never told me about this one. She probably doesn’t even have a bed to sleep in. I don’t know why I’m even thinking about that. I should be focused on what is waiting for me inside that condo.

“You good?” Wrath asks from beside me.

We’ve killed our engines, and we’re sitting here, unmoving, when I should be running straight inside—directly to her. I don’t know if I’m good. My body trembles, and I throw my leg off my bike.

I’ve never been hesitant about anything like this before. I’m always the one who runs headfirst, no fucks given, but this is different. It’s because I fell in love with Juliette the moment my eyes landed on her in the church room.

I didn’t even see her face. I fell in love with her bent over in front of me—ass in my face, fucking gorgeous. Then I started talking to her, touched her, kissed her, and knew she was the one.

The one.

Fifty fucking years old, and I’m thinking like a punk-ass kid. But it’s the truth. I fucking love her. I’ve never felt this way before in my life, and now I’m feeling something else that is beyond foreign.

“Let’s go,” I grind out.

I don’t tell him that I’m good, because I’m not. But I need to get into that house. I need to see her and know that she’s okay. I need to kill that sonofabitch. We hurry toward the condo on foot.

Alex leads us, mainly so we know where we’re going, but Fantasy has already informed him that he will stand to the side and out of the way when we go in. Something that made Alex roll his eyes to the sky. I might not understand the draw between two men being together, but I can tell they’re good for one another. I like it for them.

We stand in front of the door. I take the lead, though I don’t feel like I should be the one in front. Reaching for the doorknob, I try to turn it, but it’s locked. “Locked,” I call out. I take a step backward, then another, before I lift my foot and attempt to kick it down.