Unbridled and Unjustified [The Double Rider Men's Club 11] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) (22 page)

The sounds of the coming night ensued, and dusk enveloped them as they drove away down past Jed’s Gas and Go and out onto the lonely secondary highway.

Declan rose and watched out the back window for any cars following them, but there was nothing. “No one is following us.”

“Maybe the revving vehicles weren’t his backup. Maybe he’s still running through the woods like a coward,” Ava said.

“That would be too much to expect.” Declan didn’t want to be a pessimist, but an assassin with the success rate that Demetrius Barkova had enjoyed over his career wasn’t stupid. And regardless of his intelligence level, he’d still keep coming. Even though they didn’t have confirmation of Diego’s true identity yet, Declan didn’t believe in coincidences. What were the odds that two different men wanted to kill Ava? Declan slid down to rest sideways on the seat.

“We left all of our stuff behind.” Ava said quietly. Perhaps she was in shock again.

“Yeah. And he’s probably all over that cabin by now.” Troy muscled the wheel to the right. “We’ll get some new supplies later. I’m headed north, but if anyone
is
out there coming after us, they are sure to be on our tails very soon. Since we’re the only vehicle on the road, we won’t be very hard to find.”

Declan felt runnels of blood drip across his chest and land on the seat. Ava was facedown on the floor and silent. He put a hand on her back. “Are you okay?”

She nodded, and her eyes then focused on the blood running across his chest. She sucked in a breath and said urgently, “But you’re bleeding like a stuck pig on a sweltering summer day. There’s blood all over everything back here.”

“How bad are you hurt?” Troy asked from the front seat.

“Not too bad. My head hurts like a son of a bitch, and the wound is still bleeding freely, but I’m conscious, speaking coherently, and the best news of all is that I don’t want to throw up anymore.”

Troy increased his speed. “I thought it was just a knot on your head.”

Ava climbed onto the seat beside him and carefully probed his wound. “It
is
a knot on his head. A big one. And also a really big gash. A deep one. He needs stitches.”

Troy muttered a curse word under his breath. “How long before we’ll need to get you stitched up?”

“I don’t know.” Declan laughed. “A day at least before infection sets in, probably.”

Ava grabbed a white cloth—like a small dishtowel that was shoved in the pocket back of the passenger seat—and sniffed it. Apparently finding that it was reasonably clean, she then half folded and half wadded it up, placing it gently over his wound. The pressure of her fingers hurt a bit, but he didn’t say anything. Rivulets of blood gushed from beneath the cloth and her fingertips in seconds. He felt blood splash on his neck.

“He’s going to bleed out before any infection from the cut becomes a problem.” Ava readjusted her fingers, and the blood stopped dripping on him.

“Nah. It’s just a head wound. Bleeds like a son of a gun at first, but it won’t kill me.”

“Still. We should get you looked at sooner rather than later. It’s a nasty, deep jagged cut.” She kept steady pressure on the wound.

Troy gunned the engine, and the vehicle sped up. The needle passed seventy-five miles per hour. The vehicle swerved from side to side as Troy turned it along the sudden curve in the road.

“Any ideas for where we could go to get you cleaned up?” he asked without looking behind him or into the rearview mirror. He passed each and every one of the three cars they saw along the road. It was almost completely dark “Not before cops chase you down for out-of-control speeding.”

“Well, we aren’t afraid of the cops anymore, are we?”

“No. But if they arrest you for reckless endangerment, that will make it easier for Mr. Strangle to find us. Slow down. You got away clean. No one came after us.” The sounds of the motor slowing and the feel of the sway lessening also calmed Declan.

“Fine, I’ll stow my racing skills for now. Any idea of where we could go to lay low to get you cleaned up ourselves? Guess we’ll also need a few supplies, right?”

Declan searched his memory. “I know a place we can go. And if memory serves, there’s a gas station on the road to get there.”

“Where?”

“It’s in Kansas, not too far across the border. In about ten more miles you’ll turn and head west.”

“Any particular road you want me on?”

“No. Driver’s choice. Just head for Wichita, it’s less than an hour to get there once you turn west and make it across the state line. After you pass the three silos after going through the small city of Holt, look for the arched entryway labeled Circle W on the right-hand side. There’s a turnoff into the gate, but you’ll have to move the chain to drive through. It’s a large property. No one lives there, but it’s for sale. We won’t be able to stay there long without someone noticing.”

“What is this place?”

“My childhood home. Did I ever tell you I was a cowboy when I was younger?”

“No.” Ava pressed harder. “But cowboys are hot.”

“If you think cowboys are hot, wait until you find out about the bad-boy bootleggers in my family history,” Declan said with a satisfied laugh. The pain in his head took him to a new level of torture at his amusement so he sobered quickly.

“Can’t go there. It’s too risky,” Troy said from the front seat. “Jed told me that the assassin has our names. I can’t imagine it will be difficult for him to track down any and all places we’ve ever lived.”

“Including our current domain in Colorado.”

“Are you saying we shouldn’t go home?”

“No. I don’t know. My head hurts. Call Clay. Maybe he can direct us to somewhere else close by.”

Troy straightened the wheel. “Shit. I forgot. He tried to call earlier as I was running up the hill to the cabin after Jed mentioned that he’d found a
friend
of ours and told him where we were.” He retrieved his phone and thumb-dialed the number. “Clay. We need help. Ava’s contractor Diego is the one after us, and—”

Even from the back of the van, Declan heard Clay’s deep voice interrupt. He couldn’t discern the words said next, but Clay’s tone sounded even more serious than usual.

“Because he just tried to strangle Ava and also bashed Declan in the head with a rock before running away like a coward.” He paused for a few seconds, listening. “How do you know that? Whatever. Never mind. We just jumped in the van and sped away. We need a new place to hide out. No. We’ll barely make it into Kansas as it is.”

Declan glanced at Ava. She looked worried. And the mere mention of Diego’s name made her stiffen. In that moment he softened his harsh attitude on the idea of permanence with regard to women. He could so easily picture Ava in their life. He was even more surprised to realize that he truly wanted her there.

“How long to get there?” Troy asked into the phone and pulled Declan right out of his happily-ever-after fantasy. Declan would miss Ava if she left them. She was a fighter. She certainly understood betrayal. Probably even more so than he did. She’d remained strong and determined, fighting back even when the assassin she’d trusted to build her home had wrapped his hands around her throat.

Troy shook his head even though Clay couldn’t see him. “No. That’s too far.” He listened more, then said, “Won’t work. Because Declan’s got a head wound, and it’s bleeding like crazy. We were going to head for Declan’s childhood home. It’s a ranch in Kansas, we know it might be dangerous, but we’re low on options.”

Declan felt a wave of weakness roll through him. He didn’t want to lose consciousness. Troy’s voice suddenly sounded like it was coming from far away.
Shit
. He shook his head to clear it, which didn’t help much.

“Stop moving,” Ava whispered. She pushed the cloth against his head more firmly.

“I’m headed north on the highway right outside of where the cabin was.”

He listened for a few seconds then said, “No. That’s even more risky. I don’t want to take off on a random side road only to find out it dead ends inconveniently, and with full-on darkness coming in minutes you won’t be able to guide us even if you do hack another satellite.”

Troy listened for a while longer, then said, “We
should
take him to a hospital, but he won’t go because we’d risk Ava in that chaotic environment and—”

Troy stopped talking all of a sudden like he’d gotten cut off. He listened for several seconds and then pulled the phone two feet away from his head to curse a long continuous blue streak of obvious frustration in the form of some very creative combinations of swear words. He put the phone back to his ear. “Yes. I’m back. Right. Got it.”

“What did he say?” Declan asked.

Troy didn’t answer. He rolled his window down and tossed the cellular phone out onto the highway as they sped by, leaving it behind in the proverbial dust.

“We’re on our own for now. He suggested a place to hide, but it’s several hours away, and I’m not sure we have enough gas to get there since I didn’t get a chance to fill up before we left. Dangerous or not, I’m heading for your ranch in Kansas. It’s currently our best and only option.”

Dusk had descended rapidly with night closely on its heels, so when the headlights from a car behind them suddenly appeared, Declan inched his head over the backseat to see, but only saw the high beams suddenly brighten the back of the van. An expensive sports car eventually passed them, likely doing much more than the posted speed limit.

As if they didn’t have enough to deal with, the skies then opened up and a torrential rain began to fall, soon followed by thunder and lightning. Troy turned on the windshield wipers and obligingly slowed down to be safe even though Declan knew he probably wanted to race forward and away from the assassin bent on killing Ava.

* * * *

Clay studied the Beverly’s Place video and tried not to doze off in his chair. Watching the footage of the inner workings of a late-night truck stop diner was akin to watching blades of grass get taller. But he pressed on. He got to the scene where Ava exited the bathroom and ran into the man who then accosted her. He didn’t have audio so he couldn’t hear what they were saying, but he got the general idea of what had happened from their body language alone.

He watched as she accidentally ran into the fat guy and lost her hat. The fat guy grabbed her shoulders without really needing to. She broke away and said something after snatching her ball cap from the floor. Fat Guy then captured her left hand, and Clay tensed in his chair. She shook her head and said something else. Her body language was clear. It screamed, “
Get away from me
.”

The fat pervert then pushed her against the wall. Clay sat up, his spine rigid with fury. He loathed when men didn’t take no for an answer. If
he’d
been there, the guy would have gone flying out the nearest window or wall, whichever seemed like it would cause the most pain.

All of a sudden, Troy entered the frame, grasped the guy’s shirt one-handed at the neck, and pulled him off of Ava. He saw Troy’s other hand clench into a fist at his side, but he didn’t take a swing at the idiot. Clay knew he’d had to restrain himself because they were on the run. Punching the guy in the jaw or starting a fistfight—while completely justified—might have brought the police into the matter.

Troy knew the stakes. He acted responsibly. Clay wanted to believe he would have had the same self-control Troy displayed, but wasn’t certain.

He’d have to tell Troy he had awesome self-discipline. In the same situation, with a woman he was falling for, Clay might not have been able to control himself. And it was clear by the way Troy looked at her that he was definitely a man falling in love.

The sap.

Then he shook his head and revised his attitude. Clay and Jake were currently on the lookout for a woman they could fall in love with and make a permanent life with. So that made him a sap as well.

He wondered if Troy had admitted his feelings. Probably not. Declan was notoriously against permanence in the “let’s settle down with a female” department. His ex-wife had done a number on him long ago. He wouldn’t be easily swayed into a committed relationship again, unfortunately.

An hour later, he was about to slide forward and plant his face in the middle of his keyboard. Shit, this stuff was boring. Jake walked in all of a sudden and distracted him from the video. “Did you find anything on the tape?”

Clay shook his head. “No. Just people eating.”

“Exciting stuff. Want me to join you? Or perhaps you could watch my beard grow instead to change things up a bit.”

“Funny. Do you have anything relevant to say, or are you just here to distract me?”

Jake sobered. “I do have some disturbing information. It’s the reason I’m here. I’m not even sure that it’s relevant, but possibly.”

Clay was so eager to stop watching the diner footage that he turned with an interested expression. “What is it?”

“I have a friend who’s monitoring a wire on a phone line connected to those we believe were responsible for the original bombing at Sasha’s house. They just received an interesting message a few minutes ago and called to give me a heads-up.”