“He can explain that,” he replied. “It’s not my business.”

  “If you’re Fortitude, then it is your business.”

  “Maybe you misheard me. It’s not my business to tell you.”

  “It must be something heavy,” I went on after a moment. “Full-on mafia. Has to be if some guy is trying to attack me on the other side of the country. Especially since I’m not part of his family.”

  He shook his head and his jaw tensed. “You really don’t know, do you?”

  “I know enough.” I kicked the toe of my boot against the side of the pump.

  He raised an eyebrow and pulled the nozzle out of the fuel tank. “I thought you’d cry more.”

  “Excuse me?” I scoffed. “Just because I’m a woman, doesn’t mean—”

  Chaser grunted and curled his lip. “That’s not what I meant.”

  “This world is already screwed up,” I told him. “Either that, or I’ve seen too many violent movies and been desensitised to it, even when it’s happening to me.”

  “That’s not a good thing.” He returned the nozzle to the pump.

  “Duh.”

  “I’m going inside. Get back in the car.”

  Shoving off the side of the car, I darted between the pumps and sauntered towards the automatic doors. Chaser was beside me in an instant.

  “I said—”

  “Get over yourself. I’m not going to do a runner.”

  He grabbed my arm and pulled me to his side, making me stumble.

  “I’m hungry,” I declared, tensing at his closeness. His fingers felt like unbreakable steel closing around my flesh.

  “Get back in the car, and I’ll bring you something.”

  His attitude was really wearing me down.

  “Chaser, we’re in the middle of nowhere.” I waved my hands around, forcing him to let me go. “Who’s going to find us out here? And more importantly, where am I going to run to? Believe me, I’ve already done the math.”

  He scowled at me but I stood my ground, glaring right back. Our staring competition went on for a full minute before he cracked.

  “If you squeal, there’ll be trouble,” he told me.

  “Give me some credit.” I flicked my hair over my shoulder. “I’m a survivor, Chaser, and right now, you’re my best chance.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Get inside before I change my mind.”

  The automatic doors swished open as we approached, which was quite the technological feat for an out-of-the-way roadhouse.

  Inside, it seemed to double as the local store. There were shelves of everyday groceries, along with cheap hardware and a rack of magazines. Lingering by the chocolates, I eyed a Mars bar as Chaser paid for the petrol. They were yapping about the weather when a stand of sunglasses caught my eye.

  Turning it around, I perused the selection while studying Chaser in the mirror. After crossing the Nullarbor, there was a border checkpoint where they canvassed for fruit and vegetables. I’d never realised it was a thing until I’d moved across country, but biosecurity was a serious thing between states. There might be someone there who could help get me away from Chaser, even though it was still an isolated place. But still, it was the only border crossing for hundreds of kilometres.

  Picking up a pair of aviator sunglasses with a blue tint on the lenses, I slipped them on. Angling my head from side to side, I studied my reflection and concluded that I looked badarse.

  “Hey,” I said, calling out to Chaser, who was still at the counter. “Give me five bucks.”

  He turned and glared while the attendant—a man who seemed to be in his thirties—looked at me with interest.

  “Why?” Chaser asked.

  “I want these.” I turned my head from side to side so he could see. “How do I look?”

  “Put those back,” he barked.

  “You look good,” the guy behind the counter said.

  “See?” I pointed at the guy and pouted at Chaser. “Five bucks won’t emasculate you.”

  Chaser rolled his eyes and handed a note to the attendant. “The petrol and the sunglasses.”

  The cash register dinged as the money exchanged hands, and I admired myself in the mirror once more for good measure. A moment later, I was dragged outside and towards the pub.

  “Hey!”

  Ignoring my protests, Chaser towed me across the yard, through another door, and into the pub. He strode up to the woman behind the bar, letting me follow behind.

  “What can I get you?” she asked, leaning forwards and placing her hand on the bar.

  “A hamburger with the lot, with chips and tomato sauce on the side,” I rattled off my order. “And a Coke. A big one.”

  The woman raised an eyebrow at Chaser. “And you?”

  “Double it,” he said, not taking his eyes off me. He handed her a yellow fifty-dollar note. “Keep the change.”

  “Right,” she said taking the money. “Sit anywhere you like. I’ll bring your food over when it’s ready.”

  Chaser’s gaze was making me uncomfortable, and I watched the woman shout our order to the cook.

  He grabbed my wrist and dragged me along a row of tables before practically shoving me into a seat by the window. He sat opposite, his expression pure thunder.

  A table full of grey nomads—over-fifty-fives who travelled around in their caravans long-term—were eyeing us but didn’t try to butt in.

  “Careful with that grip of yours, people are watching,” I murmured.

  Chaser snorted and leaned back, drawing my attention away from the oldies and back to him.

  “You know, you really need to lay off with the manhandling,” I told him. “It’s giving people the wrong impression.”

  He ground his teeth, signalling he was about to blow a gasket.

  “You run with bikers, but I don’t think you’re one. Not really,” I added, reaching for a serviette, which I laid over my lap.

  He glanced out the window. “That’s a dangerous observation.”

  “Avoiding eye contact…” I mused. “Interesting.”

  “You’re the biggest pain in the arse I’ve ever met,” he said with a snarl, leaning over the table. “You’re childish, petulant, and borderline stupid.”

  “Petulant? That’s a big word for a tricycle tyrant.” I smiled sweetly even though his words cut.

  He was right about all of it. It was beyond time to grow up, and I’d done that the moment I’d left the foster system all those years ago. But ever since Chaser showed up… Riling him up was the best entertainment going around, and I wasn’t going to make things easy for him. By the time I found a window of opportunity, he’d be begging to get rid of me. Win-win.

  “The problem is,” he went on, my insult bouncing off his hard outer shell, “all that nonsense coming out of your mouth is bravado. That’s not who you are.”

  I tensed. “How would you know?”

  “Professional experience.”

  The sunglasses felt heavy on top of my head. Just when I thought I had him pegged, he said something that threw me off course. He didn’t look like a biker, but it didn’t mean he was or wasn’t. He could’ve come from anywhere.

  “I guess we’ve both got things to hide,” he said, studying me.

  “So you don’t deny it.”

  “You’d be a moron to believe people weren’t lying to you about something. Even when they say they’re being transparent.”

  “Humanity sucks,” I said.

  He licked his lips. “It has its uses.”

  “I’ve never met a single person I would die for.”

  He laughed like I’d just told the funniest joke ever and ran his hand over his face.

  “What?” I demanded, giving him the dirtiest look I could muster.

  “You’re really self-centred. I’ll have to add that to the list.”

  My mouth fell open. “Excuse me?”

  “Wake up, princess,” he said, his lip curling. “Most people haven’t found the one. I would go as far to say that that kind of thing happens to one in a trillion, and there ain’t a trillion people on this pathetic excuse of a rock. You need to readjust your expectations.”

  “And where should I readjust them to? My father? You?”

  He shrugged, falling silent as the woman dumped our order onto the table.

  “Enjoy,” she drawled, slamming the two Cokes down so violently, some of the soft drink sloshed onto the table.

  “I think she needs to readjust her expectations,” I said the moment she walked away.

  “You can never trust someone completely, Sloane,” Chaser said. “That’s just facts.”

  I made a face. “Oh, you’re preaching to the choir.”

  “The only thing you need to believe about me is that I won’t let you die. Whatever else you think doesn’t matter.”

  I stared at him, the smell of the cooked food making my stomach growl. His head tilted slightly to the side, signalling he was waiting. For what, who knew?

  He wouldn’t let me die? I wasn’t sure if I should flip him the bird or throw him a parade. This push and pull we had going on was wearing thin. One second he wasn’t so bad, but then he shoved everything away with his stellar personality. He was real top-shelf material.

  “If you’re waiting for some kind of epiphany from me, you’re not getting one,” I said. Picking up my burger, I took a bite that sent sauce up my face and lettuce hanging out my mouth. “Bon appétit.”

  Chapter 8

  Chaser

  I refused to believe Sloane was that childish. She was the daughter of an alpha.

  She was putting together an escape plan, that much was clear. Annoy the hell out of me, steal her stuff back, then leg it into a crowd, hoping I’d be glad to see the back of her.

  That’s how my targets usually did it, but I always found them. After that, things usually became worse…for them, not me.

  Don’t disappoint me, Chaser. You know what happens when you do.

  I squeezed my eyes shut. One shot was all it took to destroy someone’s life. One shot to bind them to you forever.

  Death begat death, and revenge begat revenge. Round and round it went, and it never stopped.

  In the end, it wasn’t worth it. It fixed nothing.

  It didn’t bring her back, and now I was stuck, and it wasn’t just in another motel room with yet another descendant of the wolf who’d tricked me into flushing my life down the toilet… Endless servitude caused by a debt that would never be repaid—a life for a life.

  Hindsight was brutal, especially for the immortal.

  I let the shower run as I ate, gulping down the bag of blood I’d smuggled inside, still in two minds on whether I should break the supernatural news to Sloane or not.

  Tomorrow we’d hit the vast expanse of nothing called the Nullarbor Plain—the straightest stretch of road in Australia at 145.6 km. There’d be little in the way of food between here and the Western Australian border, and I had no time or desire to go chasing animals across the outback. I could forget about carrying blood bags in the dry heat, too.

  I had to gorge myself and hope I didn’t get high.

  When I was done, I turned off the shower and opened the door.

  Sloane was laying on the bed, in the top she liked to sleep in, reading a book that looked more like a brick than anything else. I narrowed my eyes at the sight before me—my vision sharper now that I’d fed—and closed the door with a bang.

  She didn’t flinch.

  Rubbing my damp hair with a threadbare towel, I tossed it over the back of a chair.

  “What’s that?” I asked, unable to hold on to my curiosity.

  “It’s a book,” she retorted. “You know, with the pages and the words and the stuff.”

  “Hilarious.”

  Stepping past her, I grabbed the book and tore it from her grasp. She kicked up a stink as I turned it over in my hands.

  “Theory and Methods in Political Science,” I read aloud. “What’s this for?”

  “I’m working on a university degree,” she said, snatching the book back. “I’m not giving up on it just because you kidnapped me.”

  “I wouldn’t call it kidnapping,” I said, the word ‘university’ the last thing I was expecting her to say. It was another clue to the interior she was hiding underneath all that childishness.

  “You’re forcing me to go with you against my will. That’s kidnapping.”

  Snorting, I glanced at the bright yellow highlighter in her hand.

  “What do you want that book for anyway?” I went on. “You want to be a politician?”

  She shrugged.

  “You’ve got the mouth for it.” I tossed the book onto the bed.

  “I don’t know what I want to be,” she said, rolling her eyes. “But I don’t want to be dumb doing whatever it is. Knowledge is power.”

  I raised an eyebrow, my gaze dropping to the book again. That was a mystery I wasn’t sure I wanted to unravel.

  Leaving her to her studies, or whatever she wanted to call it, I sat at the table and turned on the television. I scrolled through the channels, looking for a local news station, but I couldn’t help glancing at her again.

  Her head was buried in her book, the highlighter squeaking across the page.

  She didn’t trust or believe other people had her best interests at heart, but here she was, still trying to invest in her future with that stupid book. And I was taking her back to a life that could only end in tragedy, even though she was on a hit list.

  I was stuck, and now, so was she.

  I could say I didn’t care all I wanted, but I didn’t have a choice. Orders were orders.

  She was a Marini Wolf…and one in a million. Her life was never going to be her own.

  Chapter 9

  Sloane

  Turning off the shower, I dried myself off, patting the threadbare towel over my body.

  That morning, I’d woken up on the side of the bed labeled ‘frustrated.’ The longer Chaser and I were on this screwed-up road trip to hell, the more confused I became. It was like I’d stepped into some parallel universe where nothing was as it seemed.

  I was beginning to doubt that the bad guys Chaser had decided he was there to protect me from even existed. If it weren’t for the very real encounter with that guy behind the Sailor’s Arms, and the pool of blood Mrs. Adelstein had been lying in, I would’ve laughed in his face.

  I studied myself in the mirror as I towel-dried my hair. I’d never put much thought into my looks before. I was just a plain girl keeping her head down. I wasn’t exactly ugly, but I never put in much effort. My hair wasn’t coloured, I didn’t get my nails done, and I had no idea what my eyebrows were doing. I knew people plucked them, or waxed, or something…but I’d never put much brain power into thinking about it.

  I guessed I saw myself as average. My gaze lowered, taking in the rest of my body. I guess I wasn’t overweight or anything… Bloody hell, Sloane. Why do you care?

  Rolling my eyes, I pulled on my clothes. Sitting on the closed toilet lid, I towelled my hair once more and tossed it onto the floor, my gaze catching on something hidden in the bin.

  A wad of toilet paper had been stuffed inside, which was nothing special, but it was stained with dark splotches of reddish brown that looked an awful lot like blood.

  Curiosity got the better of me and I lifted the wad of paper with the tip of my pinky finger. A heavy-duty plastic bag was wrapped up inside, full of something red. Blood, I realised. It was blood.

  Pulling back a bit more of the paper, I realised it was one of those hospital baggies—the kind they kept blood inside with all those tubes to hook up to IVs and other fancy machines.

  I curled my nose and let the paper fall back into place. What was Chaser doing with it? Did he have some kind of secret illness? Was it a drug thing? Maybe the room hadn’t been entirely cleaned between guests and I was reading too much into it. If it wasn’t Chaser’s, then gross.

  Then again, I was dealing with Fortitude and my father. It could be absolutely anything. I’d have to keep my mind sharp and my eyes peeled.

  Time to level up, Sloane.

  I washed my hands in case it was a biohazard-type deal and pushed out of the bathroom. I sat on the end of the bed, but Chaser didn’t even look at me. The moment the bathroom was free, he strode into it and slammed the door behind him.

  Maybe I was reading too much into it.

  Picking up my textbook, I shoved it into my bag. It was nearly impossible to study while Chaser stared at me like I’d sprouted a second head. Did he think it was a waste of time to get a degree? Pfft, what would he know? It was a miracle he even knew what a book was.

  Looking at his bag, I felt the telltale signs of temptation. My money might be in there. Glancing at the bathroom door, my mind went blank as I realised the door hadn’t closed. A gap the width of my palm granted me access to the ultimate peep show, and another kind of temptation reared its ugly head.

  Gross. I made a face and turned away.

  What was that blood bag for? I shook my head and pulled on my boots. Like I could ask him. I’d done enough to rile the guy up and asking if he had a secret illness was a step too far…which was saying something considering the mouth I had.

  When Chaser emerged from the bathroom, I dragged my bag out to the car while he returned the room key.

  Waiting for my chauffeur in the front seat of the car, I watched as he appeared around the corner and strode towards me. Broad shoulders, his T-shirt clung to his muscled chest, the edges of his tattoo peeking out of the collar, his stubbled jaw, and hair that fell forwards over his brow. He looked like an ordinary tough guy—just another criminal in a long line waiting back in Melbourne. He didn’t look sick or high. If I had to choose between the two, I’d guess he was hiding a secret tumour, providing the blood bag was his. Maybe I should check for track marks…

  When Chaser got in the car, he shoved my feet off the dashboard. “How many times do I have to tell you to keep your feet down?”

  Putting on my five-dollar sunglasses, I made a face. My gaze lowered, studying every inch of him. He was wearing a jacket, but maybe there was a prick or two on the back of his hand. He was well-aware I was staring because his hand tightened on the gear stick.