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The moonlight flickers through the trees like a broken strobe light, casting eerie shadows that dance across the road.
My mind races as fast as my bike. I can’t stay in Alabama.
There are too many memories and too much pain. Not to mention, I just killed my father. I have to keep moving.
I zip past the old gas station where I used to buy smokes as a kid.
The place is a shell now, just like everything else in this godforsaken town.
A blur of rusted pumps and shattered windows. Good riddance.
The miles melt away under my tires, each one a step closer to freedom.
The weight of what I’ve done presses heavy on my chest, but I push it down.
No time for regrets.
Lights from an oncoming car flash in the distance.
I squint, leaning into the curve, knowing the worst of my life is over, and for the first time, I can look forward to my future.
CHAPTER ONE
Present Day . . .
Jordyn
The bass from the speakers thrums through my veins as Blake and I sit in a corner booth at The Rusty Nail, the grittiest bar Billings has to offer.
My fingers drum against the sticky table, trying to match the rhythm of the music.
It’s been a few weeks of late-night dates and whispered secrets with Blake, but tonight feels different.
He’s insanely charming, not to mention good-looking. Plus, his family isn’t associated with the club, so it’s a win-win in every aspect.
“Another round?” he asks, already halfway through his beer.
His eyes flicker over me, scanning my graphic tank top and the skull tattoo peeking out from underneath.
“Sure,” I reply, forcing a smile. I can’t ignore the gnawing feeling in my gut. Something’s off tonight.
Blake signals the bartender, a burly guy named Rick, who knows us all too well by now.
Rick doesn’t even give a shit that I’m underage. He knows who my family is and wouldn’t dare try to tell me no.
A couple of beers land in front of us with a clink, foam spilling over the sides.
I take a sip, the cold liquid doing nothing to ease the tension coiling tight in my chest.
Blake leans back, eyes narrowing. “What’s on your mind, Jordyn?”
“I’m just tired,” I lie, tracing circles on the worn wood of the table.
It’s safer than digging into whatever’s simmering in his gaze.
“Really? Because you seem distracted.” His voice drops an octave, a hint of something dark slipping through.
“Just thinking about tomorrow. I’m supposed to go on a ride with the club. It’s gonna be a long one, and I’m still a newbie,” I say, hoping the half-truth will placate him.
