Hell's Angel: Devil's Backbone (BK 2)

Sticks and Stones

Alison's POV
(bellamysgirl)

"Get in." Colonel Schoonover shoved the barrel of the gun in my side and I rolled my eyes, unlocking Karen's car. Well, it used to be Ben's. But she'd felt bad about using it so she gave me a spare set of keys in case I wanted to use it instead. I never needed them until now. No way was I going to pick pocket Karen's body for the keys.

I unlocked the door and pulled it open, climbing it. I moved over behind the wheel and he slid into the passenger seat, closing the door behind him. "Start the car," he instructed.

"Wow, never would've thought of that," I mocked, under my breath as I started the car. The engine roared to life and suddenly music boomed through the speakers. I paused. I know that song. It's on Chase's CDs, but why would Karen have...oh. It's not Karen's. It is Chase's CD. "Drive. And shut that awful music off," he demanded. He turned off the music as I pulled out of the driveway.

My eyes scanned the space across the small island of grass in the street. Frank's truck was gone. Okay. Stay calm, Alison. He's got a plan. He's got to if he just ditched me with this psycho. We started driving and silence settled in. His gun remained trained on me at all times. "You seem like a smart woman. Tell me something, why'd you even show up at my house? And don't give me some line about a story," he said, sounding annoyed.

I tightened my grip on the wheel. "Because I know who you are. I've known since you shot up my apartment."

It was a lie but it got his attention. I glanced at him a second before settling my eyes on the road. He seemed taken off track but he continued on. "And what? You're here for revenge? Last I checked, you turned up alive after that shooting," he recalled, mocking.

"I came for Karen, you moron," I spat.

"Right," he laughed. "You really expect me to believe that?"

No. But you're just dumb enough to make it work. My eyes scanned the trees. Nothing. I shifted my focus forward. I can't really act like I know anything. If I do, it'll tip him off. "Pull over, here's good," he decided, after a couple more minutes of driving. My insides started to knot. "I said, pull over."

I turned to glare at him just as I saw it. A big grey pickup truck barreling toward the car. I ducked left. Then the truck slammed into the passenger side of the car, cratering it in. The force knocked me forward, my forehead slamming into the steering wheel. I gasped in a breath as my eyes shot open. My whole body ached. I turned my head a little. Schoonover was gone. He wasn't even anywhere near the car as far as I could tell.

Wait a second, I passed out? For how long? My hand brushed something soft on my lap and I glanced down. A wool blanket was draped across my front. What the...? I pushed it off as best as I could and unclipped my seatbelt. Then I had to slow down. My head was swirling, throbbing. Heat was slowly sliding toward my left temple from a little higher up. I was bleeding. But there was nothing I could do about it here. So I pushed on.

Once I got my seatbelt off, I pushed open the door. It swung out and I nearly dropped right out of the car. I grabbed the wheel to hold me in place, pulling something in my right side. I audibly winced. If this was Frank's idea of a good plan, he was sorely mistaken. I gritted my teeth and slowly got my feet out of the car. First the left then the right. Just rip the bandage off already. I slid out, my feet taking all my weight, and I sucked in a sharp breath.

Everything in me burned. My head felt off kilter, dizzying. All my muscles felt like wet noodles. A muffled cry escaped me as I pushed against the car to stand up. Once I finally got all the way standing, I eased myself along the side of the car toward the road. My eyes instantly caught sight of the long smear of blood on the pavement.