All Chapters of RIDING WITH THE BEAST : Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

Chapter 11: "You run from me," he says, "I chase." His breath is warm on my mouth. The Harley's metal is cold through the torn dress. And his body's so close I can feel the heat coming off him, feel his chest move when he breathes. "Let me go," I say. "Say it like you mean it." "Let me go, Kael." And he does. Just like that. Steps back. Both hands up. Two feet of wet gravel between us. And I hate it. That's the thing I'll never admit out loud. I hate that he let go, because for one second there — one stupid, insane second — I wanted him not to. "There," he says. "That's me not laying a hand on you. That's me keeping my word." "You just slammed me into a bike." "I put my hand on yours because you were about to steal my bike. The bike part I'll apologize for. The rest of it —" He shrugs. "You were running." "I wasn't running." "Elara. You were standing in my lot at six in the morning with a dead phone and a picture of your mama in your bag, about to steal a m

Chapter 13: I know that plate. Three states over. Dark blue sedan, the one Marcus keeps at the lake house for "business associates." He never drives it. He sends people in it. "Kael—" "I see it." He's already moving. Not toward the car. Sideways, into the shadow of the hardware store's awning, and he's pulling me with him by the elbow and his hand's not rough, just fast, and he tucks me behind him against the wall. "Don't move," he says. "It's his." "I know it's his." "He keeps it at the—" "Elara. Don't move." The car rolls past. Slow. Slower than before. There's a man driving and he's not looking at the road. He's looking at the buildings. Left, right, left, right, slow and patient like a man reading a book. He's got sunglasses on even though it's gray out, and a hat, and a jacket that's the color of nothing. He passes us. And then he stops. Not a hard stop. Just the brake lights coming on, soft, and the car sitting ther

Chapter 15: "How much did you hear," he says. I could lie. I'm good at lying. Two years in that house made me fluent. "Fifty mil," I say. He doesn't move. "Wire the fifty mil," I say. "Not the first account, the one on the paper. Tonight after close. Don't put my name on it." I set my glass down on the bar. "That's how much I heard." Kael's jaw works once. Then he says, "You went through the back hall." "Yeah." "To listen at a door." "Yeah." "That's not —" He stops himself. Starts again. "That's not how this works. In this club, in this town, when a man takes a call in the back, that's his call." "You wired fifty million dollars." "Elara—" "You wired fifty million dollars while I sat on a stool and thought you were a guy who owned a bar." My voice is going up and I can't stop it. "You're not a biker. You're not a guy who owns dirt. You're — what are you? What are you?" He's quiet for a second. "I'm the guy who owns the ground your husband's standing o

Chapter 17: I wake up with his arm around me. For one second — one stupid, sleepy second — I don't remember anything. I'm warm and I'm safe and there's a heavy arm across my waist and breath in my hair, and it's the best I've felt since I can remember. Then I remember everything. I open my eyes. Gray light. Rain on the window. Kael's chest against my back, bare, warm, rising and falling slow. Both of us still dressed. That's the first thing I notice. My t-shirt's still on. His jeans are still on. He's got one arm under my head and one across my waist and there's a blanket over both of us that wasn't there when we started. I lie very still. And then it comes back to me. All of it. His mouth. His hands. The way he picked me up off the floor. The way he laid me down. And then the way he stopped. "Not like this," he said. Right against my shoulder. And then he rolled off me and lay on his back staring at the ceiling with his chest heaving, and I said what's wrong, an

Chapter 19: The knock comes again. Harder. "Kael. It's Ellis." Kael's already up. He crosses the bar in four strides and opens the door and the sheriff comes in with rain on his hat and a piece of paper in his hand and he doesn't look happy. "Hearing's been moved," he says. "This afternoon. One o'clock." Miss Okonkwo takes the paper before Kael can. Reads it fast, her mouth getting thinner with every line. "They're calling it an emergency hearing. The Sterling lawyer filed a motion for immediate protective custody. Says the wife is in danger and the delay is harmful." She looks up. "This is a judge I don't know. Judge Harmon. From the county seat." "Who's he?" Kael says. "He's new. Appointed eight months ago." Miss Okonkwo folds the paper. "He's got no history with the Sterlings. That's good. It's also bad. No history means no favors, but no fear either. He might be honest. He might not know what he's walking into." "Or he might be bought," Kael says. "Or he migh