Free Keeping Allie (Breaking Away #3) by Meli Raine

flesh being guided out of here by someone Chase sent for me. I don’t make decisions right now.
    I follow orders.
    “Jackie!” someone shouts as Mark and I turn the corner. 
    “Ignore him,” Mark says, louder than he should.
    “JACKIE!” I hear footsteps running from behind.
    “RUN!” Mark shouts, grabbing my hand and yanking me, hard, toward the bike. He lets go so he can get there first, jumping on it like the bike is a part of him. He starts it with one swift kick from above and I’m running so hard, my feet slapping against the dirt.
    I get to the bike and a hand grabs the black curls poking out from under my helmet.
    “What the fuck are you doing?” snarls a bald dude with tattoos all over. “You listen to me, old lady.”
    This must be Loogie.
    My new stepdad.
    Mark kicks him in the gut, heel first with his boot and Loogie staggers back.
    But he doesn’t fall. He’s a huge guy, a wall of muscle and fat. He looks like a bald teddy bear, chest hair poking out from the collar of his shirt. A look of rage makes him seem like a black bear ready to attack. A snarl completes the resemblance. 
    He comes at us again just as Mark gets the bike in motion. He guns it and we lurch forward, my arms reaching out to knot themselves around Mark’s waist. 
    And I fall off.

Chapter Twelve
    A hissing sound in my ear and a feeling of sudden icy coldness come at the same exact time my head smashes into the silky dirt, my leg caught on some piece of metal on the bike. My helmet is half off as the bike keeps going and I’m dragged, one ankle attached to something, my other leg twisting like a pipe cleaner in a dog’s mouth.
    My eyes are open and I’m staring up through the sliver of the helmet’s visor that’s still on. The sky is bright blue, with little clouds here and there like pieces of cotton God sprinkled to make it a little more beautiful. 
    I close my eyes.
    I am nothing but icy cold now. I smell burning flesh.
    Rough hands grab me under the armpits and shove me on a soft seat. The same hands unhook my ankle. A rope goes around my waist.
    They caught me. I didn’t escape after all. Mom let Frenchie grope her for nothing. They’re tying me to another chair, aren’t they?
    And then: “GO!” screams a voice I know. I open my eyes.
    Chase.
    He’s standing there as Mark peels out from the compound. I look down and see a green and red rope around me. My fingers touch a hook of some kind.
    Chase used a bungee cord to tie me to Mark.
    As I look back I see Loogie deliver a right cross to Chase’s jaw, sending my beloved to the ground like a boxer being felled in a ring. Except there are no rules in this fight. No officials, and no one to jump in to prevent Loogie from killing Chase. 
    And then ten motorcycles come up behind us, like a thundercloud, like a dustbowl storm rolling in and we’re on the edge of the grey rumble of smoke. Mark speeds up. I will my body to stay in place, feeling myself lean to the left. I look down.
    My arm is nothing but raw pink. It’s hamburger with bits of dirty and red spots mixed in. And a sickly yellow.
    I remember in biology class that fat under the skin is yellow. Did I lose that much skin? I drop my arms from around Mark’s waist. No matter how hard I try, I can’t lean forward any more.
    A rough hand grabs mine and shoves it in Mark’s waist band, right under Chase’s belt buckle. I really don’t want to touch anyone’s crotch right now, so I snatch my hand back. It turns out I have a tiny shred of will left in me after all. 
    “Do whatever you have to do to hang on, Allie. Anything.”
    I am so tired.
    So tired.
    My ears explode. A crack so loud it’s like someone shoved a toothpick and popped my eardrum splits the air. I look back.
    There’s a man on a motorcycle behind us, wearing the Mephists insignia. And he’s pointing a gun at us.
    Mark speeds up, but we’re already flying. The landscape is a blur. I start to feel seasick, like I’ll puke. Worst case,