Free Open Road by Evelyn Glass

practically begging to be hit.
     
    But on the other hand, every time Alejandro thought of squeezing that trigger, he saw the look of stark terror on Ali's face when she'd seen the black Camaro out on the road. Would she look at him the same way when she found out what he'd done? Would she see him as a man who took action to protect his club and his livelihood, or would she see him as a cold-blooded killer?
     
    ***
     
    Alejandro and Pitbull trailed behind Dobie, forming a triangle on the road. The pickup was stopped just ahead, across the intersection. As planned, it had been disabled by a flat tire, the efficient work of the Bezerkerz. Alejandro could see Crockett checking the other wheels and shaking his head in disgust at the unexpected damage. 
     
    The Bezerkerz had arranged for road crews to slow traffic for exactly ten minutes in either direction. The Padres had to act quickly and with absolute precision. There would be no second chance to get this done.
     
    As they edged closer to the stop sign, Alejandro saw movement in the truck's passenger seat. Who the fuck is that? He was supposed to be alone! He hoped that his eyes were deceiving him, but as Crockett rounded the bed of the truck, he caught a clear glimpse through the passenger window of a woman. It was Talia, Crockett's wife. He didn't know her well, but he'd seen her a few times and recognized her. Fuck!
     
    Dobie turned left at the intersection, just as planned, and Alejandro saw his right hand move into his vest to pull out his weapon. Pitbull idled next to Alejandro at the stop sign, about fifty yards back from the truck. His eyes widened as he, too, realized the woman was in the car.
     
    Crack! Crack! The first shots fired in rapid succession. Crockett dropped to the ground behind the truck, motionless.
     
    There was a scream from the inside of the truck, so shrill that the hair on the back of Alejandro's neck stood up. He saw hands rise up and saw them shake, begging.
     
    Dobie pulled up next to the driver's side door and raised his gun.
     
     
     

 
    CHAPTER TWENTY ONE
     
    The image of Crockett's old lady dying in her husband's truck would stay with Alejandro forever. No matter what Crockett had done, the woman was an innocent victim. She didn't deserve to die for his misdeeds. But she'd been in the truck with him, and there was no way around that. The worst part of the whole thing was that she'd taken longer than he had to die.
     
    Her fate was what Ali risked every day being with him. Her life, too, could be cut short for his actions. Other clubs would know she was his Achilles heel, which meant she could be used as a bargaining chip. Forget snobby treatment from Arroyo Flats socialites, this was the real risk of their union. Though it didn't matter, snubbed at the grocery store or shot on the streets--she didn't deserve any of it. He couldn't guarantee her protection.
     
    The Diablos Verdes already knew about Ali: what she looked like, where she lived, what kind of car she drove. He had no idea how long they'd actually been following her or how close they could get to her if they tried. He realized they had likely followed him and Ali on the bike intending for him to see them. It was a statement, one the Padres themselves had used to intimidate members of rival clubs. We're watching you. Any minute, we can bring chaos down on you and everyone you know.
     
    He had to protect her, but if he pushed her away again there would be no turning back, no changing his mind, no third chance. She would not forgive another betrayal. If he decided to give her up, he had to be prepared to walk away forever. The thought of never seeing her again or touching her again made him ache in his bones.
     
    The only way to guarantee her safety was to make sure she married the rich boy. Bobby's father was connected in ways most men only dreamed of. Their name, money, and connections could protect Ali from anything. Honestly, that was the life she deserved, a life