Burning Ember (61 page)

Random events only make sense in the mists of chaos.

EMBER

I’d thought it more than once, but it was never truer than it is now.

I wish I’d never come here. I wish I’d never taken the help Lily offered. I wish I’d never seen his face. I wish I’d run when he’d given me the chance to.

Because then I wouldn’t have to live with this torment, the knowledge and memory of what a taste of a life with
him
could have been like, and how he had the ability to melt me with a kiss, burn me with a touch, and bring my body to life with his.

Then I wouldn’t have to experience this kind of pain. Not only the blinding pain shooting up my body from the wound on my side, but the ache of my heart curling in on itself. Withering and fading.

Was it all an act?
When those words fell from his lips, it felt like he’d reached into my chest and squeezed my heart, stopped it from beating.

After everything I’d told him, showed him, and after everything that we shared, he thought I could be a whore and a snitch for another club. That I was acting when I let down my guard and gave myself to him. When I told him about the hell I went through with Warner, about Will and having to drop out of school, and how my mother left Sunny and me.

God . . .

I grieved with him when he showed me the wreckage of his past. I comforted him when he told me about his dreams of a family and being a father. I’d cried for the precious baby he lost.

Did he even stop to consider that I never once asked him anything about the club besides how long he’d been a member and why he joined? Or how the more I was with him, the less I was at the clubhouse. Which meant I wasn’t there overhearing every tidbit the members conversed about when they thought no one was listening. Why would I want to be anywhere but at the clubhouse if getting information on them was my goal?

It wasn’t until Smoke explained why he’d come into his room, that I saw Mav’s doubts waning. But the damage was done. My faith lost. He didn’t trust me, and that hurt more than anything else.

Because I trusted him.

I’d given him a second chance when he didn’t deserve one. I had faith he’d change when I didn’t have any reason to. I believed he could be a better man even though he’d only shown me his worst.

So I have only myself to blame.

I mean, I’d learned this lesson already, hadn’t I? That a man with two faces isn’t one I can trust. That putting myself in their path invariably ends with my blood being split, and running for my life.

Well if I hadn’t then, I definitely have learned it now as I wince and whimper with each movement. Failing miserably to keep my blood inside my body where it belongs, and brace with every step for the consistent prickly sting that shoots through my foot, courtesy of the cut I received from a broken beer bottle in the field behind the clubhouse.

Luckily, I was able to scale the club’s fence unscathed. Otherwise, I’m not sure I could push myself to go on.

For the moment, I’m safely alone on the street. Although my pulse has yet to find its natural rhythm. Partly because I’ve attempted to flag down two cars, and neither would stop, and a mere ten seconds ago a motorcycle roared to life. The throaty growl sent my heart galloping again.

With each second, I grow more desperate. I need to get away from here before Mav or Taz have a chance to hurt me more than they already have.

So this time when car headlights shine on the blacktop, I move to the left into the car’s lane.

I can’t afford to let this ride pass me by, which means I can’t afford to take no for an answer.

Biting my lip against the pain in my side, I wipe my hand on my shirt where it’s not drenched in blood and then stick my thumb out.

The car slows. Its headlights are a good width apart, which makes me hopeful it’s an older person. When it comes to a complete stop in front of me, I hold my arm over my forehead and ward off the bright lights in my eyes as I strain to see who’s inside the vehicle.

Not able to, I study the license plate and the model. Regular New Mexico plate. A Chevy. Maybe a couple of years old. I hear the window descending and walk to the side of the car. It’s a light gray, clean, and has four doors. Cautiously I bend to inspect the driver.

“You want to tell me why you’re barefoot and walking the streets?”

The flat voice and arrogant face worm their way through my blood like a shot of acid. Turning away, I stare down the street that leads to the clubhouse, my fingers curling into to fists. For a split second, I consider taking off toward the roar of the motorcycle I hear growing closer. But I wouldn’t get far with my side as it is, even if I could somehow able to ignore the cut in my foot.

Davis exits his car and circles around the front. He leans back against the front panel above the wheel and crosses his arms and legs. He must be off duty because he’s sporting dark jeans and a maroon NM State University T-shirt. “It’s been two weeks. So what do you have for me?”

“Nothing. They don’t talk about club business when I’m around.”

“I see.” He studies me and his eyes harden. His jaw muscle pops. “You know, hitchhiking and prostitution are illegal in this state, Ms. Pierce.” He pauses. “Unless you have something for me, I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to put your hands on the hood.”

Giving him what I know about the club would only make Mav’s accusations about me true. And I may be angry and heartbroken, but I don’t want to see him arrested or any of the other HOCs for that matter. Well, except maybe Taz.

I put both hands on the hood.

“You’d rather do time than give them up?”

“If those are my only choices, then yes.”

He pushes me further over the side of the front of the car. Then aggressively searches me. I close my eyes and breathe through the pain cascading through my right side. His hand travels up my leg, his fingers sliding higher than necessary up my thigh. Grinding my teeth, I move away from his touch.

He laughs. “What? You can let dirty bikers pound you all day long, but I touch you and you’re offended?”

When he finds my wound and his hand comes away wet and bloody, he shakes his head and smiles. “Guess they got sick of you already, huh? Or did they catch you trying to steal from them?”

“Go to hell.”

He leans forward to look at my face. “Which one of them shot you?”

“Why, so you can arrest them?”

“Maybe.”

“Then, no. No one shot me. I did it to myself.”

“Jesus,” he spits out. “What the fuck do they shove into you sluts? Golden-dipped cocks? Why the fuck do you care if I arrest them if they tried to kill you?”

At my silence, he wrenches my arms back. I gasp and battle the tears burning behind my eyes, as this position sends sharp pains zipping up my torso and down my back.

Then I hear the unmistakable sound of metal clinking a second before cuffs are slapped onto my wrists.

An overwhelming sense of helpless and vulnerability nearly has those tears spilling from my eyes.

“You know, I knew you were going to fight me on this. That’s why I figured I’d need a plan B.” He presses me down, turns my head, and holds it forcefully against the warm metal hood. Then he combs my hair away from my neck.

I try to twist to see what he’s doing, but I can’t move. In my peripheral, I catch sight of a needle inches from my neck.

“What are you doing?” I cry out and kick my legs at his, the only part of my body I can really move.

“Hold the fuck still.” I feel a pinch of pain, and I scream as every muscle in my body strains to break free. But his grip on me is unforgiving.

When he withdraws the needle, I lay there shocked as a million questions flood into my mind.
What did he put into my body? Drugs? Or was it some kind of virus?
My stomach rolls when I remember a show I once watched where a guy gave a woman a shot. It paralyzed her body so he could rape her, but she was wide-awake and lived through the horror of the entire thing.

Terror has me kicking and struggling again. “Don’t you dare touch me!”

The rumble of the motorcycle draws closer, and now I hope it’s Mav. I close my eyes and pray it’s him and that he’ll find me in time.

Davis yanks me back and I stumble. “You hear that. Your boyfriend’s coming to finish you off.” The street I looked at a moment ago is hazy. The streetlights and the one light coming toward me is fuzzy.

Dread circles the deepest part of my belly. If it’s Mav, he won’t make it to me in time.

My eyelids begin to feel weird, almost heavy. I blink a couple of times.

“I’m not going to let him kill you. Not when you’re worth more alive.”

He shoves me sideways and I nearly fall to my knees. Tripping, I’m forced to the backdoor of the car, the muscles in my legs suddenly not under my control.

Davis shoves me into the backseat of his car. As my vision fades in and out, he pushes me to lay down on the leather upholstery.

“You know there’s something I never get about you biker chicks. Those assholes treat you like garbage, and you’re still loyal as fuck to them.” Davis’ palm slides up my leg. He squeezes the back of my thigh. “Maybe you don’t realize that a good man like me knows how to fuck you dirty too.” Then his fingers skate over my panties. He mutters, “If I had more time right now, I’d show you.”

“If . . . if you rape me . . . he’ll kill you,” I mumble and speak past my numb lips.

“Who
Maverick
?” he snarls the name. “Because that biker-trash father of yours doesn’t care if he gets you back dead or alive. He could give two shits if I had my fill of you before I handed you over to him.”

Try as I might, I lose the battle to keep my eyes open.

“You should consider yourself lucky I don’t do business with men like him.” With that his hand vanishes from my between my thighs. My feet are pushed closer to my body. Then the door slams and a few seconds later, the seat under me begins to vibrate.

MAVERICK

I’m kicked awake. A knot on my shin is inevitable. Jerking up and sitting, I glare at Dozer standing over me. “Jesus Christ! What the fuck’s wrong with you?” Then I see how much sun fills the room. My voice thick with sleep, I ask, “What time is it?”

“Ten-thirty. And you deserved that and more so stop bitchin’. What time did you call it quits this morning?”

Shit. I’ve slept longer than I wanted to. Also, not long enough. Maybe an hour and a half. I pause rubbing my hands over my face and look up. “Nine. Looked everywhere. Couldn’t find her. Did she show up at Beth’s after we spoke?”

He shakes his head. “No. I woulda called.”

Getting to my feet, I grab my cut from the arm of the couch and pull it on. Snatch my keys from the table.

“But I called Whiz this mornin’ because Bethany thought it would be a good idea if we called all the bus stations, maybe have them talk to the drivers, see if anyone’s seen her.” His frown has my blood turning cold.

“What?”

“Couple things . . . Taz had Whiz put a tracker on that phone you gave her.” At my optimistic expression, he holds up his hand. “Don’t get too excited, the signal says the phone’s here.”

“Then she didn’t take it with her. I figured. She ran out fast and wasn’t even wearing shoes. But why mention it?”

“Just thought you ought to know.” He shrugs.

“Whiz also did some diggin’ on that Warner McTearney guy you had him lookin’ into. Guess who’s been tryin’ to find him?”

“Who?”

“The Greenbacks. At least Bones has been hacking into everything—the guy’s employment records, phone records, credit cards, bank accounts, and his father’s information too. Whiz worked his magic through some back channels and found the GBs actually have a price tag of thirty large on Warner’s head. Fifty on Ember’s. Dead or alive. Any idea on why they’d want her dead?”

“She’s Pappy’s daughter.”

At Dozer’s shocked expression, I explain everything. The meeting we had where Whiz and Taz told me about Ember’s parentage and what happened last night in my room. Afterward, I say, “I know how it looks. But it is what it is. Smoke didn’t know who she was until last night.”

“You believe him?”

“Yeah, but I believe her more. It just took me a minute to wrap my head around how it was possible. I mean, what the fuck are the odds? By the time I understood that it was all one big fucked up twist of fate, it was too late. Taz had fuckin’ lost it. Aimed a gun at her, and when the shot went off, she took off.”

“She was hit. I saw the blood.”

“Yeah.” I rub my hand over my head. “I don’t know how bad either. It’s been drivin’ me crazy all night. What if she’s out there in some alley bleedin’ out? I checked at all the hospitals, but it wouldn’t hurt to go check them again.”

My phone begins to vibrate and ring. Holding my breath, I pull it from my pocket. When I see Whiz’s number, I sigh and answer, “Yeah.”

“You talk to Dozer?”

“Just now.”

“Good. So this Warner guy received two calls from a 505 number two weeks ago and I thought that maybe it would be worth looking into. The number’s a disposable. So nothin’ useful there. But it got me thinkin’. If someone here knows about the cash bein’ offered for your girl, they’d be lookin’ to get a hold of her. I tracked every IP address that emailed Bones inquiring about collectin’ on the reward money. Guess who one of the IP address belongs to?”