Burning Ember (62 page)

Hope stirs in my veins. My pulse picks up. Before I can guess, he says, “Deputy Dipshit.”

“Davis?”

“Yep, Officer Davis.”

“That motherfucker is dead.”
If he’s laid a hand on her . . .”
Find him, wherever he is right now, and get me that info,” I bark out.

“Already got it. Check your phone, I sent you the location while we were talkin’.

“Track his cell too.”

“It’s in the same location.”

“Fuck, Whiz. You’re a genius.”

“Yeah, you’re welcome,” he says before he hangs up.

The location is in the middle of nowhere, past Belen. A great place to meet if you don’t want anyone to see you doin’ somethin’ illegal.

“Got an idea of who might have her,” I tell Dozer. “Davis. He knows about the price on her head.”

“And he’d do anything to hurt us. Let me wake everyone up. Go chug the hell out of some coffee. You look shit tired. Like if you mount your bike, it’s gonna end up tastin’ gravel.”

“No, I’m goin’ now.”

He slaps his hand on top of my shoulder, squeezes it. “Brother, if he’s meetin’ with Pappy and his boys, you’re gonna need us at your back. United—”

“We live, ride, fall.” I clamp my hand on top of his forearm. “But I’m pretty damn sure I’m in love with her so you’ve got five minutes. Then I’m ridin’ out, with or without you.”

Never turn your back on a man that doesn’t recognize his own demons.

EMBER

A door slamming jolts me awake. Blinking away the heavy sleep from my eyes, I take in my surroundings. I’m in the backseat of a car, and the only sound I hear is the constant hiss of the air conditioner. There’s no running motor, music, or proof that anyone else is in here with me.

The last thing I remember is the sedan stopping in front of me, and then Davis. I also recall him shoving a needle into my neck, but not much else.

Judging by how much sunlight is filtering in through the windows, I’d say it’s been hours since then, if not longer.

My entire body is a mass of pain, the side of my abdomen throbbing and mimicking my pulse. The only part of my body that doesn’t hurt is my left shoulder. However, that’s simply because it’s dead from lack of circulation.

I try to sit up a little to check if Davis is in the front seat. It’s nearly impossible with my hands bound behind me, and I regret the undertaking immediately. A sharp bolt of fiery pain shoots up my side, through my shoulder, and down my back. My muscles string tight, and breathing heavily through my nose, I grind my teeth and suck in air.

The door near my head creaks opens and Davis leans in. “Time to wake up. Your new ride’s arrived.” Grabbing me under my arms, he hauls me unceremoniously out of the backseat, not paying a lick of attention to my suffering while he does so.

As soon as I get to my feet, he’s behind me, forcing me forward. Each step takes herculean effort. My wound screams as if someone is pressing a lit torch to my skin and burning me from the outside in. The lava-like heat radiates outward from my side and flows up my torso. It literally feels like I’m dying. And with the amount of blood covering my clothes and skin, I think maybe I am.

I sway, stumble, hiss, and curl inward when it becomes too much to bear. I can’t breathe. I can’t move another step. I just want to lie down and let the ground swallow me up.

But Davis grants me no mercy and shoves me forward.

Instead of focusing on the excruciating agony flowing through me, I center myself around the only thing that feels remotely good and that’s the warmth of the dirt cushioning my feet. The wound still smarts when I put pressure on it, but the heat also somehow soothes it.

Lifting my head to see where he’s forcing me to go, I stop walking abruptly.

Queasiness rolls around in my stomach. Sweat breaks out on my palms and forehead.

Yes, I’m standing in the middle of the desert during a heat wave, but my reaction has nothing to do with the high temperature, and everything to do with the pristine and shiny new Escalade parked twenty feet in front of me. Its windows so darkly tinted I can’t see inside.

I don’t need to see him to know who it is though. The lavishness and the color of the vehicle give him away.

So when the driver’s door opens and Warner steps out, I’m on the verge of throwing up, but not surprised in the least. He’s everything I remember—tall, handsome, physically perfect in every way, and just as intimidating as the day I left him.

He’s wearing a beige suit, no tie, and a stark white shirt. The sun glints off his designer glasses before he removes them, and hangs them at the opening in his collar. With no barrier between his face and mine, I’m hit with what spun my head the first day we met, ice blue eyes, a flawless complexion, and sculpted features.

More beauty than any one person should possess.

And as simple as that, I relive in flashes how his actions changed our story from budding romance to a cautionary tale. One I didn’t know if I’d survive.

I try to twist away, but Davis won’t let me. So I appeal to the cop in him, “Please, don’t do this. You don’t understand what kind of man he is. The minute you leave, he’ll hurt me.”

As Warner gets closer, the side of his mouth lifts and his dimple pops. “There she is,” he coos. “My little phoenix, risen from the ashes.” Then his eyes roam over me, my hair first, then my face, my clothes, and my legs. His smile dims and I can’t help but find pleasure in that.

“Is that her blood?” Warner glares at Davis. “I told you that I didn’t want her harmed.”

“She was already shot when I found her. She won’t say who did it, but I expect it was one of the HOCs.”

“Why didn’t you say anything when we spoke?” Warner inspects me, lifts my shirt, grimaces. His face twists with disgust as he eyes first the nasty bullet wound and then the dirt on my feet.

“Don’t touch me,” I gasp out and tug away from him. Every second I fight not to pass out, because I know I can’t afford to lose consciousness right now.

“There wasn’t anything I could do about it. As it is, I’ll have to spend all day cleaning the evidence from the car or burn the thing.” Davis jerks on my cuffed wrists. “Now, do we still have a deal or not?”

Warner pulls an envelope from the inside of his suit coat. “It’s all there. Uncuff her.”

Davis takes hold of the cuffs on my wrists, and I feel them fall away a second later. As a parting gift, after he takes the envelope from Warner, Davis pushes me forward. Suddenly I know what it feels like to be stabbed with a red-hot poker. Pain like I’ve never felt washes over me. I scream and my body bows. A veil of white clouds my vision for a moment before color and then the desert returns.

When I come to, I’m nearly on my knees except Warner’s holding me. He helps me stand. Then picks up some of my bangs using two fingers and moves them from my eyes. I feel a pang in my heart when he does it, because it’s all wrong, and it makes me ache for Mav with every bone in my body.

If only it were Mav holding me right now. Mav’s murmuring in my ear. Mav telling me he’s going to take me away from here for a long while.

But no, those are Warner’s words and his breath making the sour feeling in my stomach build.

Oh, God, what have I done?

I promised Mav I wouldn’t disappear on him like Dana did. But that’s exactly what I’ve done. I have no doubt that he’ll search for me, and try to fix his mistake. But by the time he does me, it’ll probably be too late.

I hear a car door open and slam. Then Davis’ vehicle starts and he drives off, leaving me alone to face Warner’s demons on my own.

“
Jesus, look at you. What did they do to you, Em?” His nose scrunches up as he examines me. He always did have a thing against blood and dirt. I can’t say I’m not pleased that he doesn’t find me desirable right now. That may just be my saving grace.

“Come on. Let me get you cleaned up.” Half-limping and half-hopping, he walks me over to the front of the SUV.

I know what this is. This is the calm before the turbulent storm. Right now there’s not a speck of darkness visible on the surface, but it’s there buzzing under his skin, waiting to make an appearance.

I think about Mav’s darkness and how it was always right there for me to see. Not hidden. And how he’d been fighting it, where Warner had always wanted to explore it further.

Mav didn’t want me afraid of him, and he hated hurting me.

Warner thrives on my fear. Craves seeing my pain.

He’s the real devil in my life.

After opening the passenger door, he pulls a bag from the floor up to the seat. Again, I think about running. I quickly scan the area while his back is turned. And find there’s nothing but sagebrush, treeless mountains, and desert.

He searches through the bag and pulls out a towel. Then a bottle of water and gets it wet. After shutting the door, he moves me to rest my back against the side of the SUV, and gently starts to clean the dirt and blood off me. First my face, then my arms and hands. When he lifts my shirt, he dabs the towel against my skin and works his way from left to right. From the uninjured side toward the finger size whole that’s surrounded by bruised flesh. I wince and flinch away from his touch. But he keeps going and begins to apply more pressure. I’m gasp, whimper, and begin to cry, even go as far as to push his hands away.

“Goddamn it, Em, hold still.” Warner’s nostrils flare, and he closes his eyes. When he blinks them open, the hairs on my neck rise. He swipes the towel closer to the entry wound.

Silent tears cascade down my face, and I dig my nails into the skin of my palms, bite my lip until I taste blood. My throat clogs with tears when I whisper, “Please stop, Warner. It hurts.”

“Why were you hiding from me?”

Any answer I give is only going to fuel the fire so I don’t reply.

His ministrations get rougher. “You’re not going to answer me? Six weeks, Ember. That’s how long I had to go without you. Do you know what that was like for me? How worried I was?” His blue eyes spark with malice. “And then I find out you have some scary ass biker for a father. How come you never told me you were some biker whore’s daughter?”

When I’m silent, he grips my chin and shakes it. “Do you realize because of you, I can’t go home? Go to work. Live a normal life. The Greenbacks are fucking psychos, Em. They’re not going to give up until they find the two of us.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry? Not good enough, baby. Not even my father has been able to get us out of this. So like I said, we’re going away for a while. And I don’t want any shit from you, okay? We’ll come back when we’ve been able to work out some kind of deal with them.”

He stares down at me, and then his darkness recedes for a second. “If you’re really sorry, then show me you are, baby. Apologize. Tell me how much you missed me. Help me see that you’re the same girl I met and fell in love with. And get this”—he fingers my shirt and then tugs on Mav’s HOC emblem that still hangs around my neck—“off your body. It makes you look like white trash. Is that what you are? Some slut who sleeps around like her mother?”

“No.”

He smiles a beautiful smile, one that used to make me smile in return. “No. See that’s a good girl.” He tries to pull the necklace over my head.

I snatch it from his hand and hold on to it for all I’m worth. “No. I won’t take it off.”

His smile slowly fades. His eyes roam over me as his lip starts to curl. The muscles in his neck strain. “Take it off, Em. This is the only warning you’re going to get.”

I shake my head and brace for the consequences of my choice to hold on to Mav, because I think the hope of seeing him, Will, and Sunny again is all I have to live for at this point.

Warner grabs my face, digs his fingers into my cheeks, and slams my head against the window of the Escalade, making me rise to the tips of my toes. “Then wear it. Be a biker whore if that’s what you want to be. But don’t cry like a little bitch when I treat you like one.”

His other hand goes to his belt. He quickly unlatches it then pulls it from his pants. He spins me around and shoves me against the SUV. My face smashes against the glass.

The first hit of the belt lands across my shoulder blades. When I cry, buck, and squirm to break free, he tangles his hand in my hair and uses it to keep me where he wants me. Each time the belt lands somewhere new. My lower back, my ass, across my thighs, and then he starts from the top again and works his way down.

After it ends, before I can sag to my knees, I hear him unzip.

And I am nothing . . . nothing but fire. Fire is all I feel. Flaming through me as tears coat my face and neck, and mix with the sweat coating my skin. Panting, I suck oxygen into my lungs.

The boxers I’m wearing are ripped down my thighs and I know I have little time before he forces himself inside me.

“I slept with one of them last night. He didn’t use a condom.” If Warner’s anything, he’s a clean freak. And if I know him like I think I do, the idea of being inside me where another man has recently been, will repulse him.

Then I hear the rip of foil, and he pulls me back a step only to push me down to my knees. He forces my face into the dirt, so that with each inhale it’s sucked into my nose and mouth. I cough and try to wrestle away, but I have nothing left.