I don’t know when he had pulled up, but another biker was there, talking over his rumbling Harley. “He said get your asses out of here. Now. They’re comin’.”
Everyone was rushing, dragging me toward the truck. I asked, “Who’s on their way?” When no one answered, just kept hustling, covering their tracks, I figured it out. I begged, “Wait! Let me see her! I need to tell her I’m sorry!” But no one bothered to oblige.
I was shoved into the truck, and we raced away.
CHAPTER TWO
“Let me out!” I screamed, banging on the inside of the barn doors, but no one would release me. It had been days. Every now and then, I would hear bikes coming and going. Food and water were delivered, but I had the feeling they were merely keeping me alive until they made a decision on what to do with me.
“Is she okay?” Not knowing anything about Delilah’s well-being was making me erratic and edgy – that along with my guilt for the part my personalities played. Not that anyone cared. Still, no one answered. I rattled the doors like a madman. “Just fucking tell me if she’s okay, goddamnit!”
Red finally replied, “Jesus, Kenny! It’s fucking hot as balls out here. Can you please shut the fuck up?”
Sweat dripped from my chin. Georgia’s heat was getting brutal. “You’re hot? I’m fucking melting in here! But all I want to know is if she is fucking okay!”
“Damn, you’re a pain in the ass. V is by her side like glue, if that helps.”
Viola was tough as nails but had a soft spot. She adored Delilah. No matter how I felt about V, there was no denying her loyalty. I was finally able to take a deep breath of relief. “It actually does. Thank you.” After a pause, I asked, “Do you think—”
“No. I don’t. You can’t see JB, so save your breath.”
For obvious reasons, his answer didn’t shock me in the slightest. “Red, think I might be able to at least get some fresh air.”
“Red?” the biker laughed.
“I had to get creative. You haven’t exactly formally introduced yourself to me.”
He chuckled again, but it died out as if realizing there was no humor in my situation. “Kid, I don’t know what happened to you, but you’re in a hell of a mess.”
“That’s the thing.” I leaned my forehead to the warm wood door. “I don’t know what happened either.” Desperate for any bit of hope I could find, I asked, “Does she know where I am?” When his silence was my only answer, I tried, “Come on, Red. Throw me a bone, even if you think I don’t deserve it. That girl… she’s my world. I swear it, dude. I don’t know exactly what I did, but I can assure you, no one is suffering over it more than me and her. No one.”
As if he somehow knew firsthand information that made my statement true, he exhaled. “No. She don’t know where you are.”
I felt pain swim across my chest. I knew she would be worried about me. She couldn’t help but care. It was her angelic way when it came to me. Even after Viola had yelled at me the other day, for what I had done, Delilah showed signs of forgiveness and empathy. “Is she looking for me?”
“Not exactly.”
I laid my cheek on the door as my heart pounded. “She will worry. I mean it. Just tell her I’m okay. Lie. Anything to save her worry. I don’t deserve her love, but it’s there. Promise.”
Such remorse echoed in his voice and words. “I know, kid. She has a heart of gold. Diesel will be making a decision soon.” I heard his lighter flick a flame. After a drag of his smoke, he finally said, “Name is Scorch, by the way.”
Sweat dripped into my already watering eyes. “That road name making fun of your hair?”
“I wish.” His voice lowered. “No. It’s how the club found me. Scorched.”
Scorch and I didn’t speak any more that day. Not even when he slipped me some more food and water. I didn’t talk to anyone until Diesel opened the barn doors late that night. Standing at the opened doors, I squinted at the bike headlights. When my eyes cleared, I jolted.
Diesel had a gun pointed right at my forehead.
My breath caught in my throat, but, slowly, I raised my hands.
He lowered the gun and growled, “Walk and talk time, asshole.”
Walking through the field felt liberating. Fresh air hit my sweaty face and overworked lungs.
“Kenny, I won’t think twice about shooting you if you don’t stay calm with what I’m about to tell you.”
I nodded because I knew the man well enough to know killing me for Delilah was something he was most capable of.
“Art thinks he saw a few of your ‘personalities’ in Daytona.”
When he didn’t say anything else, I was confused with what he wanted. So, I wondered if we were having a conversation or if I was to stay quiet. “May I speak?”
He looked at me like I was a dipshit. “Why the fuck you think we are having an el conversation-o?”
Diesel reverting to his joking around with broken god-awful Spanish, I actually sighed with relief. The old Diesel was present again. It was comforting. Up to this point, I had been so lost and confused, seeing an old role model was very welcomed. Even though he preferred me dead, it was all I had.
As far as Daytona, Tuck, V, Delilah, and I had spent spring break there earlier that school year. Tuck, preparing for college, talked his dad into letting us go be young and free—with a powerful biker club watching over us.
I told Diesel, “I, uh, blamed my blackouts on the alcohol, but I just don’t know the truth anymore.”
“Thanks for being honest. It helps. I want to kill you.”
Again, I nodded. “I don’t blame you.”
“The girls won’t tell me shit.” He lit a cigarette. “Won’t even let Tucker in.”
I took a sharp inhale. “Those three are the OG Amigos.”
Blowing smoke into the night, he nodded. “For fucking sure.” He stopped walking. “Jesus, Kenny, what happened?”
Not my manliest moment, I burst into tears. “I don’t fucking know. I don’t remember shit. It’s like someone keeps fucking with a light switch in my head. Every time it’s off, I don’t know what I’m doing. Like, not until the switch is back on and someone tells me what I’ve done.”
“Has anyone told you?”
I wiped snot from under my nose. “Only Delilah and your sister.”
His eyes widened for some reason. “They told you?”
“Well, the day all this went down was my first clue of what may be happening to me. After I brought Delilah home because of cramps, so she claimed—”
He huffed. “You don’t believe in Mary Days?”
Blink. Blink. “Huh?”
“Bloody Mary Week.”
I cringed. “Gross. Uh, no, I’m a true believer, it’s just that I don’t remember any of it. Not bringing her home. Nothing. Just, flick of a switch, then I was in her room and she was in the shower.”
His voice lowered. “The motherfucking shower?”
Chills climbed my spine. “Well, yeah. Why?”
His jaw locked as he peered around, almost as if his mind was racing with a thousand scenarios, or at least one very grim one. “Then what happened?”
Being in the middle of an abandoned field, in the middle of the night, with a pissed and deadly biker and no witnesses, could make any man a little nervous. Since I wasn’t quite a man yet, I was practically shitting myself. “Uh, D-Delilah showed me some information on her laptop—the personality stuff—and said all she was reading reminded her of—”
It had only been days since my world had been turned upside down. I was pretty sure it would never be right-side-up again. Comprehending it all, which I wasn’t, was tough enough. Speaking of it all out loud? Debilitating.
Diesel pointed at me.
Swallowing, I nodded. “Yeah. It all reminded her of me. It was V who claimed I did something bad.”
“My sister told you?”
Clearly, she hadn’t told her brother. That got my attention. Up to this point, V had told her br
other everything. They even openly talked about sex. Viola must have had a damn good reason to keep her mouth shut. It was at that very moment I chose to finally listen to Viola. She had always been somewhat of a bitch to me, but I always ignored her, only to learn that her keen sense was on point; I was no good for Delilah. The only way I could show Viola respect—thank her for being so good to Delilah—was to follow her lead and keep my mouth shut. All I told Diesel was, “Delilah doesn’t think it’s possible to hate someone she loves. I just know it, but she should. She should tell someone about what I’ve done. Whatever that may be. She should scream the truth. Diesel, promise me someday you will get her to do just that—open up to you.”
His callused hand wiped down his rugged face as he stared at me with an expression that had him spooked. Finally, he asked, “Would you do the same for Jenny?”
Just like that, another damn blackout arrived. Next thing I knew, I was on the ground, on my back, looking up at three guns pointed at my face. Diesel was sitting on top of me, horror etched into a face that never showed fear.
Heart ripped to shreds, tears dripped down the sides of my face. “The switch.” I was recognizing them now. How could I not? “How bad was I?”
Art and Red’s guns, still pointed, were trembling.
Stunned, Diesel fell back on his butt. I could hear the grass and flowers crunch under his weight. “Jesus. Fucking. Christ.”
Scorch’s voice trembled. “He don’t know who she is?”
“W-Who?” I asked.
Art, refusing to lower his gun, appeared manic. “JB faced that shit alone?”
My eyes slid shut, more tears pouring. I felt sick to my terrified stomach. “Do it. Shoot me.”
Scorch claimed, “Prez, I’d wanna be put down after that.”
Diesel grumbled, “This changes everything.”
I wasn’t brave enough to open my eyes. “W-What did I do? What did I say?”
Heavy breaths echoed into the haunted night. The secret I didn’t even know I was keeping was now spilling from my grasp. And I had no control over where it slipped to. Others were to govern over my tragic fate.
One of my governors, Diesel, finally spoke, “Art, Scorch, consider yourselves sworn to secrecy. This shit stays here.”
“Done.”
“Done.”
After some silence, Diesel’s voice sounded steadied when he told me, “They had your funeral today.”
All air was sucked from my lungs. My eyes drifted open as shock took over. What I saw in the dark sky looming over me was the memory of bikers shoving an overdosed man in the driver’s seat of Delilah’s car. They had let the only family I had left believe I was dead.
No longer were guns in my face. Only regretful expressions lit by Georgia stars glowing on the forsaken field.
Diesel added, “That baby girl thinks you’re dead, and now wants to save your soul. She asked that I give it freedom.”
I didn’t understand what he meant and was in too much shock to care. All I wanted was for my mouth, that wouldn’t open, to scream shoot me!
“She told me, tonight, that you deserve it more than she does.” Diesel exhaled a trembling breath. “Is she right, Kenny?”
After swallowing down a fierce sadness, I quietly said, “No. She deserves that freedom. I deserve the death she thinks I have. Please, make it be true.”
I prayed for him to hear how much I wanted all this to end, but after what felt like many minutes passed, he denied me. “We’re talkin’ about Delilah. Her wish trumps yours.” He stood, telling Art “Get a cage ready. We pull out tomorrow.”
I pled a whisper, “No.”
Still staring at me, Art asked him, “How long of a trip?”
Diesel put his gun away. “Steel Stallions is gaining a Prospect.”
Scorch’s jaw fell. “Ah, shit, here we come, Austin.”
That night I was locked back in the barn. Luckily, Scorch was exhausted with babysitting me and fell asleep. If I was being shipped out against my will, I had someone to say goodbye to first. In the corner of the dilapidated barn, I found some rotten wood and, as quietly as possible, ripped a hole just big enough for me to squeeze through.
Sitting against the barn, the big guy was snoring as I ran through the tall grass across the moonlit field. I wasn’t sure where I was, but Diesel had raced off to the right, so I ran in that direction down the dirt road. Once I got closer to the next road, I recognized my location. I took a left and continued toward the beauty that I didn’t want to let go. I should’ve known Art would be hidden in a shadow on her street before I could reach her house.
Smoking, he stepped out and held up his free hand. He whispered, “Never happening.”
Slamming my palms over my distraught face, I begged through whispers of my own, “Will I ever get to see her again?” Leaving without seeing her one more time was simply too much to ask.
“No.”
“Then let me have this one last moment with her.” I lowered my hands and glared at him. “You, of all people, should know what it’s like to say goodbye to that gorgeous creature made of light and hope.” His hand lowered. “Art, I know you love her. It’s hard not to fall in love with her at first sight, but then, when she speaks—” Art started nodding, looking away as if finding it suddenly hard to swallow. “You will get to see her, possibly touch her, every day that you are in this town. All I’m asking is for you to let me have one last glance. Then… I will be out of your way to have her. Permanently.”
Silently, Art unlocked the door of the impressive house built by John, Tuck’s dad. I was only half-surprised he had a key. After what I had learned the past few days, Diesel was in far deeper with the Ward family than I had known. This being where I lived only a week ago, I moved easily in the dark, not making a sound. Art followed me up the stairs. He didn’t trust me. I didn’t blame him. I wasn’t mad. I was too thankful he was gifting me this goodbye.
Sneaking down the hallway, I stopped at Tucker’s open door. His heavy breathing told me he was sleeping—safe to peek in. I fought tears when I saw a broken picture frame of me and him on his nightstand. On the floor, across his room, was the shattered glass. The wall was damaged where he had thrown it. I’d never seen the pic before but recognized the place I had been with Tucker that day. And I knew who had taken it. Viola.
As could be seen in the photo, Tucker was considerably bigger than me. He was just like his daddy. And Diesel, for that matter. Looming men with a presence that demanded respect, or at least sensible caution.
From my heart, I told my best friend, I will miss you. I looked to the picture of us smiling, Tuck’s arm over my shoulder. Thank you for all the laughs and great times, and for a friendship I was a lucky bastard to have.
I continued down the hallway. My bedroom door was shut. I understood. No part of me wanted to see the emptiness either.
The closer I got to Delilah’s room, the more I could smell her sweet scent, even through the closed door. It wasn’t locked, so Art and I slid inside. We both stopped and held our breath when catching a glance of her closed, swollen eyelids. They were easy to see in the glow by the little lit lamp on her nightstand. She had cried herself to sleep while holding the urn she believed held my ashes.
Art grabbed his chest and backed away, the sight too much to bear. Was it her sadness? Or the fact Delilah was holding the ashes of a stranger. Maybe he was intimately disturbed by her clinging to me. Maybe it was all of the above. With how he paled, maybe he felt guilty over it all.
Me? I stepped forward, wishing I could take away her pain, knowing I was to blame. Tears dripped from my lips as I smiled, thankful to see sleeping V was right by her side.
I didn’t dare touch Delilah with more than my silent love. If she were to wake and see me, I think it would have destroyed the little bit of sanity to which she was clinging. So, in my mind, I whispered, Tell, darlin’. Tell someone what I did so that you can find peace. Peace you deserve, beautiful-hearted girl. I fucking love you so
much. I’m willing to walk away from the light I want nothing more than to run to. I laid my hand over my heart. Right here. Right here, Delilah.
Then I did the hardest thing… I turned, turned and walked away.
On the way out of her room, I saw another urn on her dresser. Art shook his head and pointed to the door.
Outside of the house again, walking toward his parked bike down the street, I asked about it. He explained, “Your mother asked for your ashes.”
“W-What?” Through all this, my mother barely even crossed my mind. When I moved out, I pushed her and her tragic life far from mine.
“Yeah. Delilah didn’t want your mother to have you. That’s the freedom Diesel was talkin’ about.”
“Delilah didn’t want me to go back to my mom?” I almost lost my footing.
One, I was shocked my mother was sober enough to care, but what was Delilah wanting me free of? How did she know I even needed this freedom?
I rubbed my sternum, trying to settle an ache or pain or lost memory trying to surface—At fifteen, I was walking through the kitchen when my mother’s new boyfriend made a pass at me. He grabbed my ass. “I’ve heard about what you used to do. Don’t worry, I like them older.”
Appalled and clueless to his meaning, I shoved at his chest. “What the fuck are you talking about sick fuck!”
“Hello. You want one, Kenny?”
I blinked and saw that I was walking next to Artist as he pushed his bike to not wake anyone. “Huh? Want what?”
He lifted a brow. “Damn, you do go all brain-foggy at night. I said, do you want a shower.” Eyeing me as if not sure what was going on in my head, he handed me a helmet. “You stink.”
Art, without being asked, was being kind. Whatever those bikers heard me say in that field that night changed their hatred for me. I didn’t have the guts to ask why.
Taking the helmet, I sneered, “That tends to happen when assholes lock you in a hot as hell barn while they cremate your fake body.”
Smirking, he got on his bike. “Technically, you forced that hand with your stunt by driving straight into a tree.”
Bleed Me (Haunted Roads Book 3) Page 2