Striker: A Dark Bully Romance (Redwood Rebels Book 1)

by Rachel Leigh

  As soon as I see what’s inside, the box flies out of my hand and across the room. My stomach twists in tight knots as the tongue slides down the wall, leaving a trail of fresh blood. “Oh my God.” My hand claps over my mouth. With my heart rate at an all-time high and my breathing staggered, I stand up and walk slowly over to the box. Keeping my hand over my mouth to refrain from smelling the fresh meat. The box sits open on the floor with a blood-soaked, folded up piece of paper sticking out of it. Taking a deep breath, I grab the note and begin opening, taking care not to rip it.

  Secrets are for the silent.

  Briarwood at 8pm tomorrow or you will be silenced.

  Tossing the note down, I take a step back with tears welling in my eyes.

  What’s that supposed to mean? They plan to cut out my tongue?

  Swallowing down the bile rising in my throat, I rush over to the door, tearing it open and slamming it behind me when I step into the hallway. With my back pressed against my bedroom door, I slide down slowly until my legs are bent in front of me. I bury my face in my hands on top of my legs and rack my brain for who I can call for help. I can’t call the cops; it’s my word against theirs. I can’t call Axel because he will make everything worse. Wyatt, my best friend, doesn’t have a fighting bone in his body, so he’s no help.

  I’m alone in this.

  It’s me against them, and there isn’t a damn thing I can do about it.

  It’s Halloween night, and I should be hanging out with friends, pulling innocent pranks and having fun. Instead, I’m here, with this eerie weight on my shoulders and a sickness in the pit of my stomach. Shifting my car into park right in front of Briarwood, I look around for the guys’ cars, but it appears I’m the only one here. This is just fucking great. Telling me to come here was probably some sort of sick joke.

  Noticing the flicker of flashlights on the upper level, I assume they’re inside. At least someone is inside. It’s quite possibly a psychopath and that almost sounds more inviting.

  Startling myself by the shutting of my own car door, by my own hands, the darkness looms. Everything about the last twenty-four hours has me on edge. I slept with one eye open last night, meaning I didn’t sleep at all. After convincing myself that I do, in fact, have the upper hand, I planned on walking into this place full of demands, but now that I’m here, I’m suddenly feeling weak and intimidated, and I haven’t even laid eyes on them yet.

  Go in, tell them that you will keep your mouth shut in return for them going on with their lives. It’s not that hard. All they care about is my silence—well, they have it.

  An uneasy feeling washes over me as I take steps onto the broken concrete that lead to steps made of more broken concrete. Briarwood sits on one hundred acres of desert land just outside of Redwood. In the early 1900’s, the building was used for an asylum, and rumor has it they tortured the patients inside. Screams could be heard even outside of the property. One girl my age escaped and almost made it into town when she was hit by a car and killed right before the county line.

  There are stories that the place is haunted by that girl and some of the others. Then again, these are all just stories. I’m more of a ‘see it to believe it’ kind of girl and I have no interest in finding out the truth tonight. I thought the place was set to be condemned a couple years ago—but here it is—still standing.

  Occasionally groups of kids will come here just to try and scare the shit out of themselves. Apparently one girl actually did shit herself when a group of guys were trying to be funny and hid in a closet to scare her. Let’s hope that doesn’t happen to me.

  Walking up to the front of the dilapidated building, my fingers trace over the weathered wooden door, taking note of the carving. It’s the same symbol that was on the box they put in my bed. Coincidence? It has to be. It’s not like they hand carved this door or that box themselves. Talon might have money, but I don’t take these boys to be crafty or symbolic.

  Moving to the shaft of the metal handle, I notice it’s cold. It’s October, but even at night, it’s still eighty degrees outside. “Talon?” I say, in a hushed tone. “Tommy? Anyone?” Damn, I really do not want to go into this place.

  Just as I turn to walk back to my car, taking only a few steps down to get away while I have a chance, the door creaks open, the wooden structure scraping against the floor. I turn around in an instant and see that it’s wide open as I look into the blackness of the house. Not even a flicker of light can be seen inside. Taking slow and steady steps, I holler, a bit louder this time, “Talon? Tommy? Is anyone here?”

  I’m such an idiot for being here, and an even bigger idiot for what I’m about to do. Walking back up the steps I just walked down, I take a deep breath.

  Something is burning.

  It smells like freshly burnt paper, or maybe it’s leaves. A fire in these temperatures, along with the drought, cannot be a good thing. Swallowing hard, I step into the entryway. “Talon?” I try once more. “Will someone please fucking answer me.” My voice raises a few octaves, agitation and nerves getting the best of me. “Alright you dumbasses, you have one minute to show your faces or I am gone and I’ll tell everyone your—”

  Strong, calloused fingers wrap tightly around my wrist. Pulling me farther into the house, while the door slams shut behind me. Goosebumps cascade down my arms. “Who’s there?” I attempt to jerk away. All I can hear is my heavy breathing and the deep breathes of the person restraining my body.

  “Shh,” he whispers, his breath warm and heavy on my neck.

  Reaching my free hand out, I slap it around in the air, hoping to catch someone or something. I can’t see a damn thing. “Talon, is that you?”

  “Would you shut the fuck up,” he grits through his teeth. Pulling my back to his chest, he slaps a hand over my mouth while his other arm wraps around me.

  Impulsively, I bend my head down, biting into the meat of his thumb. The taste of sweat—salt, hitting my tongue.

  “You bitch!” he screeches, spinning me around and bringing my hands behind my back.

  “Show me your face,” I demand.

  “Would you shut your damn mouth for two seconds.” I can hear his jaw tick as he lifts me up from behind and carries me, step by step, holding me tightly, until I’m faced with a broken window that looks out in the front yard.

  Headlights shine in the driveway, right next to my car. “Is that—”

  “Sheriff. It sure as hell is,” he says. After hearing him speak calmer, I’m assured that it is Talon who is holding me like I’m his own special prisoner.

  “Do you think he knows?”

  His hand clamps over my mouth as his other arm continues to squeeze my body against his. “I said shut the fuck up.”

  With my heart hammering in my chest, I remain still. Watching as the sheriff walks around my car with a flashlight, looking inside each window, as if he’s expecting to find something—or someone.

  Floorboards creak above us, and instinctively, I try to look up, but Talon’s hold on me forces too much resistance. It has to be the other guys. They’re who I saw in the window. They knew I was here the entire time and watched me in the front yard from the window. Instead of just coming down, they had to instill a little more fear in me first. Bravo to them, they did it. I should have never come here. I should have just gone to the police. What the hell was I thinking?

  My heart rate picks up when the sheriff begins shining his flashlight in our direction. Talon takes a couple of steps back as the light beam hits my face. I contemplate trying to free myself, running out to the sheriff and telling him everything, but I can’t squirm out of his arms.

  His raspy breath hits the fold of my neck. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll just stand here and be quiet like a good little girl.” His firm grasp tightens around me with my arms still behind my back. Bony fingers hit the skin of my waist while the other is still shielding my mouth from saying a word.

  Picking me up again, he continues to walk backwards,
until the only thing I can see out the window is a small flicker of light that resembles a firefly. Slowly fading into the distance, it’s gone. The sheriff is likely still there, but his presence diminishes from my vision as Talon spins me around to face him. “You are going to walk up these stairs, slowly and quietly. If you say a single word, I’ll be forced to use this.” He holds up a ring of duct tape.

  “This has to be some sort of Halloween joke. Come on, Talon. You aren’t seriously—” I stop when he begins pulling the gray tape off of the roll. He tears a long piece off and the sound of the tape ripping makes my body jolt.

  “Walk.” His voice is demanding and full of warning.

  Swallowing down the lump in my throat, I take a deep breath and begin walking up the wooden staircase. It’s so dark. I have no idea what exactly I’m walking up to. For all I know, there could be holes in these stairs and one wrong step could send me flying into a cave.

  Walking directly behind me, Talon places both hands on either side of my waist, guiding my steps and sending waves of chills through my entire body. If I were to stop abruptly, his face would plant right into my ass. The closer I get to the top, the more I notice that burning smell again. “What’s up here?” I mutter under my breath.

  He doesn’t respond. Instead, he turns my body when we reach the top of the stairs, pointing me to the left, in the direction of a bedroom that shows a glint of light coming from a lantern.

  A thick black sheet hangs over the only window in the room, and other than the lantern in the center, it’s completely empty. Colorful graffiti is written all over the four walls. So much so, that I can’t tell what color of paint is beneath them.

  “What is this place, and why am I here?” I ask, looking all around at the artwork. It’s apparent that it’s the job of many because it’s all scattered and each piece is different.

  “You talk too much. That’s why you’re here.”

  A small breeze hits my bare legs, carrying that smell into the room. Turning around to face the door, I notice a room across from us with the windows wide open, and there they are: Tommy, Lars, and Zed. All three standing there, with their arms crossed over their chests, glaring at me.

  “Come on in, boys.” Talon waves his hand through the air. When they join us, Talon tosses something in the air to Lars who catches it with his eyes still pinned on me.

  Once he spins it around and begins pressing his fingers into it, the sparkle of purple glitter catches my eye. “Hey, that’s my phone.” I jump toward him, but Zed’s arms wrap around me.

  “Calm down, Little Thorn.” He sweeps his fingers over my neck, moving any stray strands behind my ear. “I heard you were a feisty little thing. Maybe you can show me just how feisty you can get.” His hushed tone alarms every cell in my body.

  I look over to Talon, who is watching us intently. Instead of focusing on whatever Lars is doing on my phone, his gaze is secured on Zed’s fingers that are creeping underneath my hoodie, grazing against the skin covering my rib cage. Fear washes over me, more intensely than the fear of being in this house with these guys—a fear of what they plan to do with me. They could do whatever they wanted, and no one would ever know. They could rape me, kill me, and bury me on this property, and I’d just be deemed a missing person forever.

  Lars tosses the phone back to Talon. “It’s done,” he says with the phone midair. Talon swings around just in time to catch it.

  “What’s done?” I raise my voice. “Will someone please tell me what the hell is going on?”

  Talon thumbs through my phone. When he hits the button on the side to shut it off, I assume he’s going to hand it back to me, but instead, he sticks it in the back pocket of his black pants. “Go check the fire,” he says, looking at Tommy, who nods in agreement.

  Lars and Zed continue to stand around. “Go with him, dumbasses, and close the door on your way out,” he snaps.

  It’s obvious who the puppet master is in the group.

  My entire body jumps when the door slams shut. “Talon, I swear, I’m not planning on telling anyone what I heard. You have my word. Now, can I just go?”

  “Marni. Marni. Marni.” He circles around me. “You really fucked yourself when you decided to be a nosey little shit.” His index finger trails across my cheek, over my nose, and around my head. Jerking my ponytail, he pulls the black scrunchie out, and my hair falls carelessly around my face. My body tenses up, and I close my eyes. “What am I going to do with you?” he tsks.

  “I told you—”

  “Shut up,” he shouts, sending my brows to my forehead and the contents of my stomach into my throat. “You don’t get to tell me anything. You’re gonna listen to me.” He takes my chin between his thumb and index finger, gripping it tightly. “You might think you have something on all of us, but that’s not the case. Do you understand me?”

  Nodding, I swallow hard.

  “Good, because you don’t know a damn thing. But, we do. We know about your secret relationship with Josh Moran.”

  “Josh Moran? As in Josh Moran who’s obsessed with me? I barely even know the guy.” I really don’t know him well. I’m aware that he’s had a crush on me for the last couple of years. Even asked me out a few times, but I turned him down—in a not-so-nice way.

  A couple of months ago, he began acting very odd. Showing up at my house unannounced. I even caught him in my yard in the middle of the night once. Dad was out of town and I was feeling very uneasy about the whole situation, so I went and stayed in LA for a couple of weeks. Josh is creepy, and he’s a jerk who treats women like he is a gift to them, even if we aren’t interested in the package.

  Tucking my hair behind my ears, his hands drop to mine. Taking both of my hands in his, he begins tracing his index finger over my palm. Following each line engraved in my hand like it’s some sort of puzzle. “Yep, that’s him.” His nail begins digging into my skin as he drags it on the surface of my vein.

  Shrieking at the pain, I jerk away. This time, he lets me. I run my hand over my wrist and notice the red-line he left. Talon reaches in his back pocket and pulls out my phone then slams it into my chest. “What did you guys do to my phone?”

  “Go ahead, look at your text messages.” He walks over to the window. No longer worried that I might make an escape or scream at the top of my lungs.

  Something tells me, he has me right where he wants me.

  Something tells me that I’m stuck here, and there is nothing I can do about it.

  I unlock my phone and pull up my text messages. “I didn’t send these,” I say, when I notice that there are messages from Josh. I click on the number and don’t recognize it. “Whose number is this?”

  “I thought you said that you barely knew him. Funny how your phone says otherwise.”

  “It’s Josh. He’s the one who you were talking about in the room when you said you disposed of the body. You killed Josh Moran.” My stomach drops. Suddenly feeling lightheaded, I fall to my knees and bury my face in my hands, before looking up at him. “And you’re trying to set me up.”

  3

  “Walk,” Talon orders, as he shuts the door behind us while shining a flashlight toward the stairs.

  My eyes are fixated on the blazing fire that can be seen through the open window of the room across from us. What are they burning? Is it Josh? Is this how they plan to get rid of his body? Bile rises in my throat at the thought. Suddenly feeling sick, I stop walking.

  “I said walk!” he barks, nudging me from behind.

  “I can’t. I need to know what is going on. You guys are scaring me, Talon,” I admit. As much as I know I need to stay strong and not let them see the fear that is soaked into my pores, at this point, I’ll gladly lay it all out there just to get the hell out of here.

  Talon gives me another nudge, and I begin walking again.

  Baby steps lead me down the staircase while I take care not to touch the rickety, wooden rail on my way down. The last thing I need is my fingerprints all over this pl
ace. If they are trying to set me up, as I suspect they are, I need to cover my tracks better.

  “Why did you kill him?” I ask in a hushed tone. “I know he was a creeper, but to take his life—why?”

  “Josh wasn’t just an ass; he was a monster. He deserved what happened to him, even if it was an accident.”

  “If it was an accident then I’m sure the cops will understand. Can’t you just explain whatever happened?”

  He snaps at me, “Stop talking.”

  We reach the bottom, and Talon shines the light down a long and narrow hallway. Old broken floorboards rattle beneath us. The walls are covered in everything except fresh paint. There is more graffiti, dirty handprints, and some weird occult symbols in the middle. A feeling of dread washes over me, chills spread like tiny spiders down my spine, and a cool breeze is felt on the right side of my body as I walk past it. “What is this place?” I mutter under my breath.

  Not expecting him to answer, he surprises me when he does. “It’s a sanctuary for secrets. Nothing between the walls of this building leaves. Empty souls, dark desires, last wishes. They are stuck in this building for eternity.”

  “Sounds creepy,” I say, folding my arms over my chest and hugging myself tightly.

  Reaching a door at the back of the house, Talon shines his light and tilts his head with a scowl, directing me out. With the sleeve of my sweatshirt wrapped around my hand, I push the metal handle to the screen door, opening it up. The smell of the fire strengthens in the dry still night.

  All three guys are standing around a large barrel in the middle of the backyard. At least, I think it’s a yard. It’s more of a wide-open space that looks like it hasn’t had landscaping attention in ages. The only thing back here is an old shed off to the side, a rather large pole barn, and the barrel full of blazing flames that stretch at least three feet over the guys’ heads.

  “Let’s get this over with. I’m ready to get drunk and get laid,” Lars grumbles with agitation in his voice.