ASHES (Ignite Book 3)

by R. J. Lewis

  “We’re leaving,” Shane said, simply. “Reaper listened, after all.”

  There was a running car waiting for us. Behind the wheel was Logan, looking equally tired. I glanced quickly around us, searching for Reaper. He was nowhere to be seen.

  “Where are we going?” I asked again, stopping to look at Shane as he advanced alone to the car. “I thought it was happening here.”

  He opened the passenger door. “He changed his mind. He’s taking you somewhere safe and more appropriate for the occasion.”

  It took a moment to absorb his words, and then my legs moved. I slid into the backseat and he followed. Andres drove around the compound to where the tall, wooden gates were. I stared out the window, trying to distinguish our surroundings in the darkness. It was all jungle and wooden huts. In the distance, beyond the gate, I saw a group of Reaper’s men filling the back of a truck with what looked like shrubs. They seemed rushed and panicked, barking orders at one another.

  “Did the storm destroy their crops?” I asked.

  “It’s been a shit morning,” Logan answered, grim.

  “The rain’s cleared. They’re assessing the damage, aren’t they?”

  “Yes. Let’s leave it at that.”

  I curled into Shane’s side and closed my eyes as Andres drove endlessly down the same trail we’d taken to get here. Shane wrapped his arm around me, patting me gently, assuring me everything was going to be okay.

  I was scared. I’d spent a lot of time with Reaper, and yet…I still couldn’t get to the bottom of him. I didn’t know what I was diving into. His interest in me was going to erode fast. He’d tire of our small little challenges and I’d wind up alone in a big house, like the trophy wives in our circle. Maybe I’d wind up bitter like them too.

  The car stopped at the end of the trail. We got out and trekked shortly through the jungle before we made it to the clearing. The plane was already running on the dirt strip of road. Logan was already inside. Slightly further away was Reaper, and he was talking to Christy. I stiffened as she moved closer to him, wiping at her eyes.

  “She’s not coming, don’t worry,” Shane said, noticing my body response.

  Good. I didn’t want to have to deal with her glares or snotty jabs. She was crying. I knew why. We stepped out of the keep as I watched her nod at him, looking pitifully dejected.

  Shane stopped to look. “Isn’t it sad?”

  It was, actually.

  She put her hand to her heart as she spoke to Reaper, seeming to raise her voice because the veins in her neck were out. I couldn’t hear a word because the engines were roaring, but the distraught in her body spoke volumes. Reaper listened to her patiently. Then he dipped his head down to her face and spoke in her ear. Whatever he said seemed to calm her down. She nodded at him a few times, and then she stared at a fixed point in the mud as he walked around her and toward the plane. He caught sight of us immediately and nodded once at Shane before stopping by the door, eyes on me. He was waiting.

  “Go,” Shane said, patting me gently on the back.

  My eyes widened as I looked at him. “Aren’t you coming with me?”

  “No. This is a small ceremony. Reaper doesn’t want me there.” I opened my mouth to argue, but he shook his head. “Don’t, Liv. I can’t be around it anyway. I honestly can’t. I hate to let you go to these circumstances. It eats me up alive. I wouldn’t be able to hold back if I saw you walking down an aisle to someone like him.”

  I've never seen Shane look so downtrodden. I wasn’t going to argue with him on this.

  “I’m just scared,” I whispered to him, fighting back the lump in my throat. “I can’t do this alone, Shane.”

  “You can,” he replied, determinedly. “Your whole life you’ve done it all alone. You just never gave yourself the credit. You were going to give Tony hell, remember? You said it over and over right until the end. What’s different about Reaper?”

  I mulled over his words. “He’s…scary.” Scary because I felt things with him.

  “You’re only scared of the unknown. Peel back this monster’s layers and get to know him. Then fight like fire, and don’t stop. You’re a survivor. You will find even ground with him and you’ll make it work. Just don’t ever let him hurt you. Never give him that power.”

  He gave me one final hug before motioning to the plane. I walked to Reaper, keeping my eyes firm on his, never letting him notice the fear buried in them. Before had been all talk and play.

  The time had finally come.

  He opened the door for me and extended his hand out to help me in.

  “Funny,” I said, wryly. “I didn’t realize I came off as a damsel in distress.”

  His lips tugged up, entertained already by my dry words. “If not now, you will be very soon. I’m a lion, feisty, and I’m tired of waitin’ for my meal.”

  My cool expression remained intact until I climbed into the plane, moving to the back. They’d reinserted the seats, and they were just as grimy looking as the floor. I sat down as Reaper followed, closing the door shut behind him. Logan handed me a headset and I dutifully put them on, keeping my eyes averted from Reaper. My nerves were causing me havoc. I began trying to buckle my belt, but I was shaking and flustered. Interrupting me was Reaper’s large hands. He batted mine away and clicked the belt in place around me. He was so fucking close to me. This plane was too tiny. I looked up at him, fixated on his perfect profile as he tugged the belt tighter. He looked back at me, a cocky expression on his face.

  Jesus, he looked excited.

  “Look at the future Mrs Martinez,” he remarked, his voice so low and aching, it warmed my insides. “Shame I can’t marry you in this shirt.”

  My heart stampeded in my chest as his eyes dragged down my exposed front. I hadn’t bothered with concealing myself. What was the goddamn point anymore?

  He pulled away and climbed to the front of the plane. He put on a headset and took control of the steering. Logan instructed him what to do, surprising me with his precise instructions.

  Maybe he wasn’t completely hopeless after all.

  In no time we were speeding down the runway and lifting off. Shane stood by the strip of road, growing smaller and smaller.

  It was only when I was buried in thought, tuning their words out through the headset, that I recalled what Reaper had said shortly before take off.

  Look at the future Mrs Martinez.

  It occurred to me I didn’t even know my future husband’s real name.

  The ride was over an hour long. Logan began descending over a populated town along a river. He found the shoddiest looking runway strip without even batting an eye, meanwhile, it had looked completely invisible to me from the sky. The runway was backed by a small field and then a gargantuan looking house.

  Logan’s landing was much better the second time with him. He seemed to be far more experienced with this area, not having to check the map every few minutes the closer he had gotten to here.

  “You think Matias will be impressed by my landing?” he asked Reaper once the engine was off.

  “You’re assuming he was watching you.” Reaper responded, skeptical.

  “Why not?”

  “Matias may own the residence, but you forget how he lives.”

  Realization dawned on Logan’s face. “I thought he was retired.”

  “No one retires from our kind of life, Logan. The only people that’ll be around will be the caretakers.”

  There was a car ready for us when we stepped out. The driver was behind the wheel as we approached. He looked like he’d been waiting a while. The seat had been pulled back, and he was dozing. How had he contacted a driver to have him ready? I looked over at Reaper, curious.

  He opened the back door, motioning Logan and I in. Once inside, he slammed the door shut loud, rousing the driver awake. He bolted up, apologizing for sleeping as he slid the seat forward. Reaper rounded the car and jumped in beside him.

  The drive was quick. The driver zip
ped down a dirt road, past the field, and up to tall, white gates. He waved at a security camera from the window, and it opened straight away. I looked out the window, taking in the lavish Spanish style mansion, red roof and white stucco clad walls. The road turned to asphalt. There were acres of gardens leading up to the entrance. We pulled to a stop at the few steps leading up to the entrance.

  Outside the tall dark double-door entrance were three women waiting, dressed to the nines in lavish creamy dresses.

  “Jesus, the women here,” Logan muttered under his breath as he took them with a dazed expression. “I’m gonna retire in South America, Reap.”

  Reaper looked like he didn’t give a fuck where Logan was going to retire as he stepped out of the car and walked up the steps. They smiled brightly at him, like they were expecting him.

  “Logan,” I muttered, confused, “I thought there was no internet where we were.”

  “There isn’t.”

  “Cell reception?”

  “It was completely off the grid.”

  I looked at him salivating next to me. “How did Reaper set this all up last minute?”

  Logan’s face fell. He glanced at me and heaved a shrug, not responding. I didn’t bother to push it. I watched Reaper have a quick conversation with one of the stunners. Then he turned to the car and let out a whistle, shouting Logan’s name.

  He jumped out excitedly, running a hand over his hair real quick as he practically dived up the steps to him. They had a quick word. Taking advantage of this time alone with the driver, I quietly said, “Did you know we’d be here?”

  The driver glanced at me in the rear-view mirror and said nothing. Fine. Moments later, Logan returned and opened the door for me.

  “Come on, babe,” he said, smiling at me. “Time to get you married.”

  Twenty-four

  Logan

  The way Reaper looked at Olivia as she was led into the house made Logan feel like he was in a fucking R rated Disney movie.

  “You gotta stop holding back,” he said to him as casually as he could, pretending it was nonchalant talk. He even half-pretended to check out one of the babes for emphasis on the casual part.

  “Logan,” Reaper began, “you really can’t fake shit, you know that?”

  Logan’s shoulders slumped. He looked at him sternly now only because he needed to cut the shit. “Look, you can pretend all you fucking want that this is nothing for you. You can glare and stare at me like you are now with that fucking impossible to read face, but I know you. I fucking know you, man. I’ve been here with you since the fall, haven’t I? I let everything go and followed you. I’m telling you right now, it’s time to move the fuck on.”

  “I’ve moved on,” he said with conviction. He sounded believable. Like he really had.

  Logan stared at him long and hard, trying to figure this fucker out. “Then why are you holding back? You don’t have to be here. You didn’t have to drag her into the fucking Amazon man. The insects are fuckin’ with my head. Literally, they’re in my scalp now, Reap. I’m itching like a motherfucker –”

  “Logan.”

  “I’m saying you can be in Winthrop right now. Your men could have done all that bullshit crazy fucking cooking without you present. They didn’t need you. And fucking hell, you gotta let Christy go too, man. She’s dependant on you. I’ve never understood your fixation with rescuing women and keeping an eye on them, but it’s fucking over the top now. It ain’t fair on Christy, and it ain’t fair on Olivia either.” Logan shook his head, monologuing now. “You know, we’re all a group of verbally abusive fucks now, Reap. The other day Shane called Christy a tridactyl under his breath and she fucking heard it. She actually looked sad, man. And Christy’s a bitch as it is. Like, making her sad is a fucking accomplishment, and he did it. He fucking did it. Deserves a fucking medal –”

  “Okay, Logan, I fucking get it, alright? Really. I see it from your end. Just stop talking.” Reaper was annoyed as fuck, but he was also nodding, like he was listening.

  Logan patted him on the back, feeling good about himself. He’d held those words in for so fucking long. If everything suddenly went okay, he was going to congratulate himself. He deserved the praise.

  He was a fixer.

  Hell fuck yeah, he liked the sound of that.

  “I think I’ll name myself The Fixer, Reap. That’ll be like my nickname, kind of like your name.”

  “I gotta get ready,” Reaper cut in, shaking his head. “I don’t have time to hear anymore of your Dr Phil speeches.”

  “Am I at least invited to the wedding?”

  “Hell fuck no.”

  “Then why am I here? You literally using me for a ride, huh? Pilots have feelings too.”

  Reaper walked away, yelling out, “You’re my eyes and ears, Logan. I trust you with my life.”

  Twenty-five

  Liv

  I was in a bathroom the size of the hut I’d spent days in, staring at a dress hung up on the door. I must have stood there for nearly ten minutes, dazed.

  This morning had moved along too fast for me to grasp. One second, I’d been warm in Reaper’s bed, and the next I was in a giant mansion, led into a massive room by one of the most stunning woman I’d ever seen. Nicest too.

  “Everything you need is in here,” she told me, with the prettiest accent. “All the essentials, clothes, everything.”

  I blinked at her and then the room, taking things in one detail at a time. Four poster bed. White cream rug. Giant floor to ceiling window overlooking the back of the mansion.

  I started breathing a little heavier. “I’m not ready.”

  “Of course you’re not,” Sofia said, chuckling. “We would never throw your dress on now without getting you ready. There’s a bathroom over there. Why don’t you get yourself cleaned up? You have an hour before we begin fixing you up. I’ll give you your privacy.”

  She walked out of the room, closing it shut behind her. Leaving me totally alone. I raced to the bathroom she’d pointed me to, determined to get cleaned up. Being surrounded by luxury, I’d never felt filthier than ever before.

  I’d stripped completely and headed straight into the massive shower stall. I stood under boiling hot water, scrubbing myself with flowery scented body washes. I went to town on my hair, lavishing it with high end shampoo and conditioner. As I scrubbed myself raw, I took in the bathroom, enamoured. I wasn’t one for luxury. I had always been a simple girl. But when you’d been living in the dead of the jungle stripped of most every day conveniences, suddenly they became ultimate luxuries. Hot water was the biggest luxury of them all.

  There was a plush towel and white robe set aside for me when I stepped out. I dried myself off and threw the robe on me. I was brushing my hair in front of the mirror, gawking at how changed I’d looked – I must have lost five pounds minimum – when I saw the reflection of the door and what was hanging on the back of it.

  I paused and slowly turned around. That was where I’d stood for ten minutes, reflecting on the abrupt turn of events this morning had presented. Then I roused myself out of my shock and took the dress into my hands, looking it over.

  Then, as if possessed, I threw the robe off and took the dress down. It had a perfect little zip on the back. Oh, my god. I could actually wear it without help. I unzipped it and climbed into it, zipping it up easily. It ended near the top, exposing my upper back. The front had a built-in bra, and my breasts weren’t exploding. I left the bathroom and stood in front of a tall and wide mirror against one of the walls, gaping at myself.

  The dress was white and ended at the knees. The fabric was soft and breathable. No ruffles. No fucking ruffles at all. No exploding bust. Completely modest and – I took a deep breath, fully able to breathe – perfect.

  How the fuck had I wound up in the kind of dress I would have bought for myself if I could choose?

  “Beautiful,” said Sofia. I hadn’t even heard her coming in. She was standing by the door, a large smile plastered
on her face. “Do you like it?”

  “Do I like it?” I almost scoffed, looking at her with wide eyes. “I love it.”

  “I’m glad. I was flown in from Bogota and given a strict deadline for it.”

  I gave her a look. “You made this?”

  “Yes.”

  “For me?”

  She nodded. “I was worried about the measurements when I saw you just now. I was scared it would be too small around the bust.”

  “It’s perfect.”

  “I’m very glad.”

  I looked at her, intrigued. “How did you know I’d like this kind of dress?”

  “Reaper explained what he wanted.”

  “I guess our tastes are alike then,” I muttered, lost in thought.

  “He was very specific. Maybe he knows you better than you think.”

  I let out a loud laugh, giving her a dubious look. “No, believe me, we’re practically strangers.”

  “Huh,” she hummed, thoughtfully. “Sure didn’t sound that way on the phone with him. He seemed to know exactly what to get you.”

  My cheeks warmed. I didn’t need to hear that because it wasn’t true. It was a lucky guess. Reaper knew nothing about me. Though I knew that was full of shit. He’d gotten to me more than anyone else ever had. Even Sonja. Fuck, I missed her.

  “Do you usually work with these kinds of men,” I wondered, studying her.

  She smiled reservedly. “I work with everyone.”

  “I came in here dressed in practically nothing. I was filthy. I’m walking into a wedding with no family with me, my fiancé looks like he eats razor blades for dessert, and you haven’t been one bit disturbed by it.”

  “A smart person knows when not to ask questions.” It was then her face fell the slightest bit, and I saw it. I saw the flash of fear in her eyes.

  “You’re used to this,” I said, and it wasn’t a question.

  She sighed, looking my dress over slowly. “Most of my clientele are questionable people. But they come in for one thing. And that’s the highest quality of clothing they can find, and someone who can meet their vision. I don’t ask for names. I don’t take credit cards, just cash. And I only ask for one thing, and that’s their measurements. I take them, and I fashion them what they desire. There are no cameras in my shop. There are no workers. It’s a private market that brings in a very high stream of private people who want to remain anonymous.”