STRIKER: Lords of Carnage MC

by Daphne Loveling

  Please, I pray. Please come save me…

  Mark comes toward me. His eyes rake over my body, still in the wet towel. I see a flicker of desire in them, and for a second I’m afraid he’s going to… but no, he seems to think better of it.

  “Give me your arm,” he commands.

  I pull back, push myself up on my arms to kick him, but he levels the gun at my head, and I freeze.

  “You’re going to die either way, Ember,” he tells me in a low, flat tone.

  I lower myself back down.

  Mark jabs the syringe into my bicep. I cry out as he pushes down the plunger.

  “What is it?” I ask, staring at my arm.

  “Something that won’t arouse suspicion,” he replies with a sneer. “If there’s enough of you for them to do an autopsy.”

  “You won’t get away with it.”

  Mark lets out a dry laugh. “Oh, but that’s where you’re wrong,” he says. “Because I just did.”

  I start to cry again, but this time it’s just tears running down my cheeks. My body mourning its last moments. “What’s next?” I ask. I’m already starting to feel the effects of whatever he shot me up with. I feel a dizzy, almost fuzzy. My arms are getting heavy.

  “If they suspect anyone, it will be the biker,” Mark tells me smugly. “His shirt was in the garage. Well, it’s in the house now. A lighter, too. Logically, the police will look in that direction if there are any suspicions.”

  “Striker,” I croak, sounding impossibly weak. My eyelids droop, and I try to fight them. “Jude…”

  Are any of them out there? Would they hear me, even if I could shout?

  Mark stands at the foot of the bed, watching me.

  In the bedroom doorway, Bert’s worried face is the last thing I see before my eyes close.

  35

  Striker

  As the Lords head back to Tanner Springs, I’m thankful as hell that we’re riding in formation, because I’m having one hell of a time thinking straight.

  What does it mean for Tank and Cady that Jess is dead?

  What does it mean for Wren?

  And why didn’t Ember text me about it?

  That last question has a pretty damn obvious answer. Goddamnit. I haven’t talked to her in… shit, I don’t even know how many days. She probably thinks I’m done with her. She’s probably mad at me. Fuck, she probably should be mad at me. I blew up at her for no reason. She was just trying to do her job, just trying to think of the best-case scenarios for Wren.

  I brought my own shit into that. I should have apologized to her by now.

  Apologize. Have I ever apologized to anyone, for any reason?

  If so, I don’t remember it.

  Ember’s face appears in my mind as I remember what she said about her ex and those fucking flowers he’d give her.

  “Whenever we got into a fight, he always managed to bring up the flowers. ‘Don’t I do enough to show you I love you?’ he’d ask. ‘Don’t I bring you flowers every week?’ As though that meant he never did anything that he should excuse himself for. I realized toward the end of our marriage that I had never actually heard him utter the words, ‘I’m sorry.’”

  Shit. I don’t wanna be that guy. The guy who thinks he’s too tough to apologize.

  Ember deserves better than that.

  The hum of the road beneath my tires thrums like a bass note, accentuating my spinning thoughts as I make my way closer to her. By the time we’re ten miles from Tanner Springs, I’ve realized something I should have figured out a while ago.

  I’m in love with her.

  That should scare the shit out of me. And it does, kinda. But it also lifts a weight off me.

  Because I want to be the guy who does better for her. The guy who is better for her.

  And fuck it. That starts now. It’s time for me to stop fucking up, and start stepping up.

  As we get into town, I signal to Tank that I’m gonna peel off from the formation. He gives me a chin lift, and I take the next light and turn toward the area of town where Ember lives. On the way, I think about what I’m gonna say to her, feeling like a jackass but knowing it’s the right thing to do.

  Two blocks away from her house, I start to worry that maybe she ain’t there. Maybe I should have called ahead first.

  But no, I’m gonna do this now. Even if I have to sit outside on her fucking front step and wait for her to get home.

  I pull into her street, and drive to the spot across from her house where one of the Lords should be standing guard.

  No one.

  I glance up and down the street, looking for a bike or a car I’d recognize. Nope.

  “What the fuck,” I growl. I cut the engine and hop off the bike, covering the distance to Ember’s front door in seconds. It’s dark out, and I notice right away that through the window, I can see flickering light. Does Ember have the fireplace going?

  I knock on the door. No answer. I pound louder.

  Nothing.

  Grabbing my phone from my pocket, I send her a quick text.

  Ember. I’m outside. I need to talk to you.

  While I’m waiting for her to answer, I pound on the door again. “Ember!” I shout. “Open the door!”

  The rumble of an engine in the distance makes me turn toward it. The head lamp of a motorcycle comes closer. It’s Jude. I wait as he parks the bike and lopes up to join me.

  “Hey,” I grunt. “Where the fuck have you been?”

  “What do you mean?” His brow wrinkles. “I’m here for my shift.”

  “Who was supposed to be here before you?”

  “Dunno. They weren’t here?”

  “Nope.” I gesture toward the door. “And I can’t get Ember to open up.”

  “You sure she’s in there?” he asks.

  “I’d guess so.” I nod toward the front window. “Looks like she’s got a fire in the fireplace.”

  “Huh. Yeah, I can smell the fire from here,” Jude agrees. “Hey, Bert’s in there barking. You hear that?”

  He’s right. Bert is barking. But it’s funny, it doesn’t sound quite right. His bark is higher than usual, almost frantic.

  Shit.

  I look at Jude. “I think something’s wrong.”

  I try the doorknob. It’s locked.

  Stand back,” I tell him.

  Jude does what I say. I step back, anchor myself with my standing foot, then drive my heel into the door. It’s old and solid, but I feel a little give. I kick again, then again. The wood starts to splinter. On the fourth try, it gives way.

  I burst inside, Jude behind me. The first thing I see is the smoky haze. The second is Bert, running back and forth up and down the stairs, yelping.

  “Get him out of here!” I yell at Jude. I sprint up the stairs, and get to the top just as Ember staggers out of her bedroom, naked. She’s coughing and wheezing, dragging a bedsheet behind her.

  “Ember!” I run to her. Blearily, she peers through half-closed eyelids as she continues to cough. I scoop her up, grabbing the bedsheet too, and carry her limp body down the stairs. Eyes stinging, I see now that the flickering light is flames engulfing the kitchen and the entire back of the house.

  I carry Ember outside, all the way out past the sidewalk to the boulevard, and set her down on the grass. I help her drape the sheet around her to cover her nakedness, then take off my leather cut and put it around her so she won’t be cold.

  “Jesus, the entire place is gonna go up,” Jude declares. “If we’d been a few minutes later…”

  Ember is still coughing. I brush the hair from her face, listen to her breathing. She blinks up at me. “I… I didn’t think I’d make it out…”

  “You can thank Bert,” I tell her. “His barking was what made me realize there was something wrong.”

  Ember’s coughing quiets, and she sucks in a great, shaky lungful of air. “Oh, thank God,” she exhales. She takes another slow, careful breath and lets it out, looking around her. Suddenly, she freezes
.

  “Why is that there?” she pants.

  I follow her eyes to a Beemer that’s parked a couple houses down. It’s the only car on that side of the street at this hour. It’s familiar, but it takes me a second to place it. Then I realize whose it is.

  “Was he here?” I ask.

  Ember’s eyes widen in fear. “Striker, I think he’s still inside the house!”

  Jude is standing behind Striker. “There’s someone still in there?” he asks in alarm.

  Ember starts to talk, but she’s interrupted by a coughing fit. When she gets control of herself, she wheezes, “Yes, my… husband…”

  Jude doesn’t wait to hear the rest. Without a word, he takes off, sprinting toward the house.

  “No!” Ember chokes weakly. “Jude!”

  “Jude!” I yell after him, my voice booming across the yard. But he either doesn’t hear me or isn’t listening.

  Before I can stop him, Jude crashes through the door of the burning house and disappears inside.

  36

  Ember

  “Is she coming around?”

  The voices come to me as though they’re filtered through cotton, fuzzy and indistinct. At first, I can’t tell how many of them there are, or who they are.

  But then, I hear the low rumble that’s become as familiar to me as my own heartbeat.

  “I think so,” he says. “Her eyelids are fluttering.”

  Striker.

  I try to open my eyes, but the bright light sends a spear of pain through my head. I squeeze my eyelids shut and turn away from it, moaning.

  “Hey, Tank, can you shut those blinds? I think the sunlight is bothering her.”

  A second later, instant bliss as the light dims. I brace myself and try again. This time, it works. I squint through the fuzz in my brain and look up to see Striker’s face staring down at me, drawn and haggard, like he hasn’t slept.

  Then I remember where I am, and what brought me here.

  “What time is it?” I croak.

  “It’s morning,” Striker tells me, with a glance to the other side of the bed. I follow his eyes. Tank is there, with Cady at his side. Next to them is a woman in a nurse’s uniform whom I recognize as one of the other bikers’ old ladies.

  “Hi,” she smiles down at me. “I’m Isabel. Not sure if you remember me.”

  I start to nod, but it hurts. “Yes, I do.”

  “Strictly speaking, I shouldn’t be letting this many people in here at once to visit you,” she winks. “They promised me they wouldn’t tire you out or stay very long.”

  “Am I… am I okay?” I ask, alarmed.

  “Yes, you’re going to be just fine,” Isabel assures me. “The docs just want to keep you under observation for a little while, and make sure you get some rest before we release you. You have signs of smoke inhalation. And when we admitted you last night, you told us you’d been drugged by your ex-husband, so we’re going to watch you for a bit to make sure there are no lasting effects from either of those things.”

  At her words, my mind flashes back to the horror of last night. All of a sudden, my heart is racing. “Striker, where’s Bert?” I ask, reaching for his sleeve.

  “He’s fine, don’t worry. I got hold of Margot, and she came and took him to her house. She and Benji are outside waiting to see you, by the way.”

  “Wren is with them,” Cady adds. “She’d like to see you, too but I thought maybe she’d be a little too excited for your first visit.”

  I let out a soft laugh that ends in a cough. “That’s so sweet…” I say when I can speak again. And then all at once, I realize who isn’t here.

  “Oh my God,” I gasp. “What about Jude?”

  Striker seems pained. “He’s here at the hospital, too. He’s gonna be okay, but he got caught in the house when he went back in to look for your ex. He suffered some burns, unfortunately. The docs say he’s gonna heal, but it’ll take time. And there’ll be some scarring.”

  “Oh, no…” I say, stricken.

  “He’s pretty upset that none of the Lords were watching the house when Mark showed up to break in,” Striker continues, shaking his head. “He feels like this whole thing is his fault. Maybe we can go see him when they release you. Set his mind at ease a little.”

  I’m fighting the urge to cry. “Poor Jude!” I exclaim. “He shouldn’t feel bad. He’s a hero. But wait… did he manage to get Mark out?”

  Striker and Tank exchange a look.

  “Mark didn’t make it,” Striker grunts. “He was dead before Jude went in for him.”

  “Oh my God.” I pull in a shaky breath.

  “The fire department came, of course,” Tank adds. “You probably don’t remember much of that. I talked to one of the fire fighters, a guy I know. He told me it’s gonna be a while before they figure out what happened, but his best guess is there was an explosion in the basement. Your ex was down there when it happened. His body was pretty badly burned. The guy I talked to said there’s probably gonna be an investigation, but they think maybe he was trying to start some sort of electrical fire down there and it backfired on him.”

  “That piece of shit is lucky he died in that fire,” Striker growls. His face is a hurricane of anger. “I shoulda killed him when I first saw him.”

  “Mark is dead,” I repeat dully. It doesn’t feel real. It doesn’t feel like anything. Maybe I’m still in shock. Shouldn’t I feel… sad? Relieved? Angry? Something?

  A strange beeping interrupts my thoughts. Isabel glances down at a device clipped to her waist.

  “I’ve got to go,” she announces, then says to Striker, “Promise me you won’t let any more people than this in at a time?”

  “Don’t worry. They’ll have to get through me,” Striker says.

  Isabel gives me a little wave and slips out the door, closing it behind her.

  “We should probably get going and let someone else have a turn,” Cady pipes up. “Ember, we just wanted to see you and make sure you were okay.”

  “I really appreciate you being here,” I say sincerely. And I do. Having Tank and Cady here right now makes them feel less like clients, and more like friends.

  “Hey,” Striker says, clearing his throat. “Before you guys take off, I have a couple things I wanna talk to you two about. Something I something else I just found out. And, uh…” He glances at me. “It seems to me like all four of us should be here for this conversation.”

  Tank frowns. “Okay. “What’s up?”

  “Well, see, here’s the thing,” Striker begins, running a hand over his head. “Tank, when you told me your paternity test came back negative for Wren, I was as shocked as anyone. I thought for sure you were being crazy, worrying that you weren’t her dad. But then, when it turned out you weren’t, I dunno… I couldn’t think of anything I could do to help you. Except for one thing. Which seemed like a long shot, but since it was still a possibility, I decided to do it anyway.”

  Striker’s eyes meet mine.

  Then, all at once, it clicks in my mind what he’s about to say.

  “I went over to that same lab, to take the test myself.” He pauses. “They just called me an hour or so ago with the results. Turns out, it was positive.”

  For a second, it feels like all the air has been sucked out of the room.

  “You…” Cady’s eyes fill with tears. “You’re Wren’s father?”

  “I’m Wren’s biological father,” Striker corrects. “But I’m good with being Uncle Striker. I’m gonna sign over parental rights to you guys.”

  Cady starts to weep. Tank puts his arm around her, but he’s gaping at Striker.

  “Are you serious, brother?” he croaks. His eyes are shining, and I can see he’s trying to hold himself together.

  Striker shrugs. “Of course I am.”

  Cady breaks away from Tank, and runs over to throw her arms around him.

  “We’ll tell her the truth just as soon as she’s old enough to understand, Striker,” she sobs. �
��I promise.”

  Striker puts a comforting arm around her. “You’re her parents,” he murmurs, then turns to Tank. “The truth is, brother, I may be the father, but you’re Wren’s dad.”

  “Holy shit,” Tank says, his voice breaking. He goes over to Striker as well, and gives him a tight hug, clapping him on the back. “Thank you, brother.”

  They stay like that for a moment, and then Striker hands a still-weeping Cady off to Tank.

  “I better get her home,” Tank croaks, then clears his throat. “Thanks again, brother.”

  “You tell Bird hello from her Uncle Striker,” Striker says. “And could you do me a favor? When you go out there, tell everyone else not to come in just yet. I’ll go out and get the next visitors in a little bit.” He turns to me. “I need to talk to Ember for a minute first.”

  Tank leads Cady away. Striker waits until the door closes behind them, then comes over and sits beside me on the bed.

  “That was a good thing you did,” I sniffle, wiping at my eyes.

  “It was the right thing,” he corrects. “How you feelin’?”

  I let out a breath. “Exhausted. Overwhelmed. Maybe in shock, a little bit. I can’t believe Mark is dead,” I say, shaking my head. “It’s just so… awful. Surreal.” I raise my hand to my mouth. “Oh, God, does Margot know yet?”

  Striker grunts a yes. “I told her when I called her to take Bert.”

  “Oh, of course.” I swallow. “How was she?”

  “Shocked, but fine. She was really glad to know you were okay.”

  “I wonder if she’s called his parents yet,” I fret. “Should I be doing that? Technically I’m still his wife…”

  “Sshhh…” Striker brings a finger to my lips. “You don’t need to worry about any of that right now. I’ll talk to Margot and ask her if she’ll call them, if she hasn’t already.”