Burn

by Jc Emery

  Chapter 2

  “Melinda Claire Mercer!”

  Crap-a-doodle! The bend up ahead is getting closer, and maybe, just maybe, if I run fast enough, I can make it past the last house before the bend and into the park where Ian’s Harley can’t follow. I’m only a few miles from home, but I’m not stupid enough to think I can outrun a Harley. But I don’t have to outrun it—I just have to outsmart the man on the Harley.

  Easier said than done.

  The bike creeps up beside me and slows down. Ian turns his attention toward me and shakes his head in disapproval.

  “Stop now and I’ll make it easy on you,” he shouts. I raise my eyebrows and shrug my shoulders, trying to keep up my frantic pace all the while, and turn back to the road. I’m almost at the bend. If I can just get to the par . . .

  “Five. Do not make me get to one.” His voice is clipped but still smooth and comforting like always. It’s occurred to me that this is, perhaps, the most I’ve heard him speak in such a short time frame. I’m so distracted by the sound of his voice that I don’t focus in on what he’s saying. What did he say?

  “Four,” he shouts.

  A countdown. He’s given me a countdown. Oh, this isn’t good. I’m in trouble over something, and I’d probably feel a bit better about this whole situation if I had any clue what’s made him so angry.

  But I already know, don’t I?

  Maybe it’s not paranoia. Maybe he knows what I was just doing.

  No, that can’t be it, can it?

  The road bends, and instead of following it around the curve, I take a sharp right into the park and head for the playground. I slow myself down just slightly with an ignorant confidence that I’ll likely regret.

  “Fuck!” Ian screams from behind me. I stop for a moment, my lungs burning and chest heaving, legs aching and mind spinning, to turn around and eye him stopped on the road. With a shake of his head and a disapproving scowl on his face, he backs his bike up and pivots it to face me.

  “Oh no,” I find myself whispering with a hand clamped over my chapped lips. With a quick peek behind me, I find that the park is deserted. He wouldn’t, would he? His engine revs, and he comes barreling toward me with a speed and ferocity that I’m sure is going to get me flattened by a couple hundred pounds of steel and muscle. I’ve nowhere to run now, so I do the only thing I can to put some distance between myself and the crazy angry outlaw—I run into the playground’s sandy circle and climb up to the top of the play structure. It’s not like I think I’m hiding up here, but the distance will give me a moment to figure out what’s crawled into his jeans and died.

  Don’t be stupid, I think to myself. I already know. It’s not paranoia. Smirk said he had nothing for me, not that he was out. He kept me waiting for well over five minutes before telling me I wasn’t getting anything. I was barely at the curb when I heard the Harley behind me, and it’s not left me since.

  Oh God. What have I done? What has he done? Even more important—what’s he going to do?

  Ian pulls the bike up to the edge of the sand-laden circle and cuts her off. With jerky movements, he shoves the kickstand down and climbs off the bike. I’ve seen a lot of things in life, courtesy of my poor choices, but this is—without a measure of doubt—the most terrifying thing I’ve ever seen.

  “Two,” he says as he approaches the metal slide that leads up to the top of the structure and to the landing I’m perched on. With a thud, he places one black boot atop the bottom of the slide and leans forward. Good job, Mindy. Not only have I gotten myself into being chased by an angry biker, but I’ve also got him giving me a countdown to God only knows what. As far as poor choices go, I’m doing fabulously today.

  “You forgot three!” I shout and white-knuckle it to the durable plastic of the play structure. Go big or go home, I guess. If I’ve already dug myself a hole, I might as well make it a deep one.

  “No, babe. You just didn’t hear me.” His lips curl up in the corner, and he purses his lips. “Now, do I have to get to one, or are you going to go easy on yourself?”

  “Why are you following me anyway?” I ask and crouch down behind the thick plastic, raising up just enough to peek over the top and bracing myself for whatever Ian has in mind.

  “Not your time to ask questions.”

  I scrunch my eyes shut and curl into a fetal position as tightly as I can as I wait for his deep voice to bellow out the number one. I don’t know him well enough to assume what move he’s going to make. One deep breath, and then a second, and a third, and I’m halfway to resigning myself to my situation. He won’t hurt me, I already know that. It’s the disgust that I’m sure to find in his eyes that I want to avoid. People try to pretend that they understand or that they’re nonjudgmental, but it’s all a lie. The first time they look at me and try to figure out how high I am or what I’ve taken is always the beginning of the end. It doesn’t take much to figure out how little they think of me. And sometimes they have the courtesy of just outright saying it—I’m a pathetic junkie.

  “Come down, Mindy.” Ian’s voice is gentle, soft even. He’s closer now than before. The metal slide creaks in front of me, the only piece of the playground that hasn’t been replaced since my childhood. The whole thing used to be metal and wood. Holly and I would burn our legs in the height of summer under the hot sun, and when we were really tired, we’d forget about the worn wooden beams that held the whole thing up and would get dozens of splinters in a single afternoon. Now everything but the slide is made of a hard hazard-free plastic. Why they kept the old metal slide, I don’t even know.

  I can feel him approach even though I can’t see him. My eyes are still clamped shut, and I’m preparing myself for the worst. Is he going to hate me, judge me, or—even worse—abandon me? I can take the hate and judgment. It wouldn’t be the first time someone I’ve loved has looked at me with such disgust and contempt that I’ve hated myself all that much more for it. It wouldn’t be the first and certainly won’t be the last, but it will be the most painful. Ian’s only ever known me as the broken mess that I’ve become. He never got the chance to meet the perky girl who couldn’t imagine saying a curse word in public or who was afraid of body modification. Even getting a second hole in my ears was once a bit too taboo for me, even though I loved the look of it. No, the only thing Ian has known or ever will know me as is this pathetic, broken, scarred mess that I’ve let myself become.

  “What happens when you get to one?” I ask, keeping my voice small. The night’s breeze disappears and is replaced by the emanating heat of his body. The slide continues to groan, and the plastic I’m clutching onto shakes as he gets to the top of the slide and grabs ahold of it.

  “I will never hurt you,” he says. His hot breath washes over my face. Slowly, I open my eyes and blink rapidly. He’s closer than I expect, but for the first time since that day, such a close presence doesn’t scare me. It comforts me instead. I should be pulling away, at least that’s my MO as of late. But instead of pulling back, I’m leaning toward him.

  “I know,” I whisper.

  Ian’s deep brown eyes probe mine, asking a question I don’t understand and looking for an answer I can’t fathom. I just don’t know or understand anything anymore, and I’m tired of trying. He very slowly, cautiously even, brings the palm of his hand up to hover over my cheek. He looks ridiculous, his big body forcing its way through the hole in the plastic molding to reach me. I lean into his touch, welcoming it, surprising myself, so desperate for something to tether myself to.

  My grandma used to tell me that everybody needs to have something that matters in life. We all need to be tethered to something, or someone, who grounds us so that we never lose ourselves. So that we can always find our souls. I thought Heath was my tether, but I lost myself anyway. I lost my soul. I used to think that losing my soul was the worst thing that could happen, but being here with Ian, his rough, calloused skin barely brushing my cheek, I finally know the truth—my soul is nothing without this m
an to keep me from losing myself.

  “But what happens when you get to one?” I ask, still determined to find out his answer. Holly once told me that Ian doesn’t make empty threats, and I believe her. He must have had something in mind when he started counting down, and I want to know what it is. I want to know everything that goes on inside his brain. Every dirty, sadistic thing he thinks and says and does just adds to who he is, and I’m already addicted to him. Every bit I get, even this first touch isn’t enough.

  “I own you at one.” His words feel like they’re meant to be menacing, shrill even. But instead they come out like a warm blanket intended to comfort me. I doubt he feels it, the heat radiating from us. But I do. It’s so warm and comfortable and everything I want and need in life. He is by far the best addiction I’ve ever had. I want to tell him that he already owns me. I could convince myself that this will work out. I can pretend it doesn’t hurt anymore or that I’m not too damaged for this. I can fake it with the best of them.

  “I’m here.” I rub my cheek against his rough skin and let my eyes fall closed in delight. This doesn’t scare me. For once, my heart isn’t beating out of my chest and I’m not retreating back into that place where everything’s so disgusting and hollow that I’d rather die on that dingy carpeted office floor than to breathe for another second.

  But that was just before Ian strode into the room and stood guard to protect me, shield me, from the others. He spoke with such care in an effort to not cause me any more pain. And months later, he’s still being careful with me.

  “Good girl. You don’t want me to own you.” When he says the word want, his voice pitches slightly as he sucks in a deep breath.

  “Why not?” Do I really want to know? Yes, I think I do.

  “Because you need gentle. Safe.”

  “I feel safe with you.” I need to just shut my damn chatty mouth already.

  “You’re not.”

  Chapter 3

  “Been awhile since you’ve been around,” the old man says with a flat expression and absolutely zero amusement at my presence. Harry Mercer isn’t a fan of Forsaken, and he’s definitely not a fan of me. Not that I give a fuck. Mindy’s gotten under my skin, and his constant, thinly-veiled threats of jail do nothing to deter me.

  “Missed me?” I ask, letting my mouth lift into a rare smile. From the way his expressionless face slides into a frown, I’m betting it’s more sinister than intended. I don’t actually want to fight or argue with the old bastard. I will if he insists, but I have more important shit to deal with. Like his daughter’s little outing the other night. She must have known from the moment she saw me that I wasn’t fucking around, because she ran like her life depended on it. Once I was able to calm down a bit, I realized I’d scared her, and that’s the last thing I want. Mindy should never fear me. What we have is built on something deeper than that, but if I have to scare her to force her to submit to what’s best for her, then that’s what I’ll do. I’m just glad my boys got my back with this shit.

  Harry and I stand, staring at one another wordlessly for a few minutes before he blows out a frustrated breath and steps aside to let me in. He tries, but he never has been able to outwait me. He’s a patient man, but I’ve been at this game longer than he has. I reach up and brush the scar on my face as I stride into the house and down the hall to Mindy’s bedroom thinking about the man I’ve been waiting almost twenty-one years for.

  Soon, Carlo.

  Soon.

  Her bedroom door is closed, but there’s no lock on it, so nothing stops me as I twist the knob and swing the door open. I keep my eyes on the carpeted floor beneath my black boots and ignore the surprised scream that comes from the corner of the room. I’ve never seen in Mindy’s bedroom before, and as much as I want to look around, I fight the urge. I couldn’t barge in here and see her in a compromised position and not hate myself for it. She’s been violated in so many ways already. She deserves nothing but respect and love and to be cherished by a kind and gentle man.

  Too bad for her she’s got me instead.

  “Ian?” Her voice is confused, but I hear the excitement beneath her curiosity. Her sock-covered feet come into view as she crawls off her bed and comes to stand before me. My eyes trail up her covered legs, past her tank top, and finally settle on her light green eyes. The last time I saw her, she looked so different. I wanted to touch her on that playground so fucking bad that my veins burned with the desire for it. I wanted to cover her with myself, wrap her around me, and possess her in every way possible. She doesn’t want that, though, so I settled for almost touching her. She surprised me when she tilted her cheek into my cupped hand. Before that moment, I thought her wanting me to touch her was just a fantasy my sick brain had conjured up. But now there’s this disgusting hope settling in my stomach and worming its way into my soul.

  “Get dressed and meet me outside.” I don’t spend another second in the doorway. The moment the words are out of my mouth, I’m back down the hall and then out the front door. I find my phone in my front pocket of my jeans and pull it out to give Trigger the go-ahead. The sick asshole responds immediately with OK and adds a fucking smiley face emoticon at the end of it. Only arson or torture could get my brother this happy in a text message.

  After sending the message to Ryan, I stand and wait on Mindy’s lawn. I can feel Harry and Claire watching me from inside the house, but I pay them as little mind as possible. I’ve tried to be kind to Claire. She’s a soft-spoken woman without a single edge to her. She needs kind, but my kind just makes her recoil.

  “Where are we going, and where’s your bike?” Mindy asks, startling me as she comes to stand beside me. I’m so off my fucking game here it’s not even funny. I don’t startle easy but this shit has me on edge.

  “Thought you’d prefer the Suburban,” I say and hitch my thumb to Ma’s red SUV. Mindy nods her head and gives me a small, grateful smile. The other night at the park she wouldn’t get on the back of my bike. I was desperate to have her there, behind me, but she was already so fucked-up over being caught trying to score that I didn’t want to push her. Instead, she walked alongside me as I pushed my bike from the park to her house. I wasn’t going to just leave her there. If she were mine and she had defied an order like that, I would have had a lot of fun with her ass when we got home.

  But she’s not mine, and judging from the way she freaks out over every little thing, she never will be. Fuck. The very thought of never owning the woman beside me sends me into an angry haze. Somebody might die today after all.

  I point at the SUV and walk to the passenger door and open it up for her. Mindy takes a moment to get moving, but when she does, I can’t take my eyes off of her. She’s wearing a pair of worn black jeans, faded and torn at the knees, tucked into black Doc Martens. Her wavy strawberry blonde hair is up in a ponytail and hanging as low as the small of her back. It’s gotten so long in the last year.

  My body tenses as she gets closer, and by the time she swings her body into the passenger seat, I have to look down at my boots. Her ass is fucking perfect and curvy. She’s lost weight, which irritates me to no end because she doesn’t eat enough, but she’s still fucking perfect. It doesn’t escape me that we’re wearing nearly identical outfits, save for her pale-pink long-sleeve button-up and my cut atop my white tee. She didn’t used to dress like this. It was always something more feminine, softer, and more librarian than biker chick. I never could imagine sweet, cutesy Mindy in my world.

  Until now.

  I force myself to close the SUV’s door and walk around without thinking about how well she could fit in my world if only she would let me show her what it’s like. If only she would let me touch her.

  With a turn of the key, the Suburban starts right up, and we pull away from the curb. Mindy’s got her hands on her lap, and she’s nervously picking at nonexistent dirt under her nails. She’s so quiet and worried—I can tell by the frown line that’s appeared on her smooth face—that she didn’t e
ven put her seatbelt on. Instinctively, I reach over and grab ahold of the belt. The outside of my arm brushes against her stomach, and she sucks in a breath reflexively. She tenses under my featherlight touch, but her eyes shoot to mine. I balance my time between watching the road and her face as I pull on the seatbelt. She doesn’t flip out or panic like I expect her to. Instead, she lifts her hands, giving me room to bring the belt over her lap and secure it into its safety lock.. Confidently, I give the locked belt a tug to tighten it.

  “You’re not wearing your seat belt,” she says softly. Her voice seems to pick up confidence toward the end of the sentence, like she’s working up to arguing with me. A hopeful smile creeps to my lips at the thought. I wish she would try to fight me. There’s nothing better than getting the gift of an unbroken mare and teaching her how to behave.

  “No, I’m not.” I clear the smile from my face. She’s going to hate me in a few minutes, and I don’t want this time between us to have her thinking that just because I like her and I’m being nice, that I won’t stay true to my word. I always keep my word, even if I have to make her hate me to do it.

  “If I have to wear my seat belt, you have to wear yours.” She folds her arms over her chest and raises an eyebrow at me.

  “That’s not how this works.” I blow out a deep breath and decide how to phrase what I want to say. She has to understand me, us, this so we don’t have to fight it out later. Especially if I can’t touch her and truly punish her for misbehaving.

  “Explain it to me, then.” Her eyes haven’t left mine since I grabbed the seat belt to snap her in, and thank fuck for it, too. She hasn’t even looked to see where we’re headed. I should have put her in the back with the child locks to keep her from trying to jump out, but distracting her seems to be working well enough. For now.