Faster (Stark Ink, #3)

by Dahlia West

  The exhaust boomed. The wind whipped at her helmet. This was freedom. This was flying.

  Suddenly, the engine pitched higher, like she was about to redline. She glanced down at the gauge, confused. The needle was still safely in the black. On the edge, yes, but she had it in the highest gear. The Honda should have been able to handle the speed.

  She let off the gas and engaged the clutch. It was only when her bike slowed to 75 that she realized the engine in question wasn’t hers. She checked her mirror and saw a single headlight bearing down on her. Instinct got the better of her and she slowed even further before cursing herself for her stupidity.

  She grabbed the throttle and jammed it hard, surging forward in a sudden burst of speed.

  The bike behind her was still gaining ground. Much too easily.

  Ava nudged her Honda to the left, to cut him off as he tried to pass. He fell back as an oncoming tractor trailer roared past them. Before the rider could recover from his thwarted attempt at a pass, Ava threw the Honda into top gear and tried to outrun him, at least to the next exit. If she could get off quickly without losing much speed, she could lose him in the hills.

  He seemed to realize it, though, because he darted back out. This time he crossed the double yellow line and gave his own bike more gas. He managed to pull ahead in just a few seconds.

  Riding side by side, Ava recognized the bike. Though it looked black in the inky night, she knew it was red.

  Blood red.

  Ahead of them, more headlights appeared, more traffic headed Emilio’s way. He saw it; he had to. He was looking straight ahead, for fuck’s sake. But the stubborn ass wouldn’t give up his position.

  Ava tried to out-ride him, to pull ahead and force him to come back in behind her before he ran head-on into the oncoming vehicle. She couldn’t get any more juice out of her smaller bike, though.

  Emilio gained another few inches, but it wasn’t much. It wouldn’t be enough, Ava realized. Not with her crowding the right lane.

  Pissed at having to lose this particular game of chicken, Ava cursed loudly as she let go of the accelerator. She braked smoothly and downshifted at the same time. Her bike slowed and she nudged the front tire to the right to hug the shoulder and give Emilio room.

  He swept in beside her, just ahead of her. Seconds later an SUV blasted past them. Ava didn’t have time to think about how close he’d come to being a grease spot on someone’s windshield.

  Emilio turned in sharply, nearly sideswiping her. Ava had no other option but to brake again and turn into the shoulder. As her tires rolled from the smooth blacktop to the loose-packed dirt, pebbles and dust flew in every direction. Ava’s bike wobbled from the sudden change in terrain but she managed to hold onto it. Emilio was just ahead of her. He’d also managed to avoid crashing. Ava was kind of conflicted about that.

  She skidded to a full stop and jammed her heels into the ground to remain upright. She felt for the kickstand, shoved it hard, and jumped off her bike. As she sprinted toward him, she tore off her helmet. She swung it at Emilio’s arm in a rage.

  He deflected it easily.

  “What the fuck are you doing?!” she nearly screamed. She was panting hard, cheeks flushed, but in truth she was more afraid than angry.

  How was he here? What did he know? Who did he tell?

  In sharp contrast to herself, Emilio was calm and moved with sharp precision. He slid off his helmet and hooked it onto a handlebar, then he threw his leg over his bike and dismounted.

  “You know,” he said in a low, steady voice, “a friend of mine once told me something that’s always stuck with me. He said, ‘Wherever you ride to, that’s where you are.’ ”

  Ava shook her head, confused. She didn’t have time for this, for him.

  “Where are you going, Ava?” Emilio demanded as he moved around the bike that separated them. His headlight illuminated him in the dark, tall, lean, muscled. He moved like a coyote.

  Or a rattlesnake.

  She refused to answer, instead taking a step back. She turned for her own bike but Emilio grabbed her arm.

  Ava’s insides twisted as he dragged her back to him. Behind them, lights appeared, a handful, a dozen. She glanced fearfully over her shoulder. It wasn’t the Buzzards, though. The lights were mounted too high. As the sound of large tires chewing through the dirt got closer, Ava realized they were trucks, three of them, fitted with light bars.

  The canyon lit up. Dirty grays and browns surrounded them. Ugly without the sunlight to enhance its natural beauty.

  Doors opened, boots hit the ground. Even half-blinded by the halogens, Ava knew them. Sullivan, Tex, Hawk. Even Easy and Doc, that ex-cop, stalked toward them.

  Ava panicked again and tried to wriggle out of Emilio’s hold.

  “I’m not letting you go,” he said quietly. “I gave you a chance.”

  Ava turned back to him and searched his face. His jaw was taut. His eyes were black, unreadable pools.

  “Emilio, I have to go. I have to,” she whispered low enough so that only he could hear.

  Emilio merely shook his head. “This is it, muñeca. The end of the line.”

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Ava tried to struggle as her backpack was lifted from her shoulders. Emilio only let go of her long enough for Tex to slip it off her arms. She grabbed at it frantically, panicked at the thought of losing all her hard-earned money. Her escape plan.

  Tex pulled it out of her reach and turned away, taking it with him. As he retreated, the other men passed him, closing in on her.

  Anger surged in Ava. “That’s mine!” she shouted. “Give it back!”

  The only response she got was the sound of the pack’s zipper.

  Realizing Tex wasn’t going to comply, Ava turned back to Emilio. She gave a hard yank on her arm, only hurting herself in the process. “Let go,” she demanded. “You can’t do this. You can’t stop me.”

  Emilio merely looked down at her. “I can,” he pointed out. “And I am.”

  She exhaled a sharp breath and pushed on his chest. “Well... I don’t want you! I told you. We’re done. We’re over. No ‘it’s more than that’... we never were. And what are you even doing out here? How did you know I’d be here?”

  Behind her, someone grunted. Ava glanced over her shoulder to see Shooter Sullivan staring her down. “Someone should teach you how to spot a tail, little girl. There’s more to life than just being faster than the guy that’s after you.”

  Ava ground her teeth, seething. “What do you want?” she asked them all.

  “Your friend and Jonah showed up at the garage,” Emilio told her.

  She gaped at him. “What? Sienna? With Jonah?”

  Emilio nodded. “Sienna said you blew her off, same as me.” His gaze darkened. “Cut her off, no explanation.”

  “Well... well, that’s none of your business!”

  He ignored her. “She said you were on foot—no bike—wouldn’t tell her why. I see you got it back.”

  A sharp whistle sounded and Ava turned in its direction. “And then some,” Tex declared loudly. “A passport and party favors.” In his hand, the small vial gleamed in the truck’s lights. He twisted off the tiny cap and dipped in his pinky finger. “It’s coke,” he told the others. “Barely, though. Cut with something nasty.” He trained his gaze on Ava. “Probably drain cleaner.”

  Ava’s stomach flip-flopped. She looked up to see every man of Burnout staring at her, six pairs of eyes boring into her. She shook her head vehemently. “It’s not mine,” she declared.

  No one said anything.

  Ava turned back to Emilio and grabbed his sleeve. His face was a hard mask that she couldn’t read. “Emilio, I swear to you, it’s not mine! Someone gave it to me. I wanted to toss it but he was standing right there. I didn’t know what to do. So, I just stuck it in my pack. I wasn’t going to take it. I swear to God, Emilio, I wasn’t going to use it.”

  Tex’s boots scraped on the asphalt as he moved toward t
hem. He palmed the vial but handed Emilio the backpack.

  “Emilio?” Shooter asked.

  Emilio finally tore his eyes from her and glanced at his boss.

  “Your call,” Shooter told him. “This one’ll be on you.”

  Emilio nodded and turned back to Ava. She gripped the leather of his jacket tightly, pleading. Her eyes were wet with tears.

  “I swear,” she whispered.

  After a moment, he reached up and swept a lock of hair out of her face and tucked it behind her ear. His gaze held hers. “She’s clean,” he announced without looking away. “She’d never touch that shit.”

  “There’s nothing in here,” Tex declared. “Nothing but that.” He looked at Ava expectantly.

  “Is this about the racing, Ava?” Emilio demanded.

  She jutted her chin and refused to answer.

  Emilio sighed. “Your friend said you were in trouble. She said she didn’t know how or why, but she begged me to help you. So, that’s what I’m going to do. Even if what you say is true and we... never were.”

  The ensuing silence was heavy, as stark as the canyons that lay just beyond. They wouldn’t torture her. They didn’t need to. Something told Ava these men could just stand here, like this, for as long as it took for her to tell them everything.

  “Clint,” she said quietly—too quietly, it seemed, because they didn’t hear her. “Clint,” she said louder. “It’s Clint.”

  “The ex,” Emilio told his friends.

  Ava shuddered at the word, at the fact that she had never seen Clint for what he really was.

  “I-I took some money from him. I mean, I didn’t steal it!” she corrected. “I earned it.”

  “How?” Emilio demanded.

  “Watching races. Learning the tracks, getting to know the riders. I helped Clint win in the beginning. Half that money was mine. But...”

  “What?” Emilio prodded.

  She sighed heavily, wishing the lights weren’t trained on her like she was on a fucking stage. She felt her cheeks burn with embarrassment. “He cheated on me. Then he wouldn’t give me my share of the prize money. So, I snuck into his house and I took it from the vent where he kept it.”

  She scowled and ground the heel of her boot into the dirt. “Maybe... maybe I took a little more than half,” she half-whispered. She jerked her head up, eyeing them all defiantly. “But he—I deserved it.”

  “So, how are you on this road right now, with coke in your bag and a passport? You’re just gonna run from him? Baby, I can protect you. And if I can’t, we can,” he said, gesturing behind her.

  Ava bit her lip. Thoughts swirled in her head, faster than her own bike. She finally turned to Shooter. “You don’t know?”

  He actually started at her words. His brows knitted into a sharp V. “Me?” he asked. “What would I know about it? Emilio called, he said you had trouble, but he didn’t know what kind. Said maybe we should be loaded for bear. Just in case. He said the two of you have been doing some illegal racing in the Badlands. Now you say you took some money from your ex. He’s hassling you. Sounds like we need to go have a conversation with him.”

  Ava shook her head. “It’s not Clint. It’s not him.”

  Shooter frowned. “You just said it was him. Now, look, I don’t know what this teeny-bopper bullshit is, but I’m half-tempted just to drag your ass back to your house and let Adam sort you out. Emilio, I’m sorry, but I don’t think this girl—”

  Terror spiked inside her and she pushed away from Emilio. She stumbled, but she didn’t get very far. “No!” she pleaded with Shooter. “You can’t call Adam. You can’t take me home! I have to get on my bike. Now. I have to go!”

  But Shooter was already shaking his head, already turning away. “Better luck next time, Emilio. Cut this one off after you dump her ass back home.”

  Ava felt desperation bubble up insider her and she blurted out, “They’re watching my house!”

  Shooter paused and turned back. She had his attention, but she wouldn’t keep it long. She had to go all in. She couldn’t see another way. If she could make them understand the danger, they’d let her go.

  “They took my bike,” she admitted. “They’ve had it all day. They... they took it apart. Then put it back together. I don’t know why.” It was true. She didn’t know why. She could only hope they believed her. The words tumbled out of her, along with her tears.

  “I don’t know why,” she repeated. “I don’t know what they did. I just know I’m supposed to go to Canada. To an address they gave me. I don’t know why,” she repeated. “Or what happens when I get there. But I know what happens if I don’t get there. They’ll hurt my family.”

  “Who?” Shooter demanded.

  Ava had come too far, let too much out to stop the floodgates now. In the back of her mind, the question registered, but she couldn’t answer it directly. Days and weeks of lying and secrecy had all caught up to her in one horrible moment. She closed her eyes and wished it would all go away.

  Even Emilio. She’d give him up, too, if it meant her family would be safe. After tonight, it wouldn’t be her choice anyway. He’d hate her.

  “Clint came to my house. He threatened to tell my dad and Adam about the racing if I didn’t come with him. He was pissed about the money. Like, royally pissed. He said sex wasn’t enough to make it up to him.”

  Behind her she felt Emilio’s hands squeeze her arms slightly. It was nice to think he cared, even if he was just pissed off, she’d lie to herself anyway.

  “Not that I would have done it,” she assured them, mostly Emilio. “He said I owed him. And then they came in. They had a bag of weed. One of them had a knife.”

  She laughed. A hard sound that was brittle yet sharp. “I should have let them kill Clint. For being an asshole. For being so stupid. They said I had to take the bag across town. In less than twenty minutes. That’s how it started.” She blinked a few more times, pushing tears away with her lashes. She wished she could wipe her face. “I run drugs and money back and forth across town for the Badlands Buzzards.”

  A breeze swept down from the hills and howled over the canyons. For a long moment, that was the only sound.

  Then Hawk said, “Well, shit.”

  “Every time was going to be the last time,” Ava said tiredly. “Every time I was going to find a way out. But I couldn’t. Then tonight they told me to make a run to Canada. I don’t know why. I swear.”

  Shooter regarded her for a moment. “And they took apart your bike?”

  Ava nodded glumly.

  Doc was closest to her Honda. He moved to it and knelt down in front of it, aided by the lights. His hands swept over the frame from headlight to tail light.

  “Well, here’s something, at least,” Doc declared. He reached out and plucked something out from under the leather seat. It was small enough to be concealed in his palm. Ava couldn’t tell what it was. Doc tossed the device. The light from the trucks caught it as it arced through the air.

  Shooter caught it gently with one hand and inspected it. “Tracking device,” he observed.

  Hawk grunted. “Doesn’t take all day to plant a tracking device on a sport bike. And you don’t have to take the damn thing apart.”

  Shooter gave the man another long look, then Ava. “Nope.”

  “Give it to Easy,” Doc ordered.

  Shooter tossed it to the younger man.

  “Drive it north,” Doc told him. “Till you hear from me.”

  Easy nodded and headed toward his truck. Ava watched in horror as he swung up into the cab, taking her future with him.

  She surged forward after him. Emilio grabbed her around the waist. “No!” Ava shouted, kicking hard. The heel of her boot actually connected with Emilio’s knee.

  It must have hurt. He grunted loudly, but he didn’t let go.

  “No!” Ava repeated. She looked to Doc, pleading with him. “You don’t understand! You don’t get it! They will kill my family!”

  Doc sho
ok his head firmly. “No one’s going to hurt your family,” he assured her.

  Ava choked back a sob and fought hard against Emilio’s hold. “They—they have pictures. Of Zoey and the baby. They said—you don’t know what they’ll do to her. You don’t know!”

  Doc closed the distance between them. With one hand, he took hold of her chin and lifted it. Ava could feel the sting of tears on her cheeks.

  “They won’t hurt your family,” Doc told her.

  Ava stared at him, bewildered. She blinked rapidly, sending fresh tears streaming. “H—how? You can’t... you can’t kill them all,” she whispered.

  Doc shook his head. “No. Much as I’d like to. No, we can’t.”

  Ava struggled again as Easy’s truck roared to life. He put it into gear and rolled slowly past them, toward the highway. “What are you going to do? There are dozens of them,” she reminded the remaining men. “Maybe a hundred!”

  Shooter snorted. “Forty-seven,” he countered. “Give or take a few prospects.”

  All the air left Ava’s lungs. Though forty-seven was considerably less than a hundred, it was still too many. Far, far too many. She dragged her eyes away from the tail lights disappearing on the road and settled them on the large man standing just a few feet away.

  “Are you one of them?” she asked.

  It was Emilio who answered. “What?! Fuck no, Ava!” His hands slid from her waist to her upper arms. He turned her roughly so that she was facing him. “Is that what you think? Is that what you thought? Is that why you didn’t come to me with this shit? Is that why you didn’t ask for help?! You think we’re part of this?”

  “Emilio,” Shooter warned in a gravelly voice. “Hands.”

  Ava watched as Emilio took a long, deep breath. As he exhaled, his fingers loosened on her arms. He finally let go and cupped her face, forcing her to look at him. “Ava, we’re not part of this.”

  Her own voice came out shaky but audible, at least. “I didn’t think you were. But...” She glanced guiltily at Shooter.