Faster (Stark Ink, #3)

by Dahlia West

  Sullivan shook his head slowly. “No, Ava,” he said gently. “I left that life a long, long time ago. I’m never going back. But I came back,” he admitted. “I came back to Rapid City to make sure that the Buzzards never hurt anyone I care about. That list is short, Ava. But you’re on it. You and your family.”

  Ava waited for it to all sink in. For some reason, she believed him. Absolutely believed him. He had to know how dangerous they were. He had to know he was putting her family at risk. Maybe he knew what he was doing, though. Maybe, Shooter Sullivan knew a lot of things.

  She cleared her throat and took a long moment before she blurted out a question. “They say... they say they know Adam. And Dalton. Like, know them.”

  Ava had been hoping for a denial, for some assurance that no one in her own family would associate with these lowlifes. Instead, the corners of Shooter Sullivan’s mouth turned down and even in the relative dark, she could see his eyes cloud over slightly.

  “Won’t tell tales out of school,” he replied. “What Adam and Dalton want you to know is their business, family business. But I suspect you’ll all have some confessions to make.”

  The way he looked at her was the same way Pop looked at her whenever she’d fucked up royally. The message was clear. He’d give her a chance to come clean first, on her own terms. It was in her best interest to do just that.

  She scraped the heels of her boots on the hard-scrabble surface below her feet. It was grounding somehow, reassuring. This place had survived thousands of years, maybe millions.

  The Starks would, too.

  “When I don’t cross the border, when I don’t make it to the destination, they’ll know,” she reminded Sullivan. “They’ll know I flaked.”

  Before Shooter could answer, Doc did. “By morning, there won’t be any of them left to come after you or your family.”

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Ava watched mutely as the men of Burnout loaded her Honda into the back of Shooter’s pickup. Once it was secure, Shooter pulled slowly back out onto the highway and headed back toward town. Tex handed over her helmet and her backpack (minus the coke), gave her a reassuring smile, and turned to leave.

  She felt Emilio’s large hand on her shoulder as Tex swung himself up into what she now realized was a large, black Hummer rather than a truck. It was at that moment Ava understood there was no other way home. No other ride being offered, or even considered. She’d ride with Emilio, and no one else.

  As she pulled her helmet on, she realized this would be the first time she’d been on his bike— on anyone’s—since Clint.

  She wished it were under happier circumstances.

  He didn’t speak as he lifted his own helmet from his handlebar. He slid it on and moved up, making room for her. She felt defeated, smaller somehow, as she threw her leg over the seat and settled in behind him. It was hard to put this in the win column. She didn’t have to make one last drug run, but it didn’t change the fact that she had done it before.

  And now he knew. They all did. It might be dark out now, but all her sins were now in the light.

  All she wanted to do was crawl under a rock.

  Emilio rolled out onto the highway, but drove slow. Slower than Ava could remember ever being on a bike. She didn’t mind. In fact, she preferred it. Tex fell in line behind them, giving them some distance. Ava felt guilty for dragging them into this, but at the same time she was grateful that she wasn’t alone.

  She spread her hands against Emilio’s torso, fingers splayed wide, like she could hold onto every part of him at once. And never have to let him go. She pressed her chest against his back. Through his leather jacket, she could barely feel his heart beating. Or maybe she just imagined it. She closed her eyes anyway, and felt safer somehow.

  If her mother could see her now, what would she say? Ava already knew. The same thing Emilio was going to say when they got back to Rapid City.

  But she had this moment, this ride, and she was determined to hold on to it—to him—for as long as she could.

  Under them, the engine hummed steadily. Above them, the stars twinkled in the blackened sky. The canyons to their left sheltered them and guided their way back home.

  Emilio shifted through the gears, working them as smoothly as he worked her body over in the bedroom. It responded to him the same way she did, hungry for speed, begging to be opened up. He responded to the bike the same way he did to her, denying the rush, enjoying the ride.

  She might have lost that, too. His hands, his heart. Better not to think about it. So, of course it was the only thing on her mind.

  If he knew she was crying, he didn’t show it.

  The trip to town went by too fast. Ava wasn’t quite ready for it to be over. As they rolled through downtown, the reality of her circumstances came crashing back to her. Paranoia had her checking every side street, every alley, for a Harley and a black cut. Emilio seemed on alert as well, back straighter, shoulders tighter. She noticed his fingers never left the throttle, in case they needed a sudden burst of speed.

  No one appeared, though. No one seemed to notice them at all. When they approached the entrance to her neighborhood, Ava felt a spike of nausea at the thought of going home. Her back straightened and her arms stiffened around him.

  Emilio must have sensed her reluctance to go home, because he drifted too long, over-shot the turn, and gave the bike some more gas as he took them farther down the street to the stoplight ahead of them.

  Tex followed, providing backup of a sort, she supposed, until they reached Emilio’s own neighborhood. As they glided into the driveway, Tex continued on with just a simple touch of the horn.

  Ava slid off the Interceptor, her knees shaking and her body aching. Until now she hadn’t realized how much tension she’d been carrying around with her. Silently, she followed Emilio up the steps of the little blue house and then ducked inside, under his arm.

  Emilio turned on the light before closing the front door and locking it. His living room looked familiar and alien at the same time. Like a place where she didn’t quite belong, but desperately wanted to.

  She recognized it. It was a feeling she’d had all her life. A lump caught in her throat and she swallowed against it. “Can... can I stay? Please? Just for a little while?”

  “Ava, you can stay forever, but you have to face your family. And sooner rather than later since I’m sure they’re w—”

  She looked up at him sharply. “What?” she asked, cutting him off.

  He hesitated. “I said they’re probably worried. Or at least as confused as I was. You—”

  “I can stay?” she whispered. “I...” She couldn’t repeat the words. They felt too fragile in her mouth, too new, too untried. Like if she said them out loud he’d take them back, tell her he didn’t mean it that way.

  “Forever,” he said again.

  Ava held her breath.

  “I said it. I meant it. But after tonight, Ava, things are going to change. No more running hot and cold on me. No more shutting me out.” He stepped closer to her, within arm’s reach, and lifted his hand. “I let you in here,” he told her, then pressed his index finger lightly to her chest, “you let me in there. That’s the only way this works.”

  Suddenly she was dizzy, unsteady on her feet. Her knees buckled as she let out a jagged cry.

  “Jesus!” Emilio exclaimed as he darted forward.

  His arms caught her mid-fall and gathered her close. Through a blur of tears and sobbing, she went limp as he carried her to the couch against the wall. Ava’s chest burned as she fought against the weakness inside her that was breaking her down.

  It was a losing battle.

  She cried until her whole body ached and her throat was raw. She cried until she had no tears left to cry, for Mom, for Pop, for Adam who’d moved back home to take care of them, for Dalton who’d been taken forcibly to rehab when he would have preferred to just get drunk one night and never wake up. She cried for Jonah, who’d endured a chil
dhood so horrific that her own abandonment couldn’t even compare. If Jonah had been left in the nursery, he’d have been better off.

  She cried for Ashley who’d never drawn a breath, who apparently Ava had loved even when she was just an idea rather than an actual person. Ava’s shadow, the better version of herself. Ava had done so much wrong, had gotten everything wrong, it seemed. She couldn’t believe Emilio would still want her. She couldn’t be trusted. Even her memories couldn’t be trusted.

  “My mother abandoned me,” she whispered into Emilio’s chest. “And I thought my new mom abandoned me, too, but she didn’t. She never did. And I had a sister, but she wasn’t first. I was first and I never even knew.”

  He looked down at her frowning. “Whoa. Whoa, whoa. Slow down, Ava. I don’t understand what you’re saying. Your mom didn’t abandon you. She died of cancer.”

  Ava shook her head. “No, my real mom. Or... my birth mom. Guess she was never my real mom. She didn’t stick around.” Ava took a deep breath and let it out slowly. She’d never said these things out loud. These words weren’t brittle, though. They were diamond-hard and just as sharp. These words had teeth.

  She was a little afraid of them, to be honest.

  “I... I thought there was something wrong with me. And that was why she left me. Like she could see something in me that was bad or just not right. Not normal. And then the Starks adopted me, and I wasn’t normal. I climbed trees and ripped my tights and kicked the pews in church.

  “I always thought that the Starks had lost their real daughter, Ashley, and adopted me to take her place. That’s how I remembered it. Or I guess I don’t remember it. I just misunderstood. So, my whole life I thought that I was a second-rate replacement for the kid they’d rather have. But before I left, Adam told me I was first.

  “They adopted me first, and then Mom got pregnant with Ashley. I... I wasn’t just their second choice. When Mom had the miscarriage, a neighbor had to take care of me for a little bit. I thought they were sending me to live with her forever. I thought they didn’t love me anymore. I thought no one could love me.

  “So, I tried to be what I thought everyone wanted. Pop loved the boys, so with him I was a boy. Mom liked dresses and patent-leather shoes, so for her I was a girl. I thought I could be everything. Turns out I was nothing.”

  Emilio reached out and took hold of her chin, forcing her gaze to his. “I don’t want to hear that. I’ll listen to anything else, Ava, anything you need to tell me, but I won’t hear that. I won’t. You have a family and friends who love you, who’d do anything for you. ‘Nothing’ is not a word that can ever be used to describe you. You’re not like any girl I’ve ever met before. So what if you’re not normal. Fuck normal. You’re mine and that’s all I care about.”

  There was a sudden knock at the front door. Emilio cursed under his breath.

  “We’re not done,” he told her, getting up from the couch.

  Ava knew he meant more than just the conversation.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Emilio cursed and eased open the door, but with the chain still on. “Look,” he began angrily. A loud crack sounded as the door thrust inward and the wooden frame splintered where the chain was attached. Or used to be.

  Ava cried out in surprise as Emilio tumbled backward. Looming in the doorway was Clint, already lifting a wooden baseball bat, and rushing inside the house.

  Ava sprinted to the couch, swept up her helmet with her right hand and launched herself at her ex. Her arm made a wide arc, just as Clint made one of his own. She connected first, thankfully. The solid fiberglass of her helmet smashed the bridge of his nose with a sickening crunch. Blood misted.

  The bat’s trajectory was thrown off by more than a little. Instead of coming down on Emilio’s head, it ricocheted off his arm, just above the elbow. Emilio gave a loud grunt as it landed, but it was nearly drowned out by Clint’s bellowing.

  Clint abandoned the bat in favor of his nose and Ava raised her foot, delivering a kick that sent him sailing into the wall. Before she could advance on him, she got hit from behind, though. The full force of someone’s weight barreling down on her sent her sprawling.

  Emilio was on his feet in less than a second. He grabbed the first Tweedle by the hair and slammed his face into the damaged doorframe. She heard the sound of blows landing, all in quick succession, and she knew it was Emilio doing the hitting. The punches were delivered in a flurry, too fast for it to be the work of one of the mouth-breathers.

  As Ava jumped to her feet, she glimpsed Emilio making short work of his opponent with a combination and fury that would inspire even Jonah.

  Clint had one hand over his nose and was reaching for Emilio with the other. The bat lay at his feet, abandoned, momentarily forgotten.

  Ava jumped forward again and punched him in the back of the head. As he reeled, she scooped up the bat, wound up, and swung it down at a sharp angle. There was another loud crack, one that rivaled the kicked-in door, as it slammed into Clint’s right knee.

  He screamed, a throaty, high-pitched shriek that Ava had never heard a girl make, let alone a guy.

  Clint limped outside, tripping over himself. Emilio and the Tweedles had already moved their fight outside, if you could call it that. One was down on the ground, rolling in the grass. Emilio threw a right hook into the jaw of the other. Even the two of them together posed little threat. The muscles of Emilio’s arms and shoulders rippled as he ducked, for no apparent reason, then threw out another punch.

  Ava couldn’t help but laugh.

  The Tweedle left standing had been reduced to the wheezing equivalent of a work-out dummy. He was so clearly overmatched that it was comical.

  Ava turned her attention back to Clint and she stalked him across the lawn. He made it to his bike, parked at the curb, and turned to face her. Ava raised the bat like a club. Clint’s hands flew in every direction, unable to decide whether he wanted to protect his head or his balls. He settled on both, striking an awkward pose with his knees locked together, hips turned away, and jazz-hands covering his already-battered face.

  Ava paid him no mind and landed her blow anyway. There was a sharp crunch as she smashed the headlight of his BMW.

  “Hey!” Clint rasped and leaped forward at her.

  Ava squeezed the handle of the bat with her right hand and snatched up the top with her left. She cross-checked Clint across the chest, sending him backward onto the pavement. He popped up quickly, his broken nose seemingly forgotten.

  He reached into his jeans pocket and drew out a switchblade. It glinted in the moonlight. Ava, undaunted, tightened her grip on the Slugger. Clint took a menacing step toward her, but the unmistakable rack of a shotgun cut through the night air.

  All heads turned to see a tiny blonde, barefoot, standing on the sidewalk. “Drop it,” Daisy ordered, nodding at the knife, “and take the ass-kicking you deserve. I got a feeling she ain’t done with you.”

  Daisy grinned at Ava and Ava nodded back. She took a step forward but felt a pair of strong arms snaking around her waist.

  Before her instinct to fight kicked in again, she felt lips against the side of her head and Emilio’s rough, low voice in her ear. “Easy, muñeca. That’s assault with a deadly weapon. Doc might not even be able to get you out of that one.” He lifted one hand from her belly and encircled the bat with it.

  She let go as he took it from her.

  He stepped to the side, turning, and taking her with him. From this angle, they had eyes on all three of them, though Daisy had them all covered herself. Only Clint had managed to get to his feet. The other two were still struggling on the lawn.

  Emilio didn’t push her behind him or out of the way. He held her tightly to him and raised the bat to point it at Clint.

  “You’d better run,” Emilio told him calmly.

  Clint stared at them, bewildered. “No one’s answering their phones. Not Candy. Not Haze. Nobody. I don’t know what the fuck is going on, but I know whatever
it is, it’s your fault!”

  “Your friends are done,” Emilio informed him. “The Buzzards are over.”

  “Bullshit,” Clint spat. “That’s not true.” He raised his eyes to Ava. His hatred seethed. “I knew we couldn’t trust you! I told them that! But they wouldn’t listen. You’re such a cunt!”

  Ava tried to rush at him, but Emilio held her in place with just one arm. “Get out,” he ordered. “Out of my place, out of the city, too. RCPD’s got to be looking for you by now. Better get out of town, if you still can.”

  They stood their ground, watching the trio roll as fast as they could out of the neighborhood. Given the damage Ava and Emilio had dished out, it turned out it wasn’t very fast. When Emilio was satisfied they were gone, he released his grip from around her waist.

  Daisy grinned at them. “Y’all throw a hell of a party. Invite me next time so I don’t have to crash.” Her grin faded, though, and she looked at Ava. “Does Adam know where you are?”

  Ava shook her head, feeling the flood of guilt once more.

  “Don’t you think it’s time you went home?” asked Daisy quietly.

  Ava looked up at the moon and then back down to the woman who could have been a slightly older version of herself. Her very own older sister, alive and right in front of her. “I will in the morning,” she replied, thinking of Pop and how it wasn’t good for him to get off his sleep schedule.

  “That’s good.”

  Ava nodded. Daisy was right.

  It was time.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  As Emilio pulled up to the house, Ava recognized all the cars parked out front and groaned inwardly. Just because she had to do this, didn’t make it any easier. Shooter Sullivan’s truck was there, as well as Calla’s Mustang and even Zoey’s Mercedes. She felt a fresh pang of guilt that they might have to postpone their respective honeymoons.

  Emilio solemnly held the door for her. He looked as though he were attending a funeral, and for all Ava knew, he was. In the living room, they were all gathered. Sullivan and the man they referred to as Doc. Pop, Adam, and Dalton. Even Jonah was there. Calla and Zoey were crying and that made Ava feel the worst.