Phoenix Burn (From the Ashes Trilogy Book 1)

by Karina Espinosa

  I couldn’t die. Not like this.

  My free hand fell to the grimy club floor and I tried to hold myself up. I was going to black out soon. As I peered up at the monster, I saw the asshole from the VIP area standing right behind him.

  Mr. Asshole flung the monster across the room as if he weighed nothing and then turned to the others who still surrounded me. I lacked the strength to turn around and see what was happening, but I heard a series of grunts and groans, followed by a loud thump that would have made me jump if I’d had the strength.

  I focused my waning energy on staying awake, feeling the need to tell someone my real name so they could tell my family what really happened to their daughter, their sister.

  I pushed shallow breaths from my ruined lungs and struggled to see through the blackness that crept ever larger across my vision. The arm that was holding me up started to shake, and I knew I would collapse any minute now.

  My arm gave out, but instead of hitting the ground, I fell into a pair of arms. When I craned my head to look, I saw the asshole crouched behind me.

  “You,” I muttered.

  “Me,” he responded. “Let’s get you out of here.”

  “M-My n-name—” I stuttered as I inhaled deeply.

  “You can tell me your name later. Just close your eyes.”

  “Ca—“ I tried to tell him my real name, but all I could manage was one syllable. My head flopped to the side and my gaze locked onto the floor, seeing the delicate, dark petals of the black dahlia I’d flung earlier crushed under so many rampaging feet. Then everything went dark.

  The sheets were so buttery soft, I couldn’t help but rub my legs against the mattress a few times, a moan escaping me from the luxuriant feel. I peeled my eyes open to see the sun streaming in from the massive window on the other side of the room. It was a window I didn’t recognize. On second thought, I didn’t recognize the sheets, either.

  I sat up quickly and realized I was in an unfamiliar bedroom. It was enormous, with a king-sized bed and a walk-in closet to my left, filled with men’s clothing. From the woodsy smell of the sheets, I deduced I was lying in a man’s bed.

  I wore a black t-shirt that wasn’t my own, and quickly pulled it up to find a massive bandage taped over my abdomen. I peeled the tape off and steeled myself as I looked down at what I anticipated would be a gruesome sight, but my skin was completely blemish free and healed. Not a scratch in sight, yet the bandage still had my blood on it.

  How the hell could I be healed already? I knew I didn’t imagine what happened at the club. Where the heck was I?

  I swiveled my head around to survey the rest of the space and noticed two doors. Both were open, but the one located at the end of the room was open the widest and provided a glimpse of a bathroom. From what little I could see from my vantage point on the bed, the room was huge and full of expensive upgrades and materials that must have cost thousands. Shaking my head at the extravagance, I re-bandaged my so-called wound and crawled out of bed, thankful to see I was still wearing my underwear. I crept over to the other door that was slightly ajar.

  It led to a dimly lit hallway that was a complete contrast to the bedroom in which I’d just awakened. Whereas the bedroom was modern chic, the hall was more old-fashioned, decorated with historical treasures, maps, and portraits hanging on its walls.

  I tiptoed down the corridor, bypassing many closed doors. Gently rattling the knobs, I found that they were all locked. As I neared the end of the hallway, I heard the pop and sizzle of something cooking and followed my nose to the kitchen, where I cautiously peered inside.

  Standing there in a pair of low-slung sweatpants was the asshole from the nightclub. His messy hair was dark brown, not black as I assumed during our first meeting, and he was eerily pale, which I attributed to a serious lack of vitamin D. But paleness aside, he definitely worked out. Every muscle was defined and seemed to be sculpted out of marble, flexing with each step he took. That body could only be carved by the gods—

  “You can come in, you know,” he said without turning around.

  I sucked in a breath and pulled the shirt down to cover myself further. I scanned the grandiose kitchen full of gleaming appliances and wide, uncluttered counters. Hell, this one room was bigger than my entire crappy apartment.

  “Are you hungry?” He flipped something in a skillet and turned around to face me. Spatula in hand, his sparkling green eyes narrowed in on me and I felt frozen in place.

  “W-What?” I stuttered lamely.

  His full lips flattened into a tight line. “Are you at a loss for words, Ms. Cruz?”

  That snapped me out of my hazy fog. “How the hell do you know my name?” Granted, it was my fake name, but whatever.

  “I asked about you the first night we met. Any other questions?” He crossed his arms over his chest and waited for my answer.

  “Why am I here?”

  His nostrils flared and he sighed as he turned back around to the stove. “You were injured last night.”

  “You could have taken me to a hospital—”

  “They wouldn’t have known what to do,” he said easily.

  “What are you, a doctor?”

  Silence stretched between us before he replied, “Something like that. You should let me take a look at your wounds. You’re going to need new bandages.” He placed the spatula on the counter and turned around.

  My hands darted to my abdomen. “I’m fine!” I shouted louder than I intended. Working to modulate my voice and affect a casual, non-maniacal air, I followed up with, “I mean, it’s okay, I can do it on my own.”

  If I let him see my stomach, he would see the wounds were gone. I didn’t know how to explain it. I couldn’t. Especially not to a stranger.

  He raised a questioning brow. “Very well.” Then he nodded toward the bar that was ringed by stools. “Have a seat. Breakfast is ready.”

  I didn’t immediately move as I debated whether to run out of there in my underwear or just sit down and have a meal. My stomach made the choice for me when it started to growl. I cautiously walked over to the bar and took a seat on one of the stools.

  “What’s your name?” I asked. He hadn’t introduced himself yet; all I knew was that his last name was Monroe and I referred to him as Mr. Asshole in my head. It was surreal to be there, and I was getting some strong Stranger danger! vibes. I had to find a way out of there soon. For all I knew, he was a serial killer who abducted girls from clubs and fed them breakfast. And while my theory of being bullet proof was proving to be true—I was obviously scratch resistant, too—I still wasn’t ready to test my theories and get another bullet to the dome.

  “Tristan,” he answered, walking over to the counter with a plate full of food and placing it before me. “I’m surprised you didn’t ask about me.”

  I snorted. “Don’t think so highly of yourself. After that night, I didn’t think twice about you. I have more important things to worry about.”

  Tristan chuckled, and his smile was so bright it was blinding. “Oh, really? And what might those things be?”

  I frowned. “That’s none of your business.”

  “Right,” he taunted. “I bet you’re very busy.”

  It was my turn to give him a sly smile. “You have no idea,” I murmured. Then I began stuffing my mouth with food so I couldn’t speak.

  Tristan watched me with curious eyes, but I refused to look his way. The last thing I wanted to be was interesting. After this, we would part ways and I would never see him again, because after last night’s attack, I was putting in my resignation at NightCrawlers. If that was the big thing that was supposed to happen, then it was a bust and Nick’s resources weren’t working out.

  “What you saw last night—” he began.

  “I didn’t see anything,” I interrupted. I wasn’t going to get mixed up in whatever gang feud he was in with those … monsters. I still couldn’t explain what I saw or what that man became. The fear of being attacked must have made me h
allucinate or something, because there was no way that man actually became a … a beast.

  “Are you sure?” Tristan raised a brow as if he didn’t believe me. “If you did—”

  “I swear!” I looked anywhere but at him. Just being in this place with him made me nervous. Tristan was obviously a wealthy man, but whether he was a drug dealer or into other less nefarious stuff, I didn’t want any part of it. I had my own problems to worry about.

  After I was done eating I attempted to wash the dishes, but Tristan stopped me, placing a hand on my arm. His skin felt like ice and I shivered at the unearthly temperature heralded by his proximity.

  “No need to wash them.”

  “Okay.” I backed away, toward the bedroom I’d been in. “I guess I should be going now. Thanks for, uh … breakfast and everything.”

  “Where do you think you’re going?” Tristan asked, and my stomach dropped.

  “W-What?” I choked.

  “If you’re looking for your things, they’re in my study. And the exit is this way,” he pointed behind him.

  I exhaled loudly. I thought he was going to trap me in his house. “Oh … okay.”

  “Let me take you home, Ms. Cruz.”

  “No!” I exclaimed, my eyes wide. I didn’t want him to know where I lived. I got very strange vibes from Mr. Assho – Tristan, and nothing about him or this experience made me trust him. More than anything, I felt the insatiable need to get out of there. “I can get home on my own.”

  “Suit yourself.”

  4

  I’d spent the whole night and all the next morning at Tristan’s. I couldn’t believe I’d slept that much. Admittedly, I was passed out during most of it, but still. Tristan lived in a penthouse all the way out in Marina del Rey, so all I wanted to do when I got home was remove the useless bandage, shower, and put on clean clothes before I headed back out. Unfortunately, I had to take public transportation back to the club to get my car first and then drive home before I could do any of those things.

  Evening was quickly approaching, and I had just enough time to grab my car and head to the Valley to see my family. I parked in my usual spot and ducked down right as they started to arrive home.

  My mom was the first to arrive. She exited her car and dragged herself inside with a slumped posture, seeming as if she held the weight of the world on her shoulders. Seeing my mom always hurt the most because it reminded me of our last words to one another. Every day since, I felt an immeasurable sense of regret for my last words, coupled with the fact I never got to tell her I loved her. And now, she probably thought I was dead. I felt like the worst daughter ever.

  My sister Carmen arrived with my brother Carlos about twenty minutes later, but instead of going in, they hung out in front of the house for a while. My sister had the same unruly curls as I once did before I put keratin in my hair and lost them. Her ringlets were wild and beautiful, and she always did funky hairstyles with them. My siblings and I looked so much alike, with the same olive skin tone and brown eyes. Well, except for my brother’s ears that stuck out like our dad’s, which had earned him the nickname ‘Dumbo’ many years prior. It always pissed him off.

  God, I missed them so much.

  I was watching them intently, reminiscing on childhood memories and making sure no one suspicious was lurking around the house, when the passenger door to my car swung open and someone jumped in.

  Tristan.

  He sat there in a pair of dark washed jeans and a form-fitting black t-shirt. His dark hair was perfectly mussed, and his emerald eyes were playfully focused on me.

  “What the hell?” I whisper-yelled. “What are you doing here?”

  “I could ask you the same thing,” he said, looking at me oddly as I sat in my car, slumped in my seat and trying not to be seen. “What are you doing?”

  “Are you stalking me now?” I knew there was something fishy about this guy.

  “No, I was checking to make sure you were okay after your injury, and then I found you doing some shady shit.”

  I glared at him. “This is none of your business,” I gritted through my teeth.

  “Are you spying on those two over there?” He pointed in the direction of my brother and sister and I swatted his hand down. He was going to blow my cover.

  “Will you stop!?”

  “I’ll stop when you tell me what’s going on.”

  “Why do you care? Just go away!” I tried to shove him out of the car, but it was as if he were made of stone. He didn’t even budge. What the hell?

  “Are you a jealous girlfriend or something?” He tilted his head and observed me carefully, a smirk playing on his lips.

  “Ew, gross!” I shrieked. Those were my siblings he was talking about. “No! I’m not!”

  “Then what are you up to?” He looked between me and my siblings. “Your behavior doesn’t make much sense, Ms. Cruz.”

  I wanted to strangle this man. I was the one not making sense? He was the one following me! I just saw him this morning. How the hell did he even know where I was? I should be calling the police, but if I did that, then they would find out who I was and my whole plan would go up in flames.

  “Why are you following me?” I gritted.

  “Your injury,” he said. “There are consequences to it. Trust me, you’re going to want me around.”

  I frowned. “That makes absolutely no sense. It was just a scratch.”

  He shook his head. “It was much more than a scratch. I’ll explain it to you, but first, tell me why you’re here, or I’ll go over there and tell them you’re watching them.” Tristan pointed to my brother and sister, who were laughing at something. He grinned at me mischievously as if he had me in his snare. I slapped his hand down again before we were caught.

  There was no way in hell I was telling this complete stranger what I was doing. I wasn’t stupid. Besides, if I told him, that would lead to other questions I couldn’t answer … like, how the hell I was still alive. I refused to be a lab rat for anyone, and I was pretty sure if anyone found out I couldn’t die, they’d stick me in a laboratory and start sticking pins in me. However, maybe there was a way I could skirt the truth …

  “My friend died six months ago,” I started, nodding my head toward my siblings. “That’s her family. I’m trying to find her murderer.”

  It wasn’t a total lie. Fine. Yeah, it was a lie, but fuck it, I didn’t know this man and I wasn’t obligated to tell him shit. He just hopped in my car demanding shit. I wasn’t going to tell him dick.

  Tristan ran a hand through his hair and remained silent for a moment. He didn’t look a day over thirty, but there was something in his eyes that told me he was much older. I got the impression he’d seen some stuff in his life. Probably because he was into some seriously illegal shit, which meant I was stuck in the car with a depraved criminal. Just my luck.

  “I can help you,” he finally said. “Find your friend’s killer, that is.”

  I snorted. “I don’t need your help. Thanks.”

  He turned in his seat to face me. “I have resources you don’t, Ms. Cruz. You should take my offer.”

  “I have my own resources,” I smarted, fighting the urge to roll my eyes at my bravado. My current resources consisted of Nick, and he was shit at the moment.

  “Ms. Cruz, I have someone in the police department who can assist … no questions asked.” He eyed me. “If that’s what you’re worried about.”

  My attention snapped to him and I glared. Of course that was what I was worried about, but how the hell did he put that together? Maybe I was acting like Shady McShadypants, but still. He was far shadier than me!

  My gaze narrowed on him. “Why do you want to help?” Over the last six months, I’d become suspicious of everyone, aware that each person had their own motives and agenda. And from what I’d found, help didn’t come free.

  He grinned. “I’ll need a favor from you soon. When the time comes, I’ll let you know.”

  I shook my head
vehemently. “No. No way. I know better than to make open-ended deals. What is it that you need?”

  His nostrils flared and he sighed. “Fine, I’ll tell you, since you’re being so difficult. Because of your … scratch, someone will be coming for you in the coming days. Let me be your … advocate.”

  I looked at him with my mouth ajar, staring as if he were the stupidest person on the planet. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” I muttered. “What is it with you and that scratch?”

  He cleared his throat. “Do we have a deal, Ms. Cruz?”

  “Fine,” I sighed. “Whatever.”

  “Good.” He flattened his hand over his shirt, smoothing the nonexistent wrinkles. “Now let’s get out of here. You’re not going to get any leads watching your friend’s house. Head downtown. I know someone.”

  To say I was nervous was putting it mildly. I had a possible serial killer in my car, whom I was driving to parts unknown, and I couldn’t call for help because, well, I was supposed to be dead. What a conundrum.

  I drummed my fingers uncontrollably on the steering wheel and gnawed on my bottom lip as I followed his directions, winding along the streets toward downtown Los Angeles.

  “Turn on Sixth street and find parking,” Tristan commanded, and I did as he said with the same intensity as if he were holding me at gunpoint. Why I was so scared, I had no clue. I was freakin’ bulletproof!

  I eventually found a parking spot and we exited my car. “Where are we going?”

  “The police station. My friend is a detective,” he said over his shoulder as he started walking briskly down the sidewalk.

  “What?” My jaw fell and I quickly hurried to catch up to him. “I can’t go inside a police station!” I whisper-yelled as I craned my neck and surveyed the area, hoping no cops were around.

  “And why is that, Ms. Cruz?” He continued to walk ahead of me while I trailed behind him, trying to keep up with his longer strides.

  “Because … I just can’t! Oh my God, Tristan, you’re gonna be the death of me,” I murmured. “Seriously, stop!” I grabbed the back of his shirt and tried to stop him, but all I succeeded in doing was digging my heels in the concrete so that he dragged me down the street. I nearly tripped over my own feet. “Jesus Christ!”