Breaking It All: A Hellfire Riders MC Romance (The Motorcycle Clubs)

by Kati Wilde

  With a tortured groan, I drop to my knees in front of her. Her arms and legs are taped, her mouth covered. Her jaw is swollen, her cheekbone a vicious red even in the dark.

  And she’s naked in this goddamn freezing house.

  Rage and agony forge my lungs into hot iron, each breath burning. “Anna, sweetheart. I’m so sorry.” The words are gravel, my throat scraped raw. “I’m so damn sorry. Let me get you out.”

  I reach for the tape over her lips. There’s no help for this, no way to stop it from hurting. The only thing I can do is make it quick. I rip the tape off. Her head falls forward and she drags in air, her hiccuping sobs shuddering through swollen and bloodied lips.

  The sight crushes my heart all over again. Shattered from the inside out, I pull my knife from my boot, pop the blade.

  “Try to stay still, baby. I’m going to cut this tape away. Ah, Jesus.” Her hands are like ice. Briskly I rub my left palm down her legs, trying to warm her skin while I carefully slice through the gray tape around her wrists. “Talk to me, sweetheart. Tell me you’re okay.”

  She doesn’t—or can’t. Her body shakes violently and I don’t know how much is from the shock and how much from the cold. I can barely fucking breathe and only knowing that she needs to hear a friendly voice keeps me talking instead of howling in anger and pain. With soft murmurs, I try to soothe her as I peel away the last wrap of tape.

  The second she’s free, I pull her into my arms. She comes without resisting, burying her cold face against my neck. Her slim form weighs nothing when I slip my arm under her knees and lift her against my aching chest.

  Faint streaks of blood stain her inner thighs. More dark drops stain the pale upholstery of the chair’s seat. The agony in my chest swells and hardens into sheer rage as it rises, sharpening on my tongue.

  “I’ll kill them for hurting you,” I swear to her. “I will fucking end them.”

  Even if means finding another way to get to Stone.

  Her body wracked by shivers, she nods against my shoulder. Jesus, I’ve got to get her warm. I start toward the bedroom but a ragged cry from Anna stops me.

  “The phone,” she says frantically, twisting in my grip to look for it. “I need my phone.”

  I spot the phone on the floor by the chair. The second I give it to her the tension seeps out of her body and she sinks into my arms again. I expect her to make a call but she just clutches it to her chest as I carry her to her bedroom, a route I’ve taken in my mind a thousand times but never traveled before.

  “We’re going to get you warm, then get you to the hospital, all right?” I pull back the blankets and slide her in. She stares mutely up at me from the pillows, and the dull light in her eyes rips through my gut. All the sparkle is gone. As if she’s broken. “Just don’t move. I’m going to call Zoomie and Jenny.”

  She’ll need her friends. Women who can help.

  “I don’t need a hospital.” She drags the comforter up to her chin, still clutching her phone. Her voice is a rasping whisper. “And don’t tell Jenny. Not today.”

  After her dad’s funeral. “You want me to contact your folks?”

  I should anyway. Clara will be able to help her more than anyone else.

  A shake of Anna’s head stops me.

  “Sweetheart—”

  “No.” The response is hoarse but firm. “I expect the Riders to take care of this.”

  It won’t be the Riders. “I’ll do it myself.”

  Her trusting nod is a kick in my chest. I step out of the room, pulling out Stone’s phone. Another glance at the photo—my first look at the timestamp—has me gritting my teeth against the anguish tearing through my soul.

  Three hours. She was taped to that chair for three fucking hours. While I was sitting on my ass at the clubhouse and feeling sorry for myself, she was sitting here freezing. Sitting here bleeding.

  Maybe thinking I wasn’t coming for her.

  My throat’s a solid knot as I send a text to Blowback. Stone’s place. Haul ass. Bring Z. He and Zoomie left the clubhouse a while ago. They’re probably already in town and they’ll get the message. I’m about to send the prez a text when I hear the shower start up.

  I head back in. In the master bath, Anna stands naked in front of her glass shower stall, her eyes dull, body shaking, teeth chattering. With one hand she tests the water temperature. In the other, she’s still holding her phone.

  Snagging a thick towel from the shelf, I slip it around her shoulders. “Anna. Sweetheart, wait until later for this.”

  “But I’m s-so c-c-cold.”

  “I know.” My voice is thick, broken. “But at the hospital they might want to take samples, make sure there’s no diseases—”

  “I w-wasn’t r-raped. And I don’t n-need a hospital.”

  In denial. I sweep my hand up and down her arms. “There’s blood on the seat—”

  “From my p-period. He would have raped m-me. B-but my uterus s-saved the day.”

  It’s a toneless response. She pulls out of my grip when she’s done, placing the phone beside the sink and stepping into the shower, where she curls in on herself. Her arms go around her middle as she bows her head beneath the stream of water, as if she’s trying to contain all the hurt.

  I drag off my boots and kutte and follow her in fully clothed. Maybe she wasn’t raped but she doesn’t need a naked man pressing up against her now. I draw her back against my chest and she seems to soften against me, as if the hot water and my warmth are melting the brittle ice inside her.

  My arms circle her slender form in a tight embrace. And I swear to God, I’m never going to let her go. Because if I’d been holding onto her? If I’d been here?

  They’d never have touched her.

  But instead I left her alone. I left her vulnerable.

  “I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” I tell her hoarsely. “This shouldn’t have happened. I should have ended it a long time ago.”

  Another shudder wracks her body. Her head’s bowed and her wet hair is streaming down the sides of her head in a thick curtain. “I’m okay.”

  Okay? Probably not. Brave? No fucking doubt. “Anna—”

  “He just slapped me around a little. Taped me up. I’m okay.” I can’t see her face but her voice sounds stronger. Her body shudders again. “And I knew you’d see the message he sent.”

  My chest hitches against her back and I bury my face against her wet hair. “When I saw that picture—”

  “Probably not my best, was it?” She turns in my arms and her shattered gaze lifts to mine. Her eyelashes are clumped into wet spikes. Tears fill her eyes and her voice chokes up. “And you came. Even though I told you to stay away—”

  “Stop right there.” Gently I cushion her bruised face between my palms. “I’ll always come for you.”

  Her tears spill over but a wavering smile curves her lips. The sparkling gold in her eyes lights again, and the broken pieces inside me all slide into place.

  Anna’s here in my arms. And there’s not a force on this earth that could have stopped me as I lower my head. No force except Anna. But instead of pushing me away, she closes her eyes when I kiss the salty tears from her cheeks. I dip lower and her mouth lifts to meet mine. Tenderly I kiss the corner of her mouth. A broken sigh trembles from between her swollen lips.

  This is what I should have done before. I died in that brewery. Not when she told me to stay away, but when I lied and said she wasn’t anything more. When I denied who I am.

  And I’m hers. I’ve always been hers.

  I could have shown her, told her with a kiss. Instead I covered myself in the filth of my lies like tossing dirt onto my own grave. But I tell her the truth now, softly tasting her mouth, giving her my strength, offering my heart, and with every touch, every breath, I begin living again.

  I’ve got more to tell her, though. Because I’ve always been hers. But now…nothing will stop me from making her mine.

  Her lips part beneath the stroke of my tongue. Her
fingers curl into my biceps, a low moan reverberating in her chest. I deepen the kiss, claiming her mouth, claiming her—but gently, because she’s bruised and naked. Slamming her up against the tile and fucking her would hurt her, scare her.

  I’ll always protect her, even if that means protecting her from myself.

  So I’ll be patient. I’ve waited this long; waiting a little longer is nothing. I won’t scare her away by rushing in too fast, by claiming her too quickly. She doesn’t love me—because says she doesn’t know me. So I’ll show her who I am. I’ll bring Stone home, and give her everything she needs to trust me again.

  She wants a future? I’ll be that future.

  Whatever it takes.

  But for now, it will take time—and by the faint rumble of the approaching engines that I’m hearing over the noise of the shower, we’ve run out of it.

  Reluctantly I raise my head. Her cheeks are flushed, her eyelids heavy with arousal. Slowly she looks up at me, the light still in her eyes, soft and warm and glazed with need, a starburst of deep gold and brown.

  I stroke my thumb along her jaw, feel the shiver that races over her skin. That shiver’s not from the cold. “Got you heated up now?”

  A little laugh breaks from her, then she bites her swollen lip, her wondering gaze searching mine. Maybe asking what I meant by that kiss. But she’s got reason not to trust my words now. So I’ll just show her and keep showing her, until she’s ready to believe me when I say she owns my heart. Until she’s ready to be mine.

  And then I’ll never let her go.

  But I’ve got to let her go now. She tenses in my arms, gaze darting to the bathroom door. Blowback’s standing there. His empty eyes meet mine. I shake my head, answering his wordless question.

  There are no bodies to get rid of. Not yet.

  Zoomie strides into the bathroom, tucking away her gun. “Anna! Oh shit, honey.” Her gaze slides across Anna’s bruised face. “Who did this?”

  “I’ll tell you”—her voice is still raw as she turns off the water—“as soon as I get dressed. Will you bring me one of those towels?”

  Zoomie steps forward, gently wrapping her up in the thick bath sheet. As soon as she’s got Anna secured, she grabs another towel and tosses it at my head.

  Her flinty gaze rakes down my dripping form. “You got clothes at Stone’s?”

  Probably. “I’ll find something.”

  “Will you let Daisy out, too?” Anna picks up her phone, clutches it tight in one hand and the folds of her towel in the other. “I didn’t get a chance. She’s probably desperate by now. Or hiding under his bed in shame.”

  Didn’t get a chance. My jaw clenches and I see Zoomie’s face tighten. But her hands are gentle as she picks up another towel, starts rubbing Anna’s long wet hair.

  “Go on,” Zoomie tells me. “We’ll meet you in the kitchen. And make her—Anna, do you want coffee or something stronger?”

  “Something stronger.”

  Definitely something stronger. Because when she learns who came after her, I don’t know if she’ll ever let me touch her again.

  14

  Anna

  Stronger is coffee that smells as if it’s half whiskey. Blowback plonks the steaming mug in front of me when I sit at the breakfast table. His hard gaze searches my face before lifting over my head to look at Lily. Probably thinking the same thing she and Gunner did. They saw my dress and panties on the floor and assumed the worst.

  It could have been the worst. But it wasn’t. And now I’m dressed again in my favorite Stanford hoodie and fluffy gray pajama pants, my hands wrapped around a mug of hot coffee, my phone tucked away in the pouch of my sweatshirt. I know Stone won’t call right away. But it feels like a lifeline connecting me to him—that as long as I keep my phone nearby, he’s going to come home all right. I just pray that Gunner can get word to him about what happened before he sees the video of that bastard slapping me.

  I take a sip and almost choke. I was right—half whiskey. The alcohol stings my busted lip but the warmth spreads right through me.

  I’m warm all over. I have been since Gunner kissed me.

  Why did he? Gingerly, I touch my bottom lip. Holding me, warming me, supporting me—those weren’t a surprise. But his kiss was. Not because his lips pressed to mine. Even that might have simply been an attempt to soothe me.

  But he kissed me as if I was everything. Only hours after he told me I’m nothing.

  And I don’t know what to think anymore.

  I glance over as he pushes through the mudroom door, Daisy at his heels. His gaze immediately zeroes in on my eyes before dropping to my fingertips, still pressed to my lips.

  He doesn’t look at me the same way he did only a few hours ago, either. The intensity in his crystalline eyes has always been there, but now it’s sharper, hotter—and burns with an intent I can’t read. But just one look and my heart pounds at a dizzying speed.

  Then Daisy’s on me, wriggling and wagging, shoving her boxy head against my arm, licking my fingers with her quick tongue. Suddenly tears threaten again. Oh god. I set down my coffee and grab her big dumb head, scratching her ears and letting her slobber kisses all over my face. I’m almost crying over such a stupid little thing—a dog demanding kisses. A stupid little thing…but so important and incredible to be the recipient of such unreserved love and joy. I should never take these things for granted. But I have. So often.

  “She was okay?” I ask, looking to Gunner.

  Unsmiling, he nods and leans back against the center island. His dark hair is still wet but he found a pair of loose sweatpants and a thin white T-shirt that clings to his broad chest. “She left a mess,” he tells me in a voice I barely recognize. Rough like gravel, his sculpted features like stone—and his glacial eyes devouring me whole. “But it doesn’t look like they ever got over to that part of the house.”

  “Good.” I give her another scratch and rub my face against her doggy forehead. But although I’d love to do nothing but this, I can’t put the rest off. I take a deep breath. “So you want a step by step?”

  “Yes.” Blowback’s the one who answers me, taking the seat adjacent to mine, the sheer size of him seeming to emit a gravitational force that draws my gaze to the emptiness of his dark eyes. Empty like outer space, and Lily is the bright star burning through that cold vacuum as she props her ass against the edge of the table beside him.

  “Everything you can remember,” she says.

  “Okay.” I clear my suddenly dry throat, darting a glance at Gunner. His expression is still hard, but his body has gone rigid as if he’s bracing himself—or preparing to look into the depths of Hell. “Daisy was barking when I got here. But I assumed she just had to be let out—because I didn’t see any cars or bikes around. So if he parked, maybe it was around behind the house or the garage? Or maybe he parked down the road and he walked in. But farther west, because I didn’t pass any vehicles parked alongside the road after I drove through town.”

  “‘He,’” Gunner echoes, his brows drawing down with his frown. “Just one man?”

  “Just one. He was on me as soon as I got through the door. I just saw a shadow coming and bam!”—I aim a fist at my jaw and mime a punch—“I went down.”

  A grating sound comes from Gunner. I glance over and he’s got his hands locked on the edge of the island counter, the tendons in his forearms standing in sharp relief, his face a bleak, tortured mask.

  “And then?” Blowback shoots a dark look at the other man.

  Taking another sip of the loaded coffee gives me time to picture the bastard and to beat back the surge of fear the memory conjures. “He was big. And he wore leather gloves and a ski mask. But he had dark brown eyes and—”

  “Brown?” Gunner stares at me. “Not blue?”

  “Brown,” I confirm.

  “You’re sure? They weren’t the same color as mine?”

  “Trust me that I would notice if his eyes were like yours,” I say dryly, then frown as he
drags in a sharp breath, his big body shuddering. “Why?”

  “Just keep going,” Blowback says but the look he gives Gunner is a warning. No more interruptions. I’m not even sure if Gunner notices. He’s staring at me as if still not believing what I just told him.

  “Then he told me not to move.”

  “Did he have an accent?”

  “No. Then he made me take off my coat.” My voice shakes and I wrap my fingers tighter around the mug, until Daisy whines and nudges my leg with her head. I scratch her ears and it’s easier to continue, “And I thought, he’s here to rape me. But then he said my brother’s too stubborn—that Stone needed persuading.”

  Gunner and Lily exchange a startled look. But there’s no surprise on Blowback’s face. “Persuade him to what?”

  “Fight.” I take a deep breath. “So I realized this was about the cage fight thing he and Gunner have been chasing down. Ever since those guys got to Lily.”

  Blowback turns and levels a hard stare at her.

  She holds up her hands. “I didn’t say anything. I told you. The brothers don’t keep their mouths shut.”

  “What else did he say about Stone?” Gunner’s utterly focused on me, ignoring the exchange between the other Riders.

  “Just that he needed to be persuaded. So I assumed the club business with that girl, Cherry, and whatever’s going on in Arizona—I assumed that really he got inside that fighting ring somehow, but he doesn’t want to kill someone in a death match. So I told the guy that hurting me won’t persuade Stone because he’ll assume I’m dead. He’ll assume that this fucker made his video and then killed me.”

  Gunner’s face whitens. “Yes. He would.”

  “So I said he needs to make a deal with Stone—that after he fights, Stone can call me and verify that I’m alive.”

  Blowback goes utterly still. “He’s going to call you after his fight?”

  “That’s what he said.” I’m shaking again. I bury my fingers in Daisy’s short fur. “But then he said that if Stone ever loses, he’s coming back for me. That I’m only alive as long as my brother is.”