Burning Ember

by Darby Briar

  Grinder and Taz wrestle Dozer and with a joint effort succeed in getting him a few feet down the hallway and then push him into a room and shut the door.

  Using the wall as leverage, I get to my feet.

  Griz comes out of Dozer’s room. Rage is firing in his eyes.

  I’ve seen this side of Griz twice in the ten years I’ve known him, once when Cap was shot and the other when some asshole nearly killed three of us because he changed lanes without looking. At this moment, he wants to kill me. If I want to stay breathing, I need to get the fuck out of his way. But I’m not sure if I want to stay breathing. I’m not sure I deserve to. There’s a special place in hell for assholes who abuse women. And part of me wants Griz to send me there.

  The punch comes fast and slams into my right jaw. Fire ignites through my face. I hiss, “Fuck,” as black spots flutter in my vision.

  “Blood for blood. She bleeds—you bleed. And maybe with enough hits to that thick fuckin’ skull of yours, you’ll start seein’ things more clearly.” He rubs his knuckles. “I don’t care what Lita says—it wasn’t her.”

  “I know,” I say as I spit and then use the back of my hand to wipe the blood from my lips.

  “It’s ’bout time you open your eyes and stop seein’ only what you want to see. Dana was a leech. A wiltin’ black rose. Fightin’ to hold off the reaper. Pumpkin’s a sweet fuckin’ girl who gives more than she takes. She’s just lookin’ for a place to land where someone will give a fuck about her. She’s fightin’ to survive. Give her a goddamn chance to.”

  Then he walks away.

  EMBER

  I sit on the edge of the bed, using Dozer’s bed sheet to staunch the bleeding, until Griz returns with the first aid kit. I’m still shaking. My heart’s attempting to take flight, like a nest of dragonflies trying to break free from my chest.

  What am I still doing here? I’m gambling with my life, playing a game I can’t win. It’s time to fold. Walk away.

  I groan and close my eyes. This is not your secret garden. This is a dead end.

  I thought Warner would be the death of me. It’s why I fought so hard to escape the handcuffs he kept me in while he was out of the house. His sadist tendencies had been escalating, and I knew if I didn’t get away, he’d take the only thing I had left. My life.

  Mav, in his drunken haze, nearly finished the job for him. Because all he sees is his past. His own pain. His own misery. Of the two personalities waging a war inside him—the old him is losing. The man Dana created when she left—is winning.

  I scramble up and go to the closet, dropping the sheet in the process. I find a gym bag. I shove all the clothes Lily stole and bought for me into the bag. I take the cash I’ve earned, and bend down to push it into my sock before slipping my tennis shoes on. All the while, I’m mentally planning my escape.

  I hear the door swing open and my heart lodges in my throat. A few seconds later, Griz stands in the closet doorway. His eyes fall on the bag in my hands. “Where you goin’, sweetheart?”

  “Away.”

  He approaches me cautiously.

  I flinch and draw back.

  “Shhh . . . I’m not gonna hurt ya,” he says in a placating tone. He holds up his hands and moves steadily closer. “Just let me patch you up. I got somethin’ to say. Hear me out before you go doin’ what I think you’re gonna do.” He reaches forward and takes the bag from my hand. “If you wanna leave after I’ve said my piece, you go right ahead. You got every right to do that.”

  He walks back into the room.

  I don’t know how much time passes, but it’s at least ten minutes before I cautiously exit the closet. Griz sits at the end of the bed with my bag by his foot on the floor. He pats the spot next to him. “C’mon, let me take a look at that slice on your neck.”

  I sit and say, “It won’t change anything.”

  He turns toward me, opens the first aid kit, and searches through it, pulling out items and placing them on the bed. “What’s that?”

  “Whatever it is you’re going to say, it won’t change anything.”

  “Maybe it won’t. But this old man has some skills with words. And you gotta get a bandage on that neck anyhow. So, how about instead of starin’ at this sourpuss face while I patch you up, I’ll talk and you can listen to my sexy voice instead.” The skin near his eyes crinkles.

  Against my will, I feel a small tug on my heartstrings.

  His movements are slow and careful. He holds the cloth with medicine on it up for me to see for a moment before he touches me. Then he pinches my chin and gradually lifts it to turn my head.

  “Motherfucker is gonna get another taste of my fist,” he mutters under his breath. “It’s not deep, but it might scar.” I hiss, because the cut burns as he disinfects it. He grumbles more threats and inspects the damage more closely. Then he dabs the cut with something that makes it sting yet again.

  I let out a small gasp of air. “I thought you were going to distract me with your sexy voice?”

  He chuckles.

  “I know what you’re thinkin’, sugar. That you’re not safe, ‘cause you think he’s gonna come after you again. I’m tellin’ you now, that won’t happen. Givin’ you my word. Somethin’ that’s ironclad. Mav’s gonna change his tune, even if I have to change it for him.”

  He coats the cut with some liquid using a Q-tip.

  “In no time you’ve warmed up to the people here and them to you. I’ve never fuckin’ seen somethin’ like that happen so fast. You fit here, sweetheart. And you got a lot of people here that want you here, whether Mav does or not. Shit, you got grown ass men settin’ alarm clocks just so they don’t miss out on your food and your pretty face each mornin’. Every last one of ’em is gonna kick the shit out of Ricky Boy if you disappear on us. You’ll be signin’ his death warrant.”

  He doesn’t really mean that, right? My chest is tight with emotion as his words funnel through me.

  “Are you trying to guilt me into staying?”

  He points at himself. “Me?” The side of his mouth curls up. “Honey, I’ll use whatever I got in my arsenal that’ll get you to stay. My sourpuss face, my sexy voice. Well, maybe not this smokin’ body.” He full out laughs. “But you get the picture.”

  He places gauze over the cut and starts taping it to my skin.

  “Plus a pretty little thing like you ain’t safe out there. Not alone. Here, you got a chance. A good one. You have some friends. Lily. And you got some mean ass men lookin’ out for ya. Me. Dozer. It could be more than that. But you leave. You’re never gonna know.”

  “Mav hates me, Griz. He looks for things to fault me on. He watches my every move. He twists everything I do into something ugly. And I’ve never done a goddamn thing to him. I know I look like his bitch of an ex, but can’t he see with his own eyes that we’re not the same person?”

  “First of all, good for you. I think that’s the first time I’ve ever heard you cuss. Means this place, these people are growin’ on ya.” He winks. “And second, he’s not watchin’ you all the time to find somethin’ wrong with what you’re doin’. Mav can’t take his eyes off you, and it don’t take a genius to know why. Last thing I’m gonna say darlin’ is that you might look like her, but anyone with a pair ‘a eyes can see you’re nothin’ alike. She was weak and manipulative. Sucked him dry of every ounce of happiness he had in him. She took and took like a fuckin’ leech. Never once gave him anything back.”

  “All you do is give, Pumpkin. Sooner or later he’s gonna see you for you and who you really are.”

  He tilts his head looking at my neck. “I haven’t doctored someone else’s wounds since my Marine Corp days, but even with my fumblin’ fingers and two left thumbs, it’ll do ya ’til tomorrow. Do this old man a favor though. Don’t head out tonight in the dark, bleedin’ with no place to go. I won’t get a lick of sleep if you do. You sleep on it and we’ll talk tomorrow. I’ll have the doc come and check you out, stitch you up. Then you can decide what yo
u’re gonna do. You wanna leave, then I’ll give ya a ride anywhere you wanna go.”

  He stands and goes to the bathroom. I hear the water turn on. He comes back a moment later drying off his hands with a small towel.

  Sleep on it. See the doctor and then go.

  My voice trembles when I ask, “What’s gonna happen to Lita?”

  Griz stares down at me. “You don’t worry about her. You worry about you. Why don’t you get cleaned up while I go down and get you some Tylenol?”

  I do my best to clean up while he’s gone. Wet a cloth and wash the blood from my skin as much as I can. I run some of my hair through the water and then towel dry it. Afterward, I change into a different set of pajamas. Ones that don’t make me look like I’ve been a victim of the Texas Chainsaw killer.

  The sheets are a mess so I pile them in the corner for now. I get in and sit against headboard while at the same time pulling the comforter over me. Griz comes back and hands me two Tylenol and a glass of water. He sits on the edge of the bed. After I take the pills, he gives me a warm smile and pats my arm.

  Such a fatherly thing to do.

  It strikes me that I could be looking at my father and not know it. He’s the right age. We have similar coloring, and he has green eyes.

  “Griz? What’s your real name?”

  He considers me for a moment. Understanding lighting up in his eyes. “Mick. Mick O’Brien.” I knew it was a one in a bazillion shot, but still the hope in my chest deflates and sadness flows through me.

  He frowns for a moment. “You know his name?” he questions as if he knows why I’m asking. I nod. We’re both quite for a moment.

  “What’s your name, sweetheart?”

  Can I trust him with the truth? My gut and my heart tell me yes. “My family calls me Em.”

  “For Emma?”

  “Ember.”

  A slow grin spreads across his face. “That’s a good name,” he says. “Strong name and you’re a strong girl. You keep fightin’ and you’re gonna make it. I guarantee it.”

  Then pushing on his thighs, he stands. “I’m gonna let you get some rest. My door’s just two doors down on the right. Come get me if you need anything.”

  He gives me one more nod and strides to the door. At the door, he opens it and then pauses before locking it and closing it behind him.

  I hear him say in harsh voice, one I’ve never heard Griz use before, “What did I tell you?”

  It’s Mav’s voice, thick with his accent that responds. “Chill the fuck out. I just want to apologize and make sure she’s okay.”

  I hear a click. Dead air follows. “You’re really goin’ to shoot me?”

  “Come any closer to this door tonight and you’re damn right I will.”

  Silence follows for a minute before I hear the sound of heavy footsteps stomping away.

  For the first night since coming here, I go to sleep with the door locked and the window closed because I need that little bit of barrier between me and the devil on the other side.

  Stop chasing the reaper. Turn around and let him chase you.

  MAVERICK

  I lost a lot of hard-earned respect tonight. Men who are supposed to be following me, men I’ve long considered brothers, are now questioning me, my judgment . . . my fucking sanity.

  They have every right to.

  I let the venom of hate I have for Dana fester and build until I’ve become somewhat of a snake myself.

  With my hands braced on the sink, I stare at the stranger in the mirror.

  My enlarged pupils make my eyes appear darker. Haunted. Bruises bloom across my face, and as I open my tender jaw, the gash on my lip splits open, causing blood and a coppery taste to spill into my mouth. I sheared off my hair all those years ago and every few weeks since, because I wanted to banish the man in me who’d fallen for a girl like Dana. The good guy she’d taken advantage of.

  I realize I’ve finally succeeded.

  I don’t see the man my parents raised anymore. The kid who attended church every Sunday. The guy who graduated at the top of his class, because learning came easy and he always had a knack for drawing steady lines and remarkable things. I don’t see the restless saint. The one who foolishly thought he could dip his foot in the river of sin and not get pulled under.

  The only good I see in my reflection is the biblical stories told on my arm, and the words of God inked on my chest. He discovers deep things out of the darkness and brings out to light the shadow of death. ~Job 12:22.

  Words that hold a whole new meaning for me now.

  My hands grip the ivory sink as regret washes over me. I clench my eyes shut. God . . . I’ve fucked up . . .

  I clung to a wiltin’ black rose. And instead of changing her, I let her change me.

  Now I’m drowning in darkness . . . And I’ve just attacked the only person who’s brought any color to my dark world.

  Doll.

  Yet I treat her like she’s Dana.

  One deserves the man I am now. The man she made me into. The other does not. Doll wasn’t the catalyst that changed me. Yet she’s the one dealing with the fallout.

  She’s just lookin’ for a place to land where someone will give a fuck about her. She’s fightin’ to survive. Give her a goddamn chance to.

  She’s fighting for a future. A future I almost took from her, because I was too lost in my own pain to see hers.

  Cap called it when I first told him I wanted to claim Dana as my property. He knew she’d wreck me. He said, “That girl doesn’t give a shit about her tomorrows. She’s got no plan. No dreams. Cares for nothin’ beyond what gives her a rush. She’s gonna drag you down, brotha. That’s not the kind a girl you should be claimin’.”

  Glancing down at my sleeve of tattoos, I see the redheaded Eve and rub my thumb over her face. I didn’t listen. I thought I’d found my Eve and I was ready to start my life.

  But I’m starting to think I just fell for the wrong redheaded girl. The fake replica, not the real thing.

  Pretty sure I’ve been coming to this conclusion for a while.

  Doll’s gotten under my skin and made me crave more from the first moment I met her. She’s in my dreams and my waking thoughts. In a sea of flesh, a den of sex and sin, her body is the only one I ache for, the only one I want touching mine. I haven’t dared to let her in or hope for more, because I know I can’t live through my life shattering around me a second time.

  But what if . . . what if this time it doesn’t fall apart?

  I stare into my eyes and try to find a speck of the man I was before. Because the one I see isn’t good enough for her.

  I can’t turn back time, and I can’t erase the monster Doll sees when she looks at me. But maybe . . . just maybe I can show her that’s not all I am or all I can be.

  A toy can only withstand so much before it breaks.

  EMBER

  More and more sunlight filters into the room. I keep meaning to get up, get downstairs, and start breakfast. After all, the guys are probably waiting on me, but I can’t. Not yet. I’m fighting the impulse to pull the covers over my head, hide away and act like the rest of the world doesn’t exist. Act like last night never happened.

  I feel drained.

  Energyless, if that’s even a word. I blame it on blood loss and lack of sleep.

  Closing my eyes after Griz left last night proved difficult. Each time I did, I relived Mav breaking into the room, his dark presence looming in the doorway, and how his face transformed with fury while he held the knife to my throat.

  Even now, my stomach twists with unease at the thought of seeing him today. My only hope is that like last night, he still feels remorseful. But his moods change like the current, fast and unpredictably, so who knows which version of him I’ll see today.

  Griz said Mav could change. That with time, he’d start seeing me for me. I’m not sure if that’s possible. He seems too hell bent on judging me for my similarities to his ex. I only know I can’t stay here if he�
�s going to continue threatening the two things I have left.

  My life and my freedom.

  What I left Warner to protect.

  Now, in the light of day, I’m a little more leery of leaving the clubhouse and trying my chances on the street. Maybe voluntarily diving back into that black abyss isn’t the smartest thing. I don’t know where I’ll sleep, or how long the money will last. I’ll be alone again, something I can’t stand to be, and jobless. And I’ll have to be careful. There’s still a chance someone could recognize me and turn me in. More of a chance if Davis follows through on his threat.

  After quite a bit of self-prodding, I finally force myself to leave the bed. I wince as my neck screams in protest with each small movement. I head into the bathroom and stop short when I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. It’s bad. Possibly worse than I feel. My hair is in knots and frizzy, and my eyes are glazed over. Even my skin looks pallid. Truth be told, I look like a doll.

  Yeah . . . a rag doll.

  Maybe not exactly a four-year-old’s plaything, but definitely something played with carelessly.

  Ragged. Marked. Certainly abused.

  A shower sounds like the perfect remedy though, so I stagger in, careful not to get my bandage too wet. And once dry, I dress in worn jeans, a loose gray T-shirt and leave my hair down so it can somewhat conceal my bandage.

  I’m prepared to find a bunch of hungry, angry bikers by the time I enter the main room, but that’s not what I find at all. No. Instead, I see HOCs laughing and stuffing their faces. Eating donuts. And Donut, himself, is attacking a cardboard box on the floor, shaking his head from side to side and the box with it. However, the jovial mood shifts as the guys notice me.

  I hate it. The attention. The pity. Their stares feel like worms under my skin. I try my best to play it off, but even I can hear the insecurity in my voice. “I leave you guys alone for a few hours and you’re already cheating on me. Figures.”

  Dozer walks toward me. He pulls me into him and circles his arms around me. I shift uncomfortably and expect someone to say something, but no one does. “Thought you could use a break this mornin’.”