Burning Ember

by Darby Briar

  I want nothing more in this moment than to undress the both of us, pull her to the middle bed, and wrap her around me. Pretend I never learned where she came from.

  I take two steps toward her, when movement and a red glow, the kind at the end of a lit cigarette, pulls my gaze to the shadowed corner. It takes a second for my eyes to adjust and for me to identify the man standing there. First by his cut, then his size, and lastly his features. When I do, my spine snaps straight.

  “Mav,” Ember says with surprise and slowly rises to her feet. Her eyes, wide with fear, dart to Smoke behind her as she begins to wring her hands. “He’s uh . . . he knows my mother. He’s an old friend of hers, and we were . . . we were just catching up.”

  Her reaction reeks of guilt. Stunned, I simply unravel the reality of what I’ve failed to see.

  Every ounce of faith I was holding on to that Taz was wrong, evaporates like mist, and my memories start to rearrange themselves. Each one infected and remade with her true motivations.

  Why the fuck couldn’t I see it before?

  Because you forgot, red roses have thorns too.

  “He’s an old friend of hers?”

  “Yes.”

  “An old friend or her ex-husband?”

  Her eyes widen further and she sends a pleading look to Smoke like she’s seeking help on how to answer, or permission to answer.

  WHAT THE FUCK?

  The darkness I’ve tried to bury the last few days’, crashes into me. Turns my blood ice cold. Striding forward, I snake my hand into her hair and grip it. Use it to force her head back so her eyes lock with mine. I growl, “Don’t. Don’t you fuckin’ look at him. I asked you a question, and last I fuckin’ checked you were mine. So why the fuck would you look to him for an anything? Or is there somethin’ more going on that you need to tell me?”

  Smoke takes a step toward us. My voice thick, I grate out, “You stay right the fuck where you are. This is between me and her.”

  Ember places a hand on my arm. “I don’t know how to answer that.”

  Wrenching her head back, I snap, “How about with the truth! Is Dean Pierce your father?”

  She’s flinches and then fights to deny it. Her mouth opens and closes twice. When her shoulders deflate and eyes fill with defeat, I know I have my answer.

  Even so, I direct my question to Smoke. I want to hear him say it. I need somebody to.

  “Is he? And don’t lie to me or I’ll make sure any ties we have with the Greenbacks are cut, and the cleaning we do for you disappears.”

  “Yes,” Smoke sneers. “But you’ve got this all wrong, boy.”

  “I told you,” Taz voices behind me.

  I close my eyes and grind my jaw.

  Of course, he’d follow me.

  “She’s one of them. Been playin’ us from the start.”

  Opening my eyes, I turn to see his Glock aimed on Smoke. He moves fast across the room and shoves the barrel of his gun into Smokes temple.

  “Hold a gun to a man’s head, you better be ready for the blowback that’s gonna have,” Smoke growls.

  “I’m more than ready,” Taz responds as he clicks off the safety.

  “Mav.” Her small hand lands on my stomach, slides up, finds its destination over my heart.

  Peering down at her, my throat thick, I say, “Tell me the truth. Was it all an act?”

  Her mouth tightens and her brows draw together. “Jesus, Mav. Is that really what you think?”

  Grasping her arm, I shoot a pointed look at Smoke and then back to her. Digging my fingers into her wrist, I bark, “What the fuck else am I supposed to think?”

  She winces under my grip, and the anguish covering her features has me confused as fuck. So does her temper as it ignites. She yanks her arm away, and then shoves me back. Fire lights up in her eyes. “How about for once you give me the benefit of the doubt. How about you trust me like you said you did. How about you give me a damn second to explain.”

  “Then explain it to me, Doll. Make it make fuckin’ sense.”

  “No!” She shoves me again. “Don’t you see? I shouldn’t have to.” Her face is flushed red with anger, but a tear and then another fall down her face. “I’ve already told you everything. I showed you who I am. I’ve shared things with you that I never shared with anybody. And every chance you get you believe the worst of me.”

  “Do you know how bad this looks? Huh? Do you? I just find out he’s your father, and then I catch you in here meeting with him”—I point at Smoke—“behind my fucking back.”

  Shaking her head, her voice softens. “Did you ever really see me? Because if you did, you’d know I’m not capable of what you’re accusing me of.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me he was your father?”

  “Because I didn’t know!”

  “Bullshit.”

  “Believe what the fuck you want. You always do.”

  She closes her eyes, turns her head, as more tears trail down her face, and it fucking shatters me. “He was in here when I got out of the shower. I didn’t know he’d be here. And he wouldn’t let me leave.”

  “And I’m just supposed to believe that? Fuck, even if I did, the club’s not going to.”

  “All I have is my word. If that’s not good enough, then I guess we know where we stand.”

  “Dammit, T! Put the damn gun down!” Griz yells as he comes up behind me. “I knew you couldn’t resist comin’ in here and doin’ somethin’ stupid.”

  Smoke clears his throat. “Griz, they’ve got this all twisted. She’s not one of us. Before last night, I never even knew she existed. I saw her dance and couldn’t take my eyes off her. I’ve only seen one other woman dance like that and she looks just like her. I didn’t realize who’s she was until she told me her age.”

  I turn slightly to see Griz nodding like that makes complete fucking sense. I recall how Ember danced and how it was unlike anything I’ve ever seen before. Even in twenty, hell thirty years, yeah, I’d recognize it and be drawn in.

  “Does Pappy know?” Griz asks Smoke.

  “G, fuckin’ tell me you’re not believing this. This is bullshit,” Taz snarls.

  “Does he know I know? No. Does he know about her himself? I don’t think so. Don’t think she’d still be breathin’ if he did. He wouldn’t leave evidence out there of what he did. I expect that’s why Tessa kept her hidden from the both of us.”

  “You’re lying,” Taz growls. “Of course you fuckin’ knew. You’ve been usin’ her as your little whore and snitch from the moment she got here.”

  “Whore and snitch?” Ember whispers. “Is that really what you think I’m here to do, Luce? Open my legs and whore myself out to get information? So last night and today? That was about me getting in your pants so I could learn something valuable that the Greenbacks could use? Is that it? Tell me then, Luce, what exactly did I learn about the club while you were between my legs?”

  “Doll . . .”

  “Don’t even.” She won’t meet my eyes, and that’s when I know I’ve lost her.

  “You have to know how this looked.” My voice reeks of desperation.

  “You promised me you’d let me go if this didn’t work out. Was that a lie? Because I want to leave.”

  “I can’t let you do that.”

  “Why? You still don’t believe me? You need to question me some more? Maybe lock me up until you’re satisfied that I’m not a threat.”

  “Fuck!” I slam my fist into the wall and in doing so scare the fuck out of her. She lets out a yelp as if she thought I was aiming to hit her and darts away from me.

  “Don’t let her leave!” Taz swings the gun toward her.

  “Christ.” Griz snaps and moves Ember behind him. “T, have you lost your goddamn mind? Lower the fuckin’ gun!”

  I move in front of Griz and Ember. Do my best to block them both from Taz’s line of sight. “Put it away, T. That’s a fucking order.”

  But before Taz can even consider it, Smoke knocks
into him and grapples for the gun. Taz always with a finger heavy on the trigger, fires. Smoke finally knocks the gun from his grip and sends it skittering on the floor toward me.

  I pick it up and tuck it into the back of my jeans as I stride toward them. As I move in next to Smoke, he let’s go of Taz and throws him toward me.

  I in turn throw Taz up against the wall. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” I shake him once, twice, and then letting go, I shove him back again. I stare at him like I don’t know him at all. “You need to get your head fuckin’ right.”

  “Dammit, you stupid fucker! You shot me!” Griz growls. My gaze swings to him as he lifts his arm to show us where the bullet grazed his forearm. I immediately search behind him for Ember to make sure she’s not hit, but find the rest of the room empty.

  “Fuck!” I race to the door. Entering the hall, I’m met with a wall of HOCs. I cut through them as fast as I can. As I do, I spy blood on the wall. Fresh blood. The same height as Griz’s arm wound.

  Ember’s blood.

  “Shit! Move!” I yell as I push my way to the stairwell with my heartbeat pounding in my ears.

  Edge grabs me. “What the fuck’s goin’ on?”

  “I don’t have time to explain. Find Griz,” I shout as I take the stairs two at a time, and push bodies out of my way.

  God, what the fuck have I done?

  I hit the first floor and see a sea of women, but not one of them her, so I race out the front door and into the parking lot.

  It’s dark as fuck, and jogging forward I scan each person, bend to look under cars. When I still don’t catch sight of her, I head toward the gate.

  “Did she come through here?” I spit out at Rigor.

  He jumps, startled. “Who?”

  I nearly say Doll, but then I realize he won’t know who I’m talking about. “Pumpkin.”

  He slowly shakes his head. “No man. I haven’t seen her.”

  I spend ten more minutes searching the lot again. Pulling out my phone, I call the cell I gave her. I call it three times, and each time it goes directly to voicemail. Either she turned it off or the battery’s dead.

  When I get back inside, I question the girls in the main room. Lita tells me she saw her duck into the kitchen. Searching every inch of it, I find drops of her blood by the backdoor on the floor, which tells me she’s hit worse than Griz. But how badly, I don’t know and it turns my fucking stomach.

  The idea that she could be seriously injured makes me even more frantic to find her.

  I lose her trail in the dirt and in the dark behind the clubhouse. But spot it again a while later where she climbed the fence.

  When my brothers finally figure out what’s going on and come to help, I ask Rigor to head to Bethany’s and to call me immediately if she shows up. To my surprise, Dozer volunteers to go.

  “I’ll call you if Bethany hears from her,” he says as we exchange a look that says multiple things. I can trust him. The hatchet’s buried. He hopes I find her.

  The only one that doesn’t help is Taz. Edge found out what he did, and knocked him the fuck out. Had Grinder haul him to his room, to sleep off the crazy.

  The rest of us, at least those not too drunk to drive, comb the streets on our bikes. Somewhere between five and six in the morning, everyone else heads back, with a promise to help me search in the morning. But I keep looking.

  Throughout the night and again at dawn, I check in with Dozer only to find out Ember never showed, and Bethany hasn’t heard from her.

  I don’t give up. How can I, when she’s out there somewhere injured and bleeding? Fucking barefoot. She doesn’t have a dime on her, and the last time she had anything to eat was hours and hours ago.

  This isn’t about getting her back so she can explain herself to the club anymore. This is about finding her before I lose her for good.

  I don’t blame her for running. Not when I did what I promised I wouldn’t do. Hurt her. Threatened to keep her here against her will just like the last monster she ran from. Then Taz goes and aims a goddamn gun at her. Threatens her survival.

  How can I blame her for running when she’s only doing what she does best?

  Because if my girl’s anything, she’s a survivor.

  Random events only make sense in the mists of chaos.

  EMBER

  I’d thought it more than once, but it was never truer than it is now.

  I wish I’d never come here. I wish I’d never taken the help Lily offered. I wish I’d never seen his face. I wish I’d run when he’d given me the chance to.

  Because then I wouldn’t have to live with this torment, the knowledge and memory of what a taste of a life with him could have been like, and how he had the ability to melt me with a kiss, burn me with a touch, and bring my body to life with his.

  Then I wouldn’t have to experience this kind of pain. Not only the blinding pain shooting up my body from the wound on my side, but the ache of my heart curling in on itself. Withering and fading.

  Was it all an act? When those words fell from his lips, it felt like he’d reached into my chest and squeezed my heart, stopped it from beating.

  After everything I’d told him, showed him, and after everything that we shared, he thought I could be a whore and a snitch for another club. That I was acting when I let down my guard and gave myself to him. When I told him about the hell I went through with Warner, about Will and having to drop out of school, and how my mother left Sunny and me.

  God . . .

  I grieved with him when he showed me the wreckage of his past. I comforted him when he told me about his dreams of a family and being a father. I’d cried for the precious baby he lost.

  Did he even stop to consider that I never once asked him anything about the club besides how long he’d been a member and why he joined? Or how the more I was with him, the less I was at the clubhouse. Which meant I wasn’t there overhearing every tidbit the members conversed about when they thought no one was listening. Why would I want to be anywhere but at the clubhouse if getting information on them was my goal?

  It wasn’t until Smoke explained why he’d come into his room, that I saw Mav’s doubts waning. But the damage was done. My faith lost. He didn’t trust me, and that hurt more than anything else.

  Because I trusted him.

  I’d given him a second chance when he didn’t deserve one. I had faith he’d change when I didn’t have any reason to. I believed he could be a better man even though he’d only shown me his worst.

  So I have only myself to blame.

  I mean, I’d learned this lesson already, hadn’t I? That a man with two faces isn’t one I can trust. That putting myself in their path invariably ends with my blood being split, and running for my life.

  Well if I hadn’t then, I definitely have learned it now as I wince and whimper with each movement. Failing miserably to keep my blood inside my body where it belongs, and brace with every step for the consistent prickly sting that shoots through my foot, courtesy of the cut I received from a broken beer bottle in the field behind the clubhouse.

  Luckily, I was able to scale the club’s fence unscathed. Otherwise, I’m not sure I could push myself to go on.

  For the moment, I’m safely alone on the street. Although my pulse has yet to find its natural rhythm. Partly because I’ve attempted to flag down two cars, and neither would stop, and a mere ten seconds ago a motorcycle roared to life. The throaty growl sent my heart galloping again.

  With each second, I grow more desperate. I need to get away from here before Mav or Taz have a chance to hurt me more than they already have.

  So this time when car headlights shine on the blacktop, I move to the left into the car’s lane.

  I can’t afford to let this ride pass me by, which means I can’t afford to take no for an answer.

  Biting my lip against the pain in my side, I wipe my hand on my shirt where it’s not drenched in blood and then stick my thumb out.

  The car slows. Its headlig
hts are a good width apart, which makes me hopeful it’s an older person. When it comes to a complete stop in front of me, I hold my arm over my forehead and ward off the bright lights in my eyes as I strain to see who’s inside the vehicle.

  Not able to, I study the license plate and the model. Regular New Mexico plate. A Chevy. Maybe a couple of years old. I hear the window descending and walk to the side of the car. It’s a light gray, clean, and has four doors. Cautiously I bend to inspect the driver.

  “You want to tell me why you’re barefoot and walking the streets?”

  The flat voice and arrogant face worm their way through my blood like a shot of acid. Turning away, I stare down the street that leads to the clubhouse, my fingers curling into to fists. For a split second, I consider taking off toward the roar of the motorcycle I hear growing closer. But I wouldn’t get far with my side as it is, even if I could somehow able to ignore the cut in my foot.

  Davis exits his car and circles around the front. He leans back against the front panel above the wheel and crosses his arms and legs. He must be off duty because he’s sporting dark jeans and a maroon NM State University T-shirt. “It’s been two weeks. So what do you have for me?”

  “Nothing. They don’t talk about club business when I’m around.”

  “I see.” He studies me and his eyes harden. His jaw muscle pops. “You know, hitchhiking and prostitution are illegal in this state, Ms. Pierce.” He pauses. “Unless you have something for me, I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to put your hands on the hood.”

  Giving him what I know about the club would only make Mav’s accusations about me true. And I may be angry and heartbroken, but I don’t want to see him arrested or any of the other HOCs for that matter. Well, except maybe Taz.

  I put both hands on the hood.

  “You’d rather do time than give them up?”

  “If those are my only choices, then yes.”

  He pushes me further over the side of the front of the car. Then aggressively searches me. I close my eyes and breathe through the pain cascading through my right side. His hand travels up my leg, his fingers sliding higher than necessary up my thigh. Grinding my teeth, I move away from his touch.