Burning Ember

by Darby Briar

  He laughs. “What? You can let dirty bikers pound you all day long, but I touch you and you’re offended?”

  When he finds my wound and his hand comes away wet and bloody, he shakes his head and smiles. “Guess they got sick of you already, huh? Or did they catch you trying to steal from them?”

  “Go to hell.”

  He leans forward to look at my face. “Which one of them shot you?”

  “Why, so you can arrest them?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Then, no. No one shot me. I did it to myself.”

  “Jesus,” he spits out. “What the fuck do they shove into you sluts? Golden-dipped cocks? Why the fuck do you care if I arrest them if they tried to kill you?”

  At my silence, he wrenches my arms back. I gasp and battle the tears burning behind my eyes, as this position sends sharp pains zipping up my torso and down my back.

  Then I hear the unmistakable sound of metal clinking a second before cuffs are slapped onto my wrists.

  An overwhelming sense of helpless and vulnerability nearly has those tears spilling from my eyes.

  “You know, I knew you were going to fight me on this. That’s why I figured I’d need a plan B.” He presses me down, turns my head, and holds it forcefully against the warm metal hood. Then he combs my hair away from my neck.

  I try to twist to see what he’s doing, but I can’t move. In my peripheral, I catch sight of a needle inches from my neck.

  “What are you doing?” I cry out and kick my legs at his, the only part of my body I can really move.

  “Hold the fuck still.” I feel a pinch of pain, and I scream as every muscle in my body strains to break free. But his grip on me is unforgiving.

  When he withdraws the needle, I lay there shocked as a million questions flood into my mind. What did he put into my body? Drugs? Or was it some kind of virus? My stomach rolls when I remember a show I once watched where a guy gave a woman a shot. It paralyzed her body so he could rape her, but she was wide-awake and lived through the horror of the entire thing.

  Terror has me kicking and struggling again. “Don’t you dare touch me!”

  The rumble of the motorcycle draws closer, and now I hope it’s Mav. I close my eyes and pray it’s him and that he’ll find me in time.

  Davis yanks me back and I stumble. “You hear that. Your boyfriend’s coming to finish you off.” The street I looked at a moment ago is hazy. The streetlights and the one light coming toward me is fuzzy.

  Dread circles the deepest part of my belly. If it’s Mav, he won’t make it to me in time.

  My eyelids begin to feel weird, almost heavy. I blink a couple of times.

  “I’m not going to let him kill you. Not when you’re worth more alive.”

  He shoves me sideways and I nearly fall to my knees. Tripping, I’m forced to the backdoor of the car, the muscles in my legs suddenly not under my control.

  Davis shoves me into the backseat of his car. As my vision fades in and out, he pushes me to lay down on the leather upholstery.

  “You know there’s something I never get about you biker chicks. Those assholes treat you like garbage, and you’re still loyal as fuck to them.” Davis’ palm slides up my leg. He squeezes the back of my thigh. “Maybe you don’t realize that a good man like me knows how to fuck you dirty too.” Then his fingers skate over my panties. He mutters, “If I had more time right now, I’d show you.”

  “If . . . if you rape me . . . he’ll kill you,” I mumble and speak past my numb lips.

  “Who Maverick?” he snarls the name. “Because that biker-trash father of yours doesn’t care if he gets you back dead or alive. He could give two shits if I had my fill of you before I handed you over to him.”

  Try as I might, I lose the battle to keep my eyes open.

  “You should consider yourself lucky I don’t do business with men like him.” With that his hand vanishes from my between my thighs. My feet are pushed closer to my body. Then the door slams and a few seconds later, the seat under me begins to vibrate.

  MAVERICK

  I’m kicked awake. A knot on my shin is inevitable. Jerking up and sitting, I glare at Dozer standing over me. “Jesus Christ! What the fuck’s wrong with you?” Then I see how much sun fills the room. My voice thick with sleep, I ask, “What time is it?”

  “Ten-thirty. And you deserved that and more so stop bitchin’. What time did you call it quits this morning?”

  Shit. I’ve slept longer than I wanted to. Also, not long enough. Maybe an hour and a half. I pause rubbing my hands over my face and look up. “Nine. Looked everywhere. Couldn’t find her. Did she show up at Beth’s after we spoke?”

  He shakes his head. “No. I woulda called.”

  Getting to my feet, I grab my cut from the arm of the couch and pull it on. Snatch my keys from the table.

  “But I called Whiz this mornin’ because Bethany thought it would be a good idea if we called all the bus stations, maybe have them talk to the drivers, see if anyone’s seen her.” His frown has my blood turning cold.

  “What?”

  “Couple things . . . Taz had Whiz put a tracker on that phone you gave her.” At my optimistic expression, he holds up his hand. “Don’t get too excited, the signal says the phone’s here.”

  “Then she didn’t take it with her. I figured. She ran out fast and wasn’t even wearing shoes. But why mention it?”

  “Just thought you ought to know.” He shrugs.

  “Whiz also did some diggin’ on that Warner McTearney guy you had him lookin’ into. Guess who’s been tryin’ to find him?”

  “Who?”

  “The Greenbacks. At least Bones has been hacking into everything—the guy’s employment records, phone records, credit cards, bank accounts, and his father’s information too. Whiz worked his magic through some back channels and found the GBs actually have a price tag of thirty large on Warner’s head. Fifty on Ember’s. Dead or alive. Any idea on why they’d want her dead?”

  “She’s Pappy’s daughter.”

  At Dozer’s shocked expression, I explain everything. The meeting we had where Whiz and Taz told me about Ember’s parentage and what happened last night in my room. Afterward, I say, “I know how it looks. But it is what it is. Smoke didn’t know who she was until last night.”

  “You believe him?”

  “Yeah, but I believe her more. It just took me a minute to wrap my head around how it was possible. I mean, what the fuck are the odds? By the time I understood that it was all one big fucked up twist of fate, it was too late. Taz had fuckin’ lost it. Aimed a gun at her, and when the shot went off, she took off.”

  “She was hit. I saw the blood.”

  “Yeah.” I rub my hand over my head. “I don’t know how bad either. It’s been drivin’ me crazy all night. What if she’s out there in some alley bleedin’ out? I checked at all the hospitals, but it wouldn’t hurt to go check them again.”

  My phone begins to vibrate and ring. Holding my breath, I pull it from my pocket. When I see Whiz’s number, I sigh and answer, “Yeah.”

  “You talk to Dozer?”

  “Just now.”

  “Good. So this Warner guy received two calls from a 505 number two weeks ago and I thought that maybe it would be worth looking into. The number’s a disposable. So nothin’ useful there. But it got me thinkin’. If someone here knows about the cash bein’ offered for your girl, they’d be lookin’ to get a hold of her. I tracked every IP address that emailed Bones inquiring about collectin’ on the reward money. Guess who one of the IP address belongs to?”

  Hope stirs in my veins. My pulse picks up. Before I can guess, he says, “Deputy Dipshit.”

  “Davis?”

  “Yep, Officer Davis.”

  “That motherfucker is dead.” If he’s laid a hand on her . . .”Find him, wherever he is right now, and get me that info,” I bark out.

  “Already got it. Check your phone, I sent you the location while we were talkin’.

&nb
sp; “Track his cell too.”

  “It’s in the same location.”

  “Fuck, Whiz. You’re a genius.”

  “Yeah, you’re welcome,” he says before he hangs up.

  The location is in the middle of nowhere, past Belen. A great place to meet if you don’t want anyone to see you doin’ somethin’ illegal.

  “Got an idea of who might have her,” I tell Dozer. “Davis. He knows about the price on her head.”

  “And he’d do anything to hurt us. Let me wake everyone up. Go chug the hell out of some coffee. You look shit tired. Like if you mount your bike, it’s gonna end up tastin’ gravel.”

  “No, I’m goin’ now.”

  He slaps his hand on top of my shoulder, squeezes it. “Brother, if he’s meetin’ with Pappy and his boys, you’re gonna need us at your back. United—”

  “We live, ride, fall.” I clamp my hand on top of his forearm. “But I’m pretty damn sure I’m in love with her so you’ve got five minutes. Then I’m ridin’ out, with or without you.”

  Never turn your back on a man that doesn’t recognize his own demons.

  EMBER

  A door slamming jolts me awake. Blinking away the heavy sleep from my eyes, I take in my surroundings. I’m in the backseat of a car, and the only sound I hear is the constant hiss of the air conditioner. There’s no running motor, music, or proof that anyone else is in here with me.

  The last thing I remember is the sedan stopping in front of me, and then Davis. I also recall him shoving a needle into my neck, but not much else.

  Judging by how much sunlight is filtering in through the windows, I’d say it’s been hours since then, if not longer.

  My entire body is a mass of pain, the side of my abdomen throbbing and mimicking my pulse. The only part of my body that doesn’t hurt is my left shoulder. However, that’s simply because it’s dead from lack of circulation.

  I try to sit up a little to check if Davis is in the front seat. It’s nearly impossible with my hands bound behind me, and I regret the undertaking immediately. A sharp bolt of fiery pain shoots up my side, through my shoulder, and down my back. My muscles string tight, and breathing heavily through my nose, I grind my teeth and suck in air.

  The door near my head creaks opens and Davis leans in. “Time to wake up. Your new ride’s arrived.” Grabbing me under my arms, he hauls me unceremoniously out of the backseat, not paying a lick of attention to my suffering while he does so.

  As soon as I get to my feet, he’s behind me, forcing me forward. Each step takes herculean effort. My wound screams as if someone is pressing a lit torch to my skin and burning me from the outside in. The lava-like heat radiates outward from my side and flows up my torso. It literally feels like I’m dying. And with the amount of blood covering my clothes and skin, I think maybe I am.

  I sway, stumble, hiss, and curl inward when it becomes too much to bear. I can’t breathe. I can’t move another step. I just want to lie down and let the ground swallow me up.

  But Davis grants me no mercy and shoves me forward.

  Instead of focusing on the excruciating agony flowing through me, I center myself around the only thing that feels remotely good and that’s the warmth of the dirt cushioning my feet. The wound still smarts when I put pressure on it, but the heat also somehow soothes it.

  Lifting my head to see where he’s forcing me to go, I stop walking abruptly.

  Queasiness rolls around in my stomach. Sweat breaks out on my palms and forehead.

  Yes, I’m standing in the middle of the desert during a heat wave, but my reaction has nothing to do with the high temperature, and everything to do with the pristine and shiny new Escalade parked twenty feet in front of me. Its windows so darkly tinted I can’t see inside.

  I don’t need to see him to know who it is though. The lavishness and the color of the vehicle give him away.

  So when the driver’s door opens and Warner steps out, I’m on the verge of throwing up, but not surprised in the least. He’s everything I remember—tall, handsome, physically perfect in every way, and just as intimidating as the day I left him.

  He’s wearing a beige suit, no tie, and a stark white shirt. The sun glints off his designer glasses before he removes them, and hangs them at the opening in his collar. With no barrier between his face and mine, I’m hit with what spun my head the first day we met, ice blue eyes, a flawless complexion, and sculpted features.

  More beauty than any one person should possess.

  And as simple as that, I relive in flashes how his actions changed our story from budding romance to a cautionary tale. One I didn’t know if I’d survive.

  I try to twist away, but Davis won’t let me. So I appeal to the cop in him, “Please, don’t do this. You don’t understand what kind of man he is. The minute you leave, he’ll hurt me.”

  As Warner gets closer, the side of his mouth lifts and his dimple pops. “There she is,” he coos. “My little phoenix, risen from the ashes.” Then his eyes roam over me, my hair first, then my face, my clothes, and my legs. His smile dims and I can’t help but find pleasure in that.

  “Is that her blood?” Warner glares at Davis. “I told you that I didn’t want her harmed.”

  “She was already shot when I found her. She won’t say who did it, but I expect it was one of the HOCs.”

  “Why didn’t you say anything when we spoke?” Warner inspects me, lifts my shirt, grimaces. His face twists with disgust as he eyes first the nasty bullet wound and then the dirt on my feet.

  “Don’t touch me,” I gasp out and tug away from him. Every second I fight not to pass out, because I know I can’t afford to lose consciousness right now.

  “There wasn’t anything I could do about it. As it is, I’ll have to spend all day cleaning the evidence from the car or burn the thing.” Davis jerks on my cuffed wrists. “Now, do we still have a deal or not?”

  Warner pulls an envelope from the inside of his suit coat. “It’s all there. Uncuff her.”

  Davis takes hold of the cuffs on my wrists, and I feel them fall away a second later. As a parting gift, after he takes the envelope from Warner, Davis pushes me forward. Suddenly I know what it feels like to be stabbed with a red-hot poker. Pain like I’ve never felt washes over me. I scream and my body bows. A veil of white clouds my vision for a moment before color and then the desert returns.

  When I come to, I’m nearly on my knees except Warner’s holding me. He helps me stand. Then picks up some of my bangs using two fingers and moves them from my eyes. I feel a pang in my heart when he does it, because it’s all wrong, and it makes me ache for Mav with every bone in my body.

  If only it were Mav holding me right now. Mav’s murmuring in my ear. Mav telling me he’s going to take me away from here for a long while.

  But no, those are Warner’s words and his breath making the sour feeling in my stomach build.

  Oh, God, what have I done?

  I promised Mav I wouldn’t disappear on him like Dana did. But that’s exactly what I’ve done. I have no doubt that he’ll search for me, and try to fix his mistake. But by the time he does me, it’ll probably be too late.

  I hear a car door open and slam. Then Davis’ vehicle starts and he drives off, leaving me alone to face Warner’s demons on my own.

  “Jesus, look at you. What did they do to you, Em?” His nose scrunches up as he examines me. He always did have a thing against blood and dirt. I can’t say I’m not pleased that he doesn’t find me desirable right now. That may just be my saving grace.

  “Come on. Let me get you cleaned up.” Half-limping and half-hopping, he walks me over to the front of the SUV.

  I know what this is. This is the calm before the turbulent storm. Right now there’s not a speck of darkness visible on the surface, but it’s there buzzing under his skin, waiting to make an appearance.

  I think about Mav’s darkness and how it was always right there for me to see. Not hidden. And how he’d been fighting it, where Warner had al
ways wanted to explore it further.

  Mav didn’t want me afraid of him, and he hated hurting me.

  Warner thrives on my fear. Craves seeing my pain.

  He’s the real devil in my life.

  After opening the passenger door, he pulls a bag from the floor up to the seat. Again, I think about running. I quickly scan the area while his back is turned. And find there’s nothing but sagebrush, treeless mountains, and desert.

  He searches through the bag and pulls out a towel. Then a bottle of water and gets it wet. After shutting the door, he moves me to rest my back against the side of the SUV, and gently starts to clean the dirt and blood off me. First my face, then my arms and hands. When he lifts my shirt, he dabs the towel against my skin and works his way from left to right. From the uninjured side toward the finger size whole that’s surrounded by bruised flesh. I wince and flinch away from his touch. But he keeps going and begins to apply more pressure. I’m gasp, whimper, and begin to cry, even go as far as to push his hands away.

  “Goddamn it, Em, hold still.” Warner’s nostrils flare, and he closes his eyes. When he blinks them open, the hairs on my neck rise. He swipes the towel closer to the entry wound.

  Silent tears cascade down my face, and I dig my nails into the skin of my palms, bite my lip until I taste blood. My throat clogs with tears when I whisper, “Please stop, Warner. It hurts.”

  “Why were you hiding from me?”

  Any answer I give is only going to fuel the fire so I don’t reply.

  His ministrations get rougher. “You’re not going to answer me? Six weeks, Ember. That’s how long I had to go without you. Do you know what that was like for me? How worried I was?” His blue eyes spark with malice. “And then I find out you have some scary ass biker for a father. How come you never told me you were some biker whore’s daughter?”

  When I’m silent, he grips my chin and shakes it. “Do you realize because of you, I can’t go home? Go to work. Live a normal life. The Greenbacks are fucking psychos, Em. They’re not going to give up until they find the two of us.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “You’re sorry? Not good enough, baby. Not even my father has been able to get us out of this. So like I said, we’re going away for a while. And I don’t want any shit from you, okay? We’ll come back when we’ve been able to work out some kind of deal with them.”