Burning Ember (27 page)

I don’t regret killing the dealer. What I regret from that night is not taking the life of the woman who took the life of my child from me.

She was always weak. I knew it from the day we met. But I still gave her something precious to carry. To protect. I gave her my trust too. I believed her when she promised to stay clean and that she’d do the right thing.

But just like Doll, she lied to my fucking face.

I kick once, and Dozer’s door flies back and hits the wall. I don’t have my gun, but I have my knife. I pull it from its sheath as I bear down on her. She’s in the middle of the bed, her red hair fanned out behind her. Her eyes are wide. She’s propped up on her elbows and when her eyes lock with mine, her hand comes up to ward me off as she scrambles backward.

I pin her to the bed. Straddle her legs, hold down her arms with one hand above her head, and I press my blade into her neck.

“Mav, stop!” she screams. Her clear blue-green eyes flood with fear.

I snarl, “You fuckin’ swore you weren’t a junkie.” I punctuate each word by inching the blade deeper into her skin. “Said you were clean. But you were takin’ a hit when you went to the bathroom, not cleanin’ shit up. You lied to us. Lied to me.”

“No! I didn’t.”

“I can’t fuckin’ believe it. You’re just like her.”

“I’m not,” she whispers. Then again louder. “I’m not like Dana. You’ve been drinkin’ and you’re not—”

“She saw you!”

“Who?”

“Lita saw you snortin’ coke in the bathroom!”

She struggles under my grip and she snaps, “Look at me!” A desperate demand. “Do I look like I’m high? I mean it. Really look at me and this time see me and not her.”

“I’m looking at you!” I growl.

“Are you? Really? Because I didn’t lie to you. And I’m sick of you looking at me and seeing me for something I’m not. I’m not a junkie or a liar or your ex.” She raises her head up and gets closer to my face. By doing so, she digs the knife deeper into her neck and something inside me snaps as I watch blood droplets slide down her skin.

The light from the doorway mixes with the moonlight, both are illuminating her face and reflecting off her clear, and undilated eyes.

As it all starts to sink it, I grate out, “Lita said you were the only one she saw exit the bathroom after that.”

“Well, then she didn’t see the girl come out as I went in, did she? The one who was wiping her goddamn nose!” More blood leaks down her neck and onto the white sheet below her. “Get off me!”

I study her. She was asleep before I came in. Something she wouldn’t be if she was high on coke. “Why were you nervous then? Why throw the game and leave? Why were you in the bathroom so long?”

“Because I was cleaning! And I thought you’d kick me out for hustling and stealing their money!”

My shoulders sag. Slowly I pull the knife away from her throat.

“You aren’t high?”

“No,” she whispers.

I drop the knife to the bed. Let go of her wrists. Using both hands, I grip the sides of her face as I stare at her. My thumbs rub up across her cheekbones. I didn’t want to believe it. And I can see the truth in her eyes. Then she pinches her eyes closed and her pain tears me in fucking two. The ache in my chest burns white hot.

I’ve fucked up. I’m fucked up. In all the ways that matter.

“Doll?”

Her eyes slowly open. She’s so beautiful lying there. A beautiful mess. Her eyes, her lips, her freckles. Her blood and her hair such a contrast to the white sheet behind her.

“Seein’ you and rememberin’ her . . . it’s poisoning me.”

“I know. But I didn’t hurt you, so stop taking the pain she caused you out on me.” She looks away. Won’t meet my eyes. Tears build and fall down the sides of her face. I can’t describe the pain I feel inside. All I know is it fucking burns me to my core. “I wanted to help you . . . at first,” she says solemnly. “But now, I don’t know if I’ll survive it.”

Her words hit me like a sledgehammer.

I hear the thunder of large boots coming door the hall, more than one set. A shadow falls over us.

“The fuck! Get him off her.” Hands grip me and yank me away from her. I don’t fight them this time. Because this isn’t Dana. And I don’t want to hurt the woman lying in that bed more than I already have.

I’m dragged out of the room and thrown against the wall. I hear Griz say, “You okay? Here, hold this to your neck. Stop the bleedin’ and I’ll go get the first aid kit.”

More brothers flood into the hall.

“What the fuck have you done?” Dozer growls when he sees me. Then he’s in front of me and landing a solid punch to my stomach that bends me in fucking half. He doesn’t stop there. A half dozen hits rain down on me, and I take every single one without fighting back. The pain ricochets through me, but it’s nothing compared to the white bomb exploding inside my chest. I welcome it with open arms. The physical and the mental pain blend together to create a symphony of agony inside me. He gets a few more hits in, before my brothers grab him and haul him back.

“What the fuck is wrong with you, huh? You lost your fuckin’ mind? What’d I say? I said stay the fuck away from her!” he hollers at me.

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.”