Burning Ember (28 page)

“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 you’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’.”

“Thank you.”

Leaning away from me, he plants his hands on my shoulders and his steely, gray eyes narrow on my neck. “You okay?”

“I’m fine.”

His brows pinch together. “You sure, babe? I could kick his ass a second time for you?”

“Yeah . . .” Whoa . . . wait . . .
a second time?

Griz points his donut at Dozer. “Mav’s the one who sent you to get the donuts. Don’t be takin’ all the credit.”

While D’s distracted, I shift out of his arms and circle around the bar. I reach for the box of donuts. I need both the pick me up and the sugar.

“Didn’t know if he’d pitch a fit s’all.”

Taz smirks at me from his where he’s sitting at the bar. “Sorry you had a rough night, little stray. You good?” My mouth falters on its way to my donut. Not only is Taz eating his donut awkwardly, but also did he just ask me if I’m okay? I eye him questioningly.

He just grins wider and keeps eating. Finally, I ask, “What are you doin’ to that poor donut?”

He chuckles at my response, and rips off another piece of the inside of the donut, then shoves it inside his mouth. While he chews, he says, “Just eatin’ ‘er from the inside out. I always eat the best part of my meals first.”

I scrunch up my nose and mouth, which has one corner of his mouth curling to reveal a hint of a dimple.

Griz comes up next to me, and speaks low. “Doc will be here ‘round three to stitch you up. Long as he doesn’t get called in.”

“Okay,” I whisper.

He studies my face. “You havin’ a change of heart?”

“I haven’t decided . . . yet.”